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I wouldn& #39;t be surprised if you see this video playing in a museum exhibit about "our current cultural moment" 50 years from now.
The discussion so far has been mostly about mental illness and the indignities of service work, but there& #39;s more to it I think.
The discussion so far has been mostly about mental illness and the indignities of service work, but there& #39;s more to it I think.
The video has the same vibes as this iconic photo IMO.
In both works, we get to see what it looks like when one man has another man entirely at his mercy. We get to see what it looks like when mercy is withheld and power is exercised summarily and with cold blood.
In both works, we get to see what it looks like when one man has another man entirely at his mercy. We get to see what it looks like when mercy is withheld and power is exercised summarily and with cold blood.
(I don& #39;t mean that the situations or the stakes are the same. They obviously are not. My intent is to draw your attention to a particular human drama that is rare to see so unfiltered and so without shame, particularly in everyday first world life)
The intensity of the emotional effect relies on a lack of context. As viewers, we get to see the final act of cruelty, we get to see the full horror on the face of the victim, but we don& #39;t get to see the long build up that prompted it.
(It continues to astound me how easy it is for circumstances to attenuate human beings& #39; visceral revulsion to cruelty.)
Both the Holiday Inn Patron and the Vietnamese executioner feel entirely justified in their actions. The man being executed in & #39;Nam had just killed a soldier& #39;s entire family. The executioner is blind to the stark tragedy of his actions because he is bound to do his duty.
The Holiday Inn Patron, well, he received poor customer service. When he pressed the designated corporate face to Do Better, it is implied that the employee could not conceal his frustration and punched his own computer. Out comes the phone...
The video opens with: "You& #39;re going to get mad and hit the computer because you made a mistake?" These words, with phone in hand, are the wage slave equivalent of a loaded pistol to the face. "Fix my shit, OR ELSE."
What happens next is described as a "mental breakdown" but I think Caleb, the employee, is merely showing on the outside what literally anybody in his position would be feeling on the inside.
We all know how these things go. A white customer service representative displays a negative emotional affect to a calm black customer... HR receives a video... Goodbye livelihood! You can see it in his eyes before he breaks: "oh my God, it& #39;s happening to *me*."
"So this is the kind of people they have working here!" There& #39;s the bullet. I watch Caleb and I see Nguyễn Văn Lém& #39;s iconic grimace as it all slips away. Rage, rage against the dying of the light!
Animals in pain normally do their best to act normally to avoid telegraphing their weakness. The irony is that Caleb only engenders sympathy because he "freaked out". He does not allow us to delude ourselves into thinking he does not suffer.
Attributing the outburst to "poor mental health" reveals the extent to which we believe stoically facing the consequences of one& #39;s transgressions is the noble, "mentally healthy" thing to do. To what extent does this norm exist to justify the vengeance of the transgressed upon?
"The Execution of Nguyễn Văn Lém" galvanized the anti-war movement because Americans were forced to ask themselves: "Is what we& #39;re trying to achieve worth *this*?" It is my fervent hope that we start asking ourselves the same about the quest to "hold people accountable."
