Posted by Diana Taylor on April 01, 192003 at 09:33:07:
Bush’s Happy Performative
Before the first smart bomb or missile hit Iraq, Bush’s war talk had already caused enormous, some say incalculable, damage. The promise of a preemptive attack undermined the rules governing U. S. foreign policy; the United Nations was sidelined; longstanding allies were bullied and discarded, economic indicators plummeted, anxious U.S. citizens were told to create safe spaces with duct tape and bottled water. In this “war” that is not a war but an invasion, Bush’s main weapon is what J. L. Austin calls “the performative,” language that acts. There are cases—i.e., weddings—in which saying something does something (12). The words “I do” constitute a contract within the framework of the marriage ceremony. Unlike constatives, or declarations of ‘fact,’ the performative masquerades, it’s a “disguised” form that “apes” statements of fact (4). Yet, they work differently, Austin posits: “The constative utterance is true or false and the performative is happy or unhappy” (54). “I do” cannot be thought of as true or false; rather the marriage ceremony can be thought of proceeding successfully and ‘happily’ if all goes well. In the build-up to the invasion, Bush’s performatives proved happy indeed. Claims, boasts, and declarations, masqueraded as truths. All evidence to the contrary was dismissed—the U.N. Security Council had failed—“they did not live up their responsibility.” Inspections didn’t work. Diplomacy had failed-- “we were not dealing with peace loving men.” Saddam had refused to leave Iraq of his own volition.
For a performative to function smoothly, however, a series of conditions needs to be met. For starters, the utterance needs to takes place in the context of an appropriate conventional framework, and the words uttered by the person empowered to do so. So in the Address to the Nation of March 17, 2003, we have the President of the United States, in the White House, surrounded by flags and official seals, reminding us that he is indeed the authorized person to carry out the unauthorized “war” against Iraq: “The tyrant will soon be gone, the day of your liberation is near,” he promises both U.S. citizens and the Iraqi people, “by the oath I have sworn, by the oath I will keep.” Swearing makes it so. His insistence on authority and proper procedure almost make us think he’s read Austin. Having performed the words in the official setting, he reminds us that this action—criticized by many as illegal and immoral—is “not a question of authority” but a question of the “will,” “resolve,” and “fortitude… to enforce the just demands of the world.” “We” have it, “they’ (the United Nations Security Council, France, Russia, Mexico, Canada and countless other critics in and outside the U.S.) don’t.
Convinced by his own show, Bush orders the “liberation of Iraq” to go forward. Operation “shock and awe,” a genre of what the Pentagon calls “effects-based warfare,” is clearly a performative, intended to produce the very intimidation it announced, also promised to be a military campaign “unlike any we have ever seen.” As the body count rises on both sides, the U.S. military begins to experience its own surprise. The enemy is not acting as expected. Instead of proper rules of warfare, the U.S. military encounters “thugs,” “terrorists,” “death squads” “suicide bombers,” combatants dressed as civilians and women. “To me, this is not an act of war,” said a Capitan in the U.S. military of a car bomb that killed four U.S. soldiers: “it is terrorism” (NYT, Steven Lee Myers, “With Bombing, Iraqis Escalate Guerrilla Tactics and Show New Danger on Front Lines” B 4). The title of the lead article in the Week in Review of NYT on March 30, 2003 reads: “The War in Iraq Turns Ugly. That’s What Wars Do.”
Happily or unhappily for us—those of us living in the United States right now—the performative is not simply an act; it is a pact. It requires not only that the appropriate person utter the words under appropriate circumstances, but it also requires that the person uttering them be sincere—i.e., mean what he is saying—and that the ‘audience’ believe them. If this pact of sincerity between speaker and listener is not met, the performative proves “unhappy” or “infelicitous.” In other words, the government needs popular consent in order to get away with this invasion. That’s our role, and our power. Those of us who question Bush’s legitimacy as President—(if we can remember as far back as November of 2000)—or his authority in declaring a unilateral, preemptive “war,” or his sincerity in wishing “to liberate the Iraqi people” have, and should continue, to interrupt the show. The public protests the world-over demonstrate that many have not bought the presidential pronouncements—they see might masquerading as right, and economic self-interest aping justice, gross indifference to human suffering disguised under the banner of humanitarianism. While much has been written about the abuse of power by the U.S. government, we haven’t heard much about the power of the U.S. people. While the protests “at home” have been massive, generally peaceful, funny, irreverent, and creative, the media undercounts, and even discounts, these efforts. City officials complain that protests pose serious security risks and cost us all money that we don’t have. Rather than question where the surplus has gone and who put us at risk, protestors are accused of being unpatriotic. Back to the safe rooms! But the role of protest and live demonstrations cannot be underestimated. Protestors are the unauthorized persons using inappropriate means to disrupt and—hopefully—put an end to power’s self-referencing performative.
Diana Taylor, NYU