The basic thesis of Peter Weibel’s essay is that the old equation of
security, whereby we in America considered ourselves more secure the more
visible we could make ourselves, our neighbors, and the world in general (and
thus our potential enemies) has been supplanted by a new equation which turns
the previous one on its head. Weibel cites Foucault’s idea of the panopticon
as emblematic of the old order of security: if one is (or thinks he is) being
watched at all times, one will obey and through obedience eventually
internalize the law. The first Gulf War, he says, was waged and won through
total surveillance, surveillance which not only comforted but also excited the
general viewing public. The voyeuristic behavior of the American TV audience,
Weibel maintains, had and has a distinctly sexual side to it, exemplified in
our continued enjoyment of reality TV shows and afternoon psychiatry hours
which turn our previously illegitimate voyeuristic activity directly into
pleasure. “Reality TV,” however, is not reality. Weibel points out that
while we think we are seeing/experiencing reality in these shows/war images,
what we are really seeing are only images of the real, inherently limited,
filtered, and distanced by satellite and radar. Without reality, or perhaps
in spite of it, these images become more real to us than “reality,” and we
interact more with the images than we do with concrete beings (for instance
when we watch debates instead of meeting presidential candidates, or buy a
product because of a commercial instead of direct experience).

Weibel marks September 11th as the end of the plausibility of this
first equation. Terrorists, he says, realize the privileged place of seeing
in today’s society, and turn surveillance mechanisms which should give
security into the agents of insecurity. Their goals are only achieved because
their actions are televised and repeated universally and thus universally
feared. Terrorists turn against us the very things which gave us comfort, he
says, and it does not surprise us. Weibel cites Hitchcock’s horror and
suspense movies as evidence that the American public likes to be scared. Fear
has ruled Hollywood for some time, he says, giving disaster movies which leave
New York in ruins as evidence that the kind of violence that happened on
September 11th was “long awaited.” The insecurity that was lurking there all
along, engendered by racial, class, and sex conflicts, thrust itself into view.

What Weibel implies but never explicitly states in his essay is that
America not only lives in fear, but that it, in a masochistic/scophophilic
manner, enjoys this fear, perhaps even enjoys the punishment it receives from
outside. The watcher has become the watched, and he doesn’t mind. Weibel
touches briefly on Mulvey’s concept of the male gaze of cinema, noting the
ability of the viewer to narcissistically identify with the hero and
participate in his viewing of women in a sort of double voyeurism. It would
seem, then, that he would identify pre-9/11 America as primarily masculine,
and current America as primarily feminine/victimized. Does this shift
inherently imply a shift in what gives us pleasure? Perhaps his implicit
suggestion of American masochism/exhibitionism is colored by his view of the
feminine. The shift in perspective which occurred after 9/11, moreover, may
be more complex than Weibel suggests, for not only did American citizens and
officials become the watched instead of the watchers, they became at the same
time a different kind of watcher: externally focused, where they had
previously looked mainly internally. Surveillance mechanisms in the pre-9/11
world were mainly by a government upon its citizens; September 11th not only
greatly increased these internal operations (through the Patriot Act,
increased restrictions on resident aliens, etc.) but also made America more
aware of threats from outside than it had previously been, never having been
attacked on its own soil before. We now not only watch ourselves , we watch
others and are at the same time watched by them. The possibility of watching
oneself, moreover, is not addressed in Weibel’s essay--the separation between
government and citizen is generally maintained--but if America can be
considered as a whole to be watched by terrorists, can it also be considered
so when it employs traditional surveillance techniques? Were these
traditional techniques also already masochistic? Is there any place for
the “male gaze” in this situation? If so, who possesses it? Is
Weibel’s/Foucault’s connection of mechanisms of power and libidinal urges
always accurate? If so, what does this mean concretely in a world obsessed
with looking--with images instead of reality?