Shoot an Iraqi - Bilal

 In November, 2010 I read about the artistic exploits of Wafaa Bilal and was intrigued.  So intrigued I blogged about his latest project and posted it in several online forums.  I also ordered his book, “Shoot an Iraqi; Art, Life, and Resistance Under the Gun” co-written with Kari Lydersen.  I read it in one sitting.  Astonishing in content and brilliantly written, Bilal and Lydersen have taken, by my first estimate, an ill-conceived, albeit somewhat artistic, publicity stunt and turned it into a MUST READ commentary on the cost of war…now my second and more accurate estimate.  

In a nutshell Wafaa writes about his confinement to an exhibit room at the Flat File Gallery in Chicago.  He called the exhibit “Domestic Tension” and lived within its confines for one month.  That’s the domestic part.  The tension comes from the added twist.   If you visited him, either on-line or in person, he gave you the option to fire a yellow paint ball at him at 300 feet per second, all day, every day.  Approximately 65,000 balls of yellow paint were fired during his ordeal.  He was forced to live under the fear of being whacked at anytime.  There was a field of fire available to the paint ball gun which he could escape be remaining close to the ground…inducing the stress of literally living “Under the Gun”.  When online visitors stopped in they could chat with him directly, setting up a tension between those who could reach out to the humanity of the situation observing and bearing witness to the ongoing persecution, and those who wanted to have sadistic fun at the expense of another human being. (NOTE: Although sadistic fun unfortunately occurs in warfare it is rarely its primary driver and becomes yet another ugly cost of war).  

As he writes about his ordeal during his month in captivity he wraps in the story of his early life growing up in Iraq under the brutal dictatorship of Saddam Hussein.  He describes what life like for the Iraqi people, their hopes and dreams for education and prosperity, their day to day family life, with both their good humor and sanity evaporating during what has now amounted to almost three decades of constant war.   Wafaa escaped as a refugee to the United States but carries the scars of many haunting years of fear and persecution in its countless forms.  That is what he was trying to recreate in a cathartic response to the guilt he has felt by leaving Iraq and thus surviving to tell his tale.

“Shoot an Iraqi” is not a war protest, though many who read it might consider it so… I might also add that some associated with his project seem to convey a clear anti-war vibe…yet Wafaa resisted the invite to preach rather he simply wants us to think about the cost of war in human terms rather than ethical or moral implications.  This book is also not an indictment on the use of remotely piloted vehicles to execute war, which have gained so much favor and criticism during the wars in the Middle East…yet remain highly misunderstood.  Again, Wafaa resists the temptation to draw too many parallels between what he was doing and this new brand of warfare.  Early on he exhibits a desire to make the parallel, primarily when he attributes a tragic event which cost the life of many innocent civilians to reconnaissance conducted by an unmanned aircraft.  Only in the sense that violence is being executed at a distance can the two be compared.  No other parallels to this brand of warfare exist.   But this is not a debate to have in this book review.  The other parallels to the stress of those caught in the war zone and living minute by minute “Under the Gun” and threat of death are quite real.

Wafaa has a unique vision in his art form that continue to elicit strong criticism, censorship, and even persecution, whether intentionally by his own hand or by the hand the ignorant.  He grows and we grow as a result of what he has experienced and has now shared.  This book goes a long way to reducing the hand of the ignorant.