CONS live their own lives. Of all the
photographs of American soldiers tormenting Iraqi prisoners in the
Abu Ghraib prison, one alone has become the icon of the abuse.
The image appears in mock advertisements in New York, in
paintings in San Francisco, on murals in Tehran and on mannequins in
Baghdad. It shows no dogs, no dead, no leash, no face, no nakedness,
no pileup, no thumbs-up. It is the picture of a hooded prisoner
standing on a box, electrodes attached to his outstretched arms.
Why this image above all the rest? It is far from the most
violent, but easily the most graphic. You need less than a second's
glance to know exactly what it is. The triangle of the hood
silhouettes sharply against the hot pink or chartreuse background of
a fake iPod ad. Andy Warhol himself could not have done better. It
holds its own on murals meant to be read from far away. It plays
well against the Statue of Liberty. It suggests Christ on the cross.
And, best yet, the hooded figure in the photograph is on a pedestal.
It is already an icon.
As a symbolic shape, the hood is almost as strong as a cross. The
difference is that the hood has generally been the sign of the
persecutor, not of the victim. It is the uniform of the executioner,
the sheet of the Klansman, the mask of Death. Until now. In these
images, you can see the hood's meaning begin to change and take
root.
Maybe it's because the hood resembles a veil. Look at the
photograph of two people in Tehran walking by murals based on the
Abu Ghraib photographs: the hooded figure on the box - echoing the
robed and veiled Muslim woman passing in front of it - becomes every
Muslim. The photo is an ad for martyrdom, made in America.