In times as brutal as ours, we tend to turn to the news to try to confront, and perhaps better understand, the violent reality that surrounds us. To a certain extent, the images of journalism satisfy our desire to get closer to the horror on a daily basis, to face the catastrophe, without getting too damaged or burning our fingers.
However, we know that an image on television or the Internet is not enough to reproduce an authentic experience. The fires in Maui, the corpses in the trenches of Donbass in Ukraine, the children starving in hospitals in Sudan, the damage and victims of the floods in Libya are alleviated by the physical and psychological distance of the viewer or the viewer. drive.
I laugh softly every time the BBC presenters warn me that “some viewers may find the following images disturbing”. If only ! The media announce the presumed danger knowing that the mental distance between a “real” image and the public poses no real threat to consciousness, to that thin red line of emotion which, once crossed, could lead to real shock and to sorrow, or to action. I then think of this reflection by the great filmmaker Sam Fuller, combat veteran, that to “shoot a real war film”, it would be necessary from time to time to “shoot at the audience from behind the screen during a battle scene “.
Darnella Frazier’s 2020 video of the murder of George Floyd may be the exception that proves the rule. Still available on YouTube, still horrifying, this video was shown in bits and pieces — never, as far as I know, in its entirety — on national television networks following the crime. Again, YouTube displays a warning: “This video may not be suitable for some users.” As if the direct, spontaneous and surprising violence – although filtered by the screen – was so traumatic that the human psyche would not be able to sustain it.
However, let’s ask ourselves: Did George Floyd suffering and moaning for 8 minutes and 46 seconds in front of tens of millions of people really change things?
As a journalist who often witnesses violent crimes and fires (during and just after the events) and a specialist in war propaganda, this is a subject that works for me. Of course, I advocate “reality” as much as possible in the hope that exposure to violence, especially the true consequences of war through graphic images that hide neither death nor injury, will make the world wiser.
However, in an era totally saturated with images, I am surprised that fiction, and therefore imagination, has a more powerful impact than non-fiction, including with regard to photography and film. . I put aside the terrors of the unconscious; I am only talking here about the novel and its visceral impact on the ordinary reader.
We all remember a fiction that shocked us, even floored us. But to the point of completely closing the book and stopping out of disgust and anguish? In my opinion, the master of the phrase that is not only bloody, but damning, is Philippe Claudel. His latest novel, Dusk, serves as an excellent example, as the story is set in a small town within an imaginary “empire” in an era more technologically primitive than the 21ste century (we only know that we have passed the year 1909), but no less savage in his cynicism, his cruelty, and his hatred for others, a great theme which runs through all his work.
The story begins with the discovery of the mysterious murder of the town priest. Muslims are few in number and not necessarily hated in the town. That said, suspicion still focuses on the only doctor, a Muslim named Krashmir. Immediately, we are plunged into a world of secret, twisted violence marked by unbridled sexual desire, corrupt politics, and opaque, venomous resentment against minorities, eccentrics, and the mentally ill.
There is, in the wake of the drama, the discovery of ancient buried horrors which reveal human barbarity in all its ugliness. It is clear that the city is in the grip of a contagious cancer that will end badly. I wish you, dear readers, to address Dusk without vapid warnings and you read the entire novel.
On the other hand, I would like to confuse your literary experience by throwing you a very particular challenge. In chapter 23 of Dusk, you are going to encounter a scene of incredible violence – the one that initially made me close the book because it was unbearable to me. It is an intra-Muslim revenge: the victim, nicknamed the Mute, encounters the furious madness of twin brothers, Mahmoud and Brahim Kouechi. “Simple-minded,” the Mute has the misfortune of impulsively committing in public a vulgar act that the city’s police chief ironically allows himself to commit in private.
My challenge: read Claudel’s eight pages and then watch George Floyd die throughout the eight terrible minutes filmed by Darnella Frazier. Think: which scenario seems most “real” to you? Which best describes the state of mind of our civilization? Which would make you act more quickly to thwart the horror? Philippe Claudel, in any case, darts his provocation with a pen that he masterfully dips into human darkness.
John R. MacArthur is publisher of Harper’s Magazine. His column returns at the start of each month.