The Semiotics of Osama bin Laden’s Death and The Internet Age

It was incredible, and slightly surreal, to see not only just how fast news spread that Osama bin Laden had been killed in an attack by U.S forces, but also how fast people began analyzing what his death meant for the country as a whole, for the President’s term in office, and for the people who had lost family members during September 11th. The president’s address on the subject was streaming over the internet just minutes after the formal announcement; people had gathered not only in front of the White House, but also in communities elsewhere in the country to celebrate before the President had even delivered his speech; others had begun criticizing the revelers’ actions as uncouth, no matter how bad the man who had been killed, as soon as the news and response had popped up. By the time most people woke up the next day, they had heard what happened, either through their own investigations or because someone had called or texted them.

As fast as news was traveling to them, people were analyzing it for meaning, and in doing so, putting theories out on the internet about every conceivable topic related to Osama bin Laden’s death. His death came to stand for so many different things in so many different topics, and the technology that produced that also produced a very specific response, one that could only be imagined in the age of the internet.

One of the first things that people began discussing was the impact this would have on the 2012 Presidential election. At the time of this writing, there are almost 57,000 articles devoted to commenting, predicting, or satirizing the effect that Osama’s death might have on Obama’s chances in the next election, as reported on Google, all within the last 36 hours. Things like this are already old news on the internet:

In the wake of the never-ending financial crisis and the wars inherited from President Bush that had, for the previous part of Obama’s presidency, hung like an albatross around his neck, it was immediately recognized just what an accomplishment this was, finding Bin Laden. The task was pretty much a punchline to most of us. So, when the news came in, a wave of praise rose up for Obama, cartoons like that one, and the one here: http://www.collegehumor.com/picture/6498012/csi-obama The humor—and for those of us who have sided with Obama despite falling poll numbers, a slight sense of unflatteringly smug satisfaction (although that might just be me)—comes from the fact that this momentous thing happened during a time where birthers and now people who doubt Obama’s academic credentials are trying to discredit him left and right, all the while doing one of the things that people doubted would ever happen, under him or anyone else.

However, some people who may or may not have had a problem with Obama before criticized the ecstatic attribution of Osama’s discovery and death to Obama.
I’d say the real people to thank are the guys at the CIA who managed to figure out where Bin Laden was hiding. If all that was needed was some tough Navy Seals to jump in and kill him, he’d have been dead before September of 2001 was over. Finding him is the important part, and the CIA managed to pull that off. And really, organizing such a major investigation as that requires some careful management, so as the chief executive Obama did have a fairly important role to play besides “hey yeah you guys should go find him’. (AV Club, “Weekend Box Office: Osama is Dead! (And Some People Bought Tickets to See Furious Five)”)
Already reactions and counter-reactions have sprung up, and not just the pundits or the news anchors was weighing in to disseminate and comment upon the information, but everyone with an internet connection. Facebook newsfeeds were filled with status updates and notes about Osama’s death. The sentiments may not be all that different than what has been expressed about presidents in the past, but the method of expression is unique to the internet age.

To bring this back to a point of the reading we’ve done in the past semester, Tim Wu discusses in Chapter 21 just how the internet, being a fractured and democratic form of information technology, allows everyone not only to have an equal say, but to have a pretty equal chance of getting it out so that anyone else with an internet connection can hear them. “It cannot be denied that the Internet has ushered in a time of unprecedented diversity an ease of communication and commerce, a broadly available way of reaching millions of people. And each of those millions of networked parties can in turn claim the role of what was once called, with appropriate distinction, a ‘broadcaster’” (317). The internet provides whole new realms for discussion, where the inappropriate is de rigueur, and where someone’s immediate reaction can become a sensation that lives on, for future readers to discover and comment upon, in ways that cannot be achieved in a television, or book, or speech-dominated society. Everyone’s internet presence is available for everyone to see almost immediately, and things of note from people who were otherwise unnoticeable happen every minute. At the same time, reactions, reactions to reactions, and numerous different analyses crop up and take off for a myriad of different discussions and interpretations of what something means that also disseminate into the common knowledge. Events mean more things to more people, sometimes many things to the same people, as they do here, rather than the monolithic interpretation that would have come along with a single outlet.

Moreover, as I alluded to before, the myriad of outlets and “broadcasters” means that there are a myriad of interpretations of the situations at hand, all of which—if not quite considered equal in validity—are at least considered and discussed. Shortly before the broadcast of President Obama’s speech, Brian Williams was interviewing a member of President Bush’s cabinet, and for his opening question, he asked one of the questions that I had seen many other people, ordinary citizens, pose on the internet: what do you think this means for President Bush (and, in an underlying statement, the people who sided with him both during his presidency when their judgment was criticized and afterwards as a criticism of Obama)? On this train of thought, people began predicting the Democrats’ chances for a victory over the Republicans in the 2012 Presidential Election, talking about what Donald Trump’s direct criticism of Obama now meant in terms of his public image, and reviving attacks against the Birthers, each of which had a bunch of different counter-responses. At the same time, people were discussing what the revelers in front of the White House (and elsewhere) meant about the American lust for revenge, and still others were discussing what this meant for our relations with Pakistan, or the sense of closure this actually did or didn’t bring to the families of victims claimed by 9/11.

The Piercian model that Chandler discusses seems to fit so seamlessly here: the influx of opinions and the multifaceted nature of the interpretation to which they give rise fits the tripartite model which opens up the interpretation of any symbol to diachrony. Osama bin Laden’s death is a symbol, not yet an icon and probably never an index, where it stands for any and all of these things and more simultaneously, and with the expectation that those associations will change as sentiments do, or as new details come to light over time. Pierce’s commitment to diachrony allows us to think about bin Laden’s death in all of the multifaceted aspects that it represents for us as broadcasters in the internet age. As I said before: in a place where anybody has as much say and as much ability to be heard as the next person, any symbol is pretty much guaranteed to have a huge number of “official” interpretations, and the diachronic model allows us to think most accurately about the semiotics of bin Laden’s death in the internet age and beyond.

Performances and Utterances: Humor in Music Videos

by Sarah Evans (saevans@vassar.edu)

I know that the relationship between music and semiotics has come up before in this course, but since we’re moving into studying performativity and speech acts in class, and I love taking things just a little bit too literally, I really wanted to talk about musical performances, especially with regards to music videos.  Music videos are a strange type of performance. especially since they aren’t always clearly a performance: a general template for the band-made video is that it’s a short film built around a band’s performance, but the band isn’t really performing, it’s lip-syncing to the perfectly mixed and mastered version of the song that’s on their record.  Fan made videos, usually hobbled by a lack of funds, tend to be either flash-made, or, most commonly, a series of photos of a band or the lyrics of a single with a single playing in the background.  However, some videos make it obvious (sometimes ludicrously so) that not only are they performances, but they also change the meaning of the songs by placing them in contexts that are contraindicated by the music, in effect creating completely new meanings and utterances based upon the interplay between the infelicitous statement and a counter-intuitive context, capitalizing on what Grice dubs the conversational implicative.

Although Grice calls his idea “conversational implicature”, I’m going to stretch the idea past language and into music.  I’m talking a very specific type of music video, one which takes the stance that what you’re watching is not only not real, but not even a staged performance, and it tends to do so by subverting the felicity of their actual statements within the song.  Perhaps the best way to phrase it is thus: musical performances tend to occupy a nebulous space–there is generally no assurance that the singer is voicing his own thoughts or not unless the song directly indicates that that is so–but it can generally be assumed that a performance, especially within the context of a music video is just that–a performance, where the words being spoken do not directly perform any work on behalf of the speaker because they are inherently infelicitous, to apply Austin’s definition.  Lyrics sung during a song are generally considered, like poetry and fiction, to be the words of a narrator who is not the singer, so that when the speaker is singing them, he cannot be held to anything that he sings because he is speaking on behalf of something else.  It’s comparable, but by no means identical to Hanks’ example of Jack’s hypothetical infelicitous statement, “I promise that you [Natalia] will be home by 6:00”, which Jack cannot felicitously say unless the onus is on him to furnish Natalia with the means to be home by 6:00.  Any promises, injunctions, requests, or other personal statements within a song’s lyrics are not actually being enacted by the singer; the singer is just singing.

However, this is just an Austinian interpretation, and, moreover, one that only really takes lyrics into account.  In terms of music videos, especially ones that derive humor from the contradiction of the song being used in a specific way in the video, the focus tends to be on factors like the composition of the video, its personnel, its concept, and so on and so forth, as well as the context in which all of this is happening.  The song is taken as a piece of fictitious entertainment, so the singer’s rendition and how it meshes with the rest of the video within the context in which the video exists is what produces humor.  Grice’s theory of conversational implicature, specifically the idea of implicature, is at work here: “Grice’s theory assumes that speakers routinely make utterances that are infelicitous, at the level of what they actually say” (Hanks 101).  In terms of songs, it seems safe to say that, in light of Grice’s theory, it is both assumed and not problematic that a song’s lyrics as they are sung is infelicitous because the content (regardless of its connection to the performance of such) and context are logical.

This is where the blatant ludicrousness of certain performances in videos comes in: the song’s lyrics are logical, the context is logical, and what is being said is ridiculousness.  Just consider the video for the song “Dance Yrself Clean”.

Now, the Muppets are not hipster party animals, or if they are, then that’s clearly an aspect of them that I glossed over during my infatuation with them sometime in elementary school.  On just a basic level, this music video is funny because the Muppets are doing things that would never be associated with them outside the realm of parody; even if all of the parts of the video with all of them performing were excised and there was no music in the background, the images would still be funny (or at least trying to be funny) simply because watching puppets who are ingrained in our cultural consciousness as being family friendly, a little corny, and definitely safe for kids are put in situations that conform to a completely different stereotype, one which was, before it became primarily a source of ridicule for the very people for whom it used to apply, associated with adults and the underground.  Even in the video, the passers-by laugh when the puppets do something that they would consider to be out of character.

In fact, the video would also work if it were just the puppets and the song, or just the song and the concept: the former has the same incongruities, whereas the latter syncs up pretty perfectly with the content of the song.  What’s peculiar about this video is watching the performance–there is no speech or song more infelicitous in its delivery than this one with Kermit the frog sing it.  It’s the exact same version of the song that appears on the album, not a cover, and Kermit is not singing it in his voice, he’s lip-syncing with James Murphy’s voice.  For anyone who has heard Kermit’s voice actor, there is no way that he could be mistaken for singing this song, so it becomes plain that he’s singing for someone else.  Taking a step back: the video is not only funny because it has muppets doing inappropriate things, it’s also funny and strange because one’s first instinct is to associate Kermit with the song and the lyrics because he’s singing it, but he’s no more beholden to them than Murphy would be if he were performing in the video instead.  It’s blatantly artificial.

The logical conclusion of this line of thought, of building a music video that is predicated upon exposing the infelicity of performance that videos are, is the video for “Strictly Game”.

Where “Dance Yrself Clean” was funny because it exploited the incongruity of the performance, “Strictly Game” is funny because it conforms to the tropes of a specific type of fan-made music video.  It has that as the most recognizable part of its context.  At the very beginning, it actually looks completely like one of those videos (the same static images, the same font, even the same wipes from photo to photo), as though that was what the band wanted to do.  However, what appears to be static at the beginning grows gradually and more obviously into a series of videos, almost as though the images are coming to life.  Watching it a second time, I looked for indications that every “photo” was actually a staged video of the band, and it was.  The video was funny and intriguing because it was so perfectly integrated with the concept of it looking like a fan-made product, but the way that it played with the form called attention to the fact that it was made by the band, even if the song and the band-in-the-video were not in any way synced so that there was an obvious disconnect between the band and the performance.

To bring this back to Grice, “Strictly Game” looks like a fan-made video, which connotes that the person who made it has no involvement with the band but enjoys their music.  It also, in that vein, emphasizes that while there is a connection between the people in the video and the people singing, it is not the connection that those people are in the act of singing that song to an audience.  Altogether, it is an example of implicature: the audience (or, in this case, the YouTube commenter population and myself) assumed one relationship, a completely infelicitous relationship as sundered in content and delivery as Kermit singing LCD Soundsystem, but by the end of the video, we understood that the band was actually directly involved in presenting this, and while it is in no way identical in meaning with the song itself, the video presents a performance unique to that video which actually suggests an infelicitous, but still communicative and performative utterance of parodic humor in the same way as “Dance Yrself Clean”–by capitalizing on both the understanding that what’s being presented is a performance, a rendition, and playing with that idea as it applies to music videos.