The White Couple and the Neoliberal Social Contract in 21st-Century Whistleblower Films

Abstract

Click to increase image sizeClick to decrease image size Notes1 On the way that the personal is linked to the political in the broader category of the conspiracy film, see Mike Wayne, “The Conspiracy Film, Hollywood’s Cultural Paradigms, and Class Consciousness,” 210. On conspiracy as a metaphor for the abuse of power by the corporation and the state, see John S. Nelson, “Conspiracy as a Hollywood Trope for System.”2 Coma (1978) is an interesting exception to the female whistleblower film, in that the female protagonist is a successful professional who has no financial worries, but, like other female whistleblowers, she unequivocally succeeds in exposing the criminal activity of her workplace, her romantic relationship restored in the final scene.3 The interactions between Jeffrey and Lowell often convey an intensity that borders on the sexual and romantic; for example, at their initial clandestine meeting in a hotel room, Lowell asks Jeffrey if there is anything he wants to know about Lowell, and Jeffrey responds with reference to a cliched pickup line, “Like what? Your sign?” Later in the film, after Jeffrey has become estranged from his wife, he calls Lowell and tells him not only that he is now staying at “our favorite hotel,” but also that he requested to stay in the same room where they first met.4 Both the social and sexual contracts are political fictions, to be sure, but ones that continue to underlie dominant assumptions of public discourse in the West about the political obligation of white, male individuals to the state, assumptions that simultaneously legitimate the subordination of women and people of color. See Carole Pateman and Charles W. Mills, Contract and Domination.5 The diminished authority of the husband can in part be explained by the decreasing significance of formal marriage to the state over the course of the 20th century, as the state less and less needed to work through male household heads to locate or govern female family members that it could monitor directly through employment, taxation, social welfare, etc. (Cott Citation2002, 213).6 Wendy Brown writes that consent is mediated by an authority that it both constitutes and legitimates, that it is “a response to power,” but not “a mode of … sharing power” (States of Injury, 163). I would argue that the problem of consent “as a sign of legitimate subordination” (163) is aggravated by the fact that, beginning with Locke, political philosophers have grounded the legitimacy of the political power and authority of the state on a consent that need only be “tacit.”7 While Ham’s name recalls the biblical ancestor of the people of Africa, whose story has been interpreted throughout history as a justification for slavery, he calls attention here to the continued violence of white exploitation and imperialism.8 Both Joe’s critical race consciousness and his sexism are conveyed when he calls an Islamophobic acquaintance “a racist pussy.”9 Joe conveys his feelings of emasculation in his marriage when he complains at a dinner party that Valerie prohibits his Churchill-inspired desire to smoke cigars in the house.10 Although Lindsay and Ed seem to have a symbolic version of a wedding when he asks, “trust me?” and she responds, “I do,” their unmarried status reflects the decreasing significance of formal marriage to the state in the 20th and 21st centuries (Cott Citation2002, 213).11 To the extent that embodiment is linked to femininity throughout the film, Snowden is himself feminized repeatedly. He is forced to quit the male environment of boot camp because of a physical injury, and, later in the film, he has an epileptic seizure that renders him incapable of movement. Interestingly, Ed’s ignorance about one of the National Security Agency’s data collection programs earns him the nickname “Snow White,” even though the fairytale princess is known more for her feminine beauty and physical vulnerability than for her lack of knowledge.Additional informationNotes on contributorsAnna SiomopoulosAnna Siomopoulos is Associate Professor of English and Media Studies at Bentley University and author of Hollywood Melodrama and the New Deal: Public Daydreams (Routledge, 2012). Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cinema Journal, Film History, Arizona Quarterly, The Moving Image, Camera Obscura, and The New Review of Film and Television Studies, as well as several edited collections.