"Oh, That's Not Good"

That's what I found myself murmuring half a dozen times throughout my screening of Jesus Camp.

The last post mostly concerned how effective the documentary was by its own merits, but that didn't leave much room for this agnostic's take on its sociopolitical implications.

So is it brainwashing? Instructing children as young as six to write off all supporters of evolution as imbeciles? Taking the kids to our nation's capitol to line up in an anti-abortion protest -- their mouths covered in red duct tape marked "LIFE" -- after they'd practiced the demonstration at camp? Of course the film's evangelicals don't think so, and it's entirely because they believe everything they teach the children to be the undeniable truth. The earth and all its inhabitants are no more than 6,000 years old. Harry Potter is a subverting warlock figure who will lead the world's youth to embrace the Satanic arts. These views, to this brand of Christians, are inarguable, so they wouldn't consider the imposition of these views on impressionable children in any extreme to be brainwashing, any more than if I were to do the same, only teaching my kids that racism is ignorant and indecent (I want to get 'em while they're young). To most, the latter concept is more appealing even if the methods of indoctrination were identical.

Brainwashing is a term that has an entirely subjective use, the determining factor being whether or not one believes an innocent is being damagingly led astray from the truth. So by that, do I think Jesus Camp showcases an example of egregious brainwashing?

Oh, yes.

In fact, Jesus Camp is the scariest movie I've seen in years, and here's what frightened me most about it:

Consider, when debating public policy with a friend or stranger who zealously follows another religion, how impenetrable that person seems, resolving to consider nothing without a basis on scripture as a possible truth. Don't those conversations on abortion, homosexuality, and global warming seem hopeless? If they have ever, in your experience, qualified as a true exchange of ideas, I congratulate you. The point is that the political Christian is conditioned to be immune to the secularist's arguments; when the Bible is introduced into a debate, empirical truths of an issue, despite their relevence, are rendered ineffective. So what are we left with, then? Pure subjectivism -- the winner will simply be the person who has the greater desire to be right. This is what happens on an individual basis, but the evangelicals are pushing that dynamic on a national scale, steamrolling their way into Washington with their imperviousness to objective, scientific evidence, while countering with pathos, pathos, pathos.

The Charismatic Christians are a mobilized force headed by Ted Haggards and Becky Fischers who are demonstrably good at what they do. If the lefties and moderates want to win the game, they don't have to be more correct: just better at it.

Just Saw a Movie: Jesus Camp

GRADE: B+

As a young boy, I spent two summers at a Christian baseball camp sponsored by Athletes in Action. In terms of religiousness, it was only nuanced, so we weren't quite scooping up grounders for the Lord. I mean, we could, but it wasn't necessary. During lunchtime the coaches delivered brief sermons on dedication and success, and at the end of camp some of us won prizes like inspirational sports literature. That was the extent of the proselytizing, and the experience was very pleasant and fun for a certain someone who was raised Miscellaneous Christian.

Now, if we were instructed to call upon the holy spirit to help us steal second or use our bats to smash coffee mugs marked "Government", then it would have begun to resemble the kind of children's Christian retreat highlighted in the documentary, Jesus Camp. "Kids on Fire" is an evangelical summer camp in Devil's Lake (yeah), North Dakota, that uses intense preaching methods to mold children into ministers in the hopes that they will one day "take back America for Christ." It serves as the center of the film's subject matter, and much of its footage will leave you wondering how the filmmakers acquired such a bewildering level of access.

Though the liberal segment of its viewership will be convinced otherwise, Jesus Camp is not in itself an all-out assault on Charismatic Evangelicals' use of children as soldiers in "God's army". Its subjects, themselves, even laud the film as a terrific promotional tool for what they do, going so far as to link Jesus Camp's listings on its Web site. How can this be?

It helps that filmmakers Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady let the footage do the talking, so what audience members get is what they bring to it. Ewing and Grady also piece it together to highlight the connection between these hardcore evangelized children and their current and future political impact. As a result, most anyone left of center (or even left of right-of-center) will reserve jeers for Becky Fischer, a founder of Kids on Fire. Especially when she praises children, in general, because "they are so usable" for what she's doing. On the other hand, Air America talk host Mike Papantonio's hammering criticism in the film will give evangelical audiences someone to throw popcorn at. So, fun is to be had by all.

Jesus Camp follows three children: 12-year-old Levi, the skinny, long-haired aspiring preacher; 10-year-old Tory, a dancer who fears that at times she dances more "for the flesh" than for the Lord; and 9-year-old Rachael, a freckled redhead who struggles to develop her skills in proselytizing to strangers. The film has a lot of compassion for the kids, and it successfully conveys that they have the same needs, desires, and insecurities as most other prepubescents -- the church is just their outlet. Shy Levi, when practicing his sermon on a lonely outdoor pavillion, imagines a crowd screaming as if he were a rockstar taking the stage. Tory is visibly empowered during a prayer session once she takes the microphone, and the rest of her peers mirror her tearful catharsis in a wave of acceptance.

It's painfully easy to relate to these children no matter what your religious angle happens to be. Based on that, however, you'll either rail upon the injustice done to them or cheer them along in their development as Christians. Either way, Jesus Camp's treatment of its principal tykes will draw some real emotion from anyone who was conscious during the ages of 5 to 13.

I found myself laughing at several moments in disbelief, seeing just how much people can attribute trifles to God's will -- in all sincerity. Before the campers arrive, the counselers make their rounds, combining their prayers for the audiovisual equipment in the auditorium to work properly, and, with special attention, to bless the PowerPoint. (I'm not saying I've never asked Christ to ensure the function of a PowerPoint presentation -- it's just that it later became apparent that He had other things to do that day). It's starkly evident how much their lives revolve around their faith, like when little Rachael asks the Lord to guide her plastic bowling ball toward the pins for a strike. Again, not something I haven't done, but it wasn't with this kind of earnestness.

The main trouble I had with Jesus Camp's execution, though, was how plenty of its shots howl their metaphorical subtext, like when Becky Fischer drives through an automatic car wash. Bubbling over the windshield and obscuring her view are waves of red soap solution, or BLOOD! The sequence has no reason for being except that it provides another context for the radio reports that develop the political background for the doc. Other shots are so intently framed that they come off as amateurish, making sure to get that photo of Bush next to the mother's face as she speaks or the kid's determined silhouette next to that steeple out the window. Jesus Camp has plenty of telling "subtleties", but at times it tries too hard to capture these "well, yeah" visual relationships that are only poignant when displayed in the extreme. The scene where the children are led to fervently exalt and pray toward a cardboard cutout of President Bush as their political savior, I'd say, does a much better job of adding to the discussion.

Still, the sign of a strong documentary is the inability for the audience to know what its creators' true intentions are on such a polarizing subject. Clearly, I see Ewing and Grady sneaking in a notable amount of secularist subtext, but that may say more about me than the film, itself.

Curses! Foiled Again!

What seemed to have happened in Greeley last week was a rejected plotline from Dawson's Creek. UNC's backup punter stabbed the first stringer in the leg to take his spot against Texas State? Are you kidding me? I mean, couldn't he have just hired a goon, by sportsmanly American tradition, to club the guy in the knee?

So no, not Dawson's Creek -- we've got to dig for this one. I'm thinking a turn-of-the-century melodrama. Instead of a black hoodie, the attacker would more appropriately have donned a stove-pipe hat and a black coat with tails. Then, upon prancing back to the shadows, he'd have connivingly stroked his handlebar moustache while watching his victim limp away.

"Yes! Ye-e-e-e-e-s."

The media attention, though let's say undeserved, was to be expected. It's not because it was one of those "you just can't write a story like that" stories: This situation was insane because it has been written many times by bad writers, and we just didn't think an athlete would seriously hatch that kind of plan in real life. Again.

But the attacker's evil scheme came to no avail. UNC pulled the upset without him, splitting the punting duties between a freshman and their strong safety. Even Stephen Colbert weighed in on the story last week, Wagging the Finger at UNC coach Scott Downing for not considering suspect Mitch Cozad:

“What are you thinking, coach? You give the starting job to the player who wants it the most. Now that’s what I call teamwork!"

And that wasn't even my favorite quote. Some players, perhaps overcome by the preposterousness of the occurrance, still vouched for Cozad's character (from Yahoo! News 9/16):

Cozad, who graduated from Wheatland in 2004, was "very passionate about kicking and punting" in high school, said another of his former teammates, running back Matt Carberry.

"He's always been different," Carberry said. "Not stabbing-people different, but different."

A Non-Traditional Student

Wanna-be politicians are in almost every college class, but in my Mass Media & Society course, there's an attendee who... well, is a politician.

Colorado state representative Mark Cloer sits in the front of my Communications class at the instructor's left flank. Until we went around the class giving name/major/year-in-college introductions, no one knew who the hell he was. So it's not like having Ted Kennedy in my class, but I am thankful for that always having been the case.

Now, I wanted to write about this a couple weeks ago, but I forgot the man's name. This week I was reminded thanks to the large print on the stylish tote bag he carries around.

Rep. Cloer certainly has a sense of humor. Not that he ever says anything funny, but rather if you direct a corrupt-politician stereotype at him, he laughs instead of maybe hurling his tote at you. He had put up his best laughing for a recent class discussion in which the centerpiece was a debate exclusively between himself and instructor Sharon Peters, former editior of the Colorado Springs Gazette.

"The news media presents positive and negative stories with equal frequency -- it's just that people remember more of the negative stories," said the former newspaper editor.

"No, the media loves negativity because that's what sells, especially stories on political figures," said the politician.

"This is kind of surreal," said the rest of the class to themselves.

The man really sticks out in this class, which is actually unusual considering my college. UCCS is agreeably a commuter school with more than its share of older attendees, but in this particular Mass Media class the seats are mostly filled with typical Abercrombie-clad, WB-addicted(excuse me -- CW-addicted) Communications students. One would see this as the 38-year-old politician's opportunity to get hip with the kids, you know, see what's cool with the young voters, but so far we see him as a real L-7 square, daddio. You can feel the energy in the room just drop with a groan whenever he raises his hand.

Oh, great, Cloer wants to talk again.

Again, he isn't a disagreeable guy by any means, but he's one of those, you know: having something to say about everything without ever seeming opinionated, which doesn't go over well in this setting. All I'm saying is that Rep. Cloer would have to leave the class if it came to a vote.

Ah'm Skeered

I've been maintaining my figurative anti-MySpace hunger strike quite easily lately. But today someone's just ordered a pizza, and I don't think I can refuse a slice once it comes.

Story: This year I'm a co-executive for my school's chapter of Sigma Tau Delta -- the International English Honor Society (Not something you'd expect from someone who wrote that title up there, but eh.). In short, we're a group of English major/minor bookworms who sponsor literary-minded fundraising events, donating those proceeds to literacy-promoting recipients like elementary school libraries. It's a terrific club to be in, let alone head. Never mind the unfortunate acronym -- Sincerity Truth Design: during the organization's establishment in 1929, the more amusing interpretation probably didn't exist. Back then, people may have still thought syphillus and crabs were merely genetic.

Digression? I think it was necessary. Anyway, since it's still early in the semester, our greatest concern at STD is spreading our influence and bolstering membership. In our latest meeting, we discussed new outlets through which we can popularize STD on and off campus. One of our new members then offered to create a MySpace profile for the club, filling all others present with a collective breath of awe (Why didn't we ever think of that?). I nodded resignedly.

The problem is this isn't a bad idea.

And I believe it entails that, should we follow through with the plan, all members must create profiles. That includes me, of course, but I tried very hard to visualize a MySpace site for the club from which the club's co-president is curiously missing, and that just wouldn't reflect well on STD.

At this point, it seems that all I'm doing is struggling to avoid ridicule from friends. So if and when Sigma Tau Delta gets a MySpace page, I really don't think I'm going to run from The Blob anymore.

I mean, no sense in being a bitch about it.

The Chicken or the Pixelated Egg

I've always had a relatively pussy way of playing through Grand Theft Auto games. My friend, who's loaned me the games in the past, would occasionally mock me for not killing people unless it was pertinent to the current mission. In his eyes, I was not fully capitalizing on the freedom the series famously affords the gamer. I was lovin' it nonetheless, but that's not to say that accidents didn't happen. I've flattened several computer-generated pedestrians during a high-speed chases, but I insist that many of them were jaywalking at the time. And yes, one time I did kill a computer-generated old lady with a katana, but it too was an accident, for I was trying to hit a rival gangmember who was filling me with bullets from a Tec-9, and the lady's pixels were tragically within the arc of my swing. I could barely concentrate for the rest of the day.

She didn't have to die.

Needless to say, most gamers don't approach the GTA games like I do, which is why the video game industry is under the increasing scrutiny of lawmakers and parents. Lately the battle over adult content is going back and forth. Still hurting from the Hot-Coffee scandal, Take-Two Interactive might change the name of its upcoming game, Bully, in Europe to calm protestors (it's Canis Canem Edit now -- Latin for Dog Eat Dog). So game developers are smoothing some edges from their games in response to widespread criticism, but they're not losing the free-speech front. Last week Louisiana courts blocked a measure to ban the sale of M-rated games to children -- a measure that sounds similar to what we already adhere to with R-rated films or parental advisory music, but it's much more restrictive (Theaters and retailers are not federally bound to bar minors from such purchases -- they enforce those rules themselves as part of agreed practice). The "anti-game crusaders," led by the likes of Florida attorney Jack Thompson and Sen. Hillary Clinton, aren't going to get any of their proposals passed this way. They're trying to argue the corrupting nature of violent video games in order to pass more restrictions purchasing mature content, but their lack of evidence will continue to stifle them.

First off, this anti-game camp likes to swing "scientific studies" like a club. But what they're holding most of the time is only a whiffle bat: pro-ban prosecutors and politicians are particularly proud of any that claim individuals who play violent video games tend to behave aggressively. I see nothing inherently wrong with that statement, but hopefully one bears in mind that it adds absolutely nothing to their argument. These studies fail to take into account the possibility that violent people are perhaps drawn to violent video games to begin with, and these people could have initially been "made" aggressive by unrelated means. This is much like the study that recently came out linking increased sexual activity in teens with the listening of modern hip hop. That shouldn't shock you either, but with this study also, scientists can't truly say which propensity begat the other; they can only infer that the behaviors maybe reinforce one another, at the most.

Now, if San Andreas or Bully could be proven to mold a naturally non-violent person into a beligerent one (or "train him/her to kill", as Jack Thompson insists) with no other discernable socializing factors involved in the process, then they've got something resembling tested evidence. We'd know which one was the cause for the other. But researchers would have to devise a study satisfying all those criteria, and I'm glad that's not my job.

But all media, I'm convinced, not only influence a culture's tastes but are in turn dictated by them. You can complain about the pervasiveness of Nick and Jessica news coverage in lieu of the reconstruction woes in New Orleans, but ask yourself: Aren't we getting just what we want? (Sites like Yahoo News list the day's Top Viewed and Emailed stories if you're ever curious about what we've been wanting lately) Although it's reasonable to say that the onslaught of trifling celebrity drama stories, for example, helps fasten them into our American consciousness, a strong affinity for celebrity worship had to be there for us to buy the crap in the first place. You don't stay in business as a news network, magazine, and yes -- video game publisher -- unless you can cater to your audience's already-existing tastes.

I'm led to believe it's a give and take. So when it comes to video games, something has to be there within us to want to venture out and virtually behead a prostitute, as it were, or thin out a crowd of zombies with a lawnmower (Dead Rising). That drive may have come from other mature video games, but that's giving games too much credit -- I'm thinking movies, music, TV, politics, poverty, family, life, in addition. We should be just as concerned with the societal factors that lead to the popularity of Mature-rated games among kids as we are about their influences on their behavior. If not more so.