Throwing Shoes at Power

December 15, 2008

This shoe throwing incident in Iraq is loaded with symbolic weight. Anyone can get a shoe thrown at them, but not everyone has been as intent as Bush on getting a "thank you" from the Iraqi people for his efforts on their behalf. Those shoes help to build a counter "un-thankful" narrative. Every political leader has someone in the audience who would love to throw shoes, but mass rallies on the thrower's behalf elevate the incident into a statement of public sentiment: a mass "no thank-you."

The incident offers a great model for the way an individual act becomes a public symbol. It is certainly possible to imagine another leader getting a pair of shoes thrown at them.. and then the incident vanishing from view. But in this case the act found a resonance with the public. Note these scenes from the Middle East:

In the Baghdad neighborhood of Sadr City, people calling for an immediate American withdrawal removed their footwear and placed the shoes and sandals at the end of long poles, waving them high in the air. And in the southern Iraqi city of Najaf, people threw their shoes at a passing American convoy.

A particular act becomes one in which the public actively participates.

It is interesting to note president George W. Bush's response to the shoes: he argued that this was a person trying to draw attention to himself and pointed to the other Iraqi journalists who apologized. Bush instinctively narrows the opposition into an individual who carries no symbolic weight.. and almost chastises reporters for falling into the trap and asking questions about the act. Bush wants to treat the shoe throwing as parallel to a pie-in-the-face joke, and to move on. But of course the shoes were not pie-in-the-face.. they were an insult that millions of people evidently wish they also could give.

This reminded me of a presentation for a class that brought to my attention a little known incident under the presidency of the older Bush. The story is told on the radio program "This American Life." In 1992 Charles Monroe-Kane was in Munich, Germany and finagled his way into possession of a top level press pass. He would be present at a press conference carried live on CNN and decided to take the opportunity to make a public statement about US policies and to rip a flag. (The story, by the way, is hilarious and I recommend that you give it a listen.) After just a minute of the press conference Monroe-Kane stands up on his chair and yells: "The homeless and the trees are mourning your economic decisions. Repent dear king or go to hell." (The transcript of the event can be read here on The American Presidency Project website.)

In the interview on "This American Life" Monroe-Kane does not regret shouting at the president, but he does feel silly about his chosen message. It is a silly message, stilted in its mock religious tone. But looking back on that incident after 14 years or so Monroe-Kane lingers over the idea that he could have said something that would have had an affect on the world. He muses:

I wish I would have said something that hung in the air for a moment and made everybody silent. That would keep him awake for one moment of his life. That just would make him think: wow, I do have some responsibility and I have squandered that responsibility.

But his words did not do that. They were spoken.. and they disappeared from view.

Compare that to the words and actions of this Iraqi journalist. For the first shoe he shouted: "This is a gift from the Iraqis; this is the farewell kiss, you dog!" For the second shoe: "This is from the widows, the orphans and those who were killed in Iraq!" It really is not too far from what Monroe-Kane said and did.. although you have to trade flag-ripping for shoe-throwing. The difference between these two acts, one resonant and the other just humorous, is not to be found in more effective wording or more spectacular action. The difference is in the Iraqi public's broad desire to take part in this symbolic act. The act thus takes its place within a publicly shared narrative.