In 1915, D.W. Griffith’s silent film The Birth of a Nation released and almost instantly became a huge success. At the behest of Woodrow Wilson, it also earned itself the honour of being the first film to be screened at the White House. It is now considered a landmark in film-making history for its early contribution to the development of cinematic storytelling techniques.
Ava DuVernay’s brave, and essential, Oscar-nominated documentary, 13th , is a startling reminder that this film is significant for also setting in motion an apocalyptic chain of events that would define race relations in America for the next century. First, it laid the foundation for the continued white-washing of American history. By portraying Black people, specifically Black men, as savages and rapists, it set the tone for all subsequent cultural tarring.
Second, through its portrayal of the Ku Klux Klan, it brought back the White supremacist group into mainstream consciousness with tremendous force. In an eerie example of life mirroring art, the documentary tells us the Ku Klux Klan even copied certain dramatised rituals—such as the burning of the cross—from the film and made it an actual part of their traditions.
Although it references a vast trove of other historical material, the documentary is also a testament to the power of cinema. The Birth of a Nation ensured that despite the banning of slavery, Black people’s struggle for dignity would, at various points in the next century—from the persecution of civil rights activists to the demonisation and mass incarceration of Black men—always suffer at the altar of politics, especially that of white men. DuVernay’s documentary drives home this point by interweaving historical anecdotes with interviews with experts on Black history. 13th is an eloquent thesis against the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution that outlaws slavery, except as punishment for a crime.
Unlucky thirteen
In this caveat to the Amendment, the documentary argues, lie the roots for perpetuating the slavery of Black people, despite its token attempt at promising freedom to all. Consider this: African-Americans now constitute nearly 1 million of the 2.3 million Americans in jail. Moreover, as per the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), an African-American is six times as likely to be incarcerated as a White person.
According to 13th , in the southern states of America that employed about four million slaves during the Civil War, the White ‘masters’ were never going to take the abolishment of slavery quietly. Immediately after the Civil War, thousands of Black men were arrested and put in jail for minor crimes such as loitering and vagrancy. This move to ensure that White people remain in control of African-Americans continues today through mass incarceration.
In 2014, Ta-Nehisi Coates published an essay in The Atlantic titled ‘The Case for Reparations’. He wrote: “Having been enslaved for 250 years, Black people were not left to their own devices. They were terrorised. In the Deep South, a second slavery ruled. In the North, legislatures, mayors, civic associations, banks, and citizens all colluded to pin Black people into ghettos, where they were overcrowded, overcharged, and undereducated. Businesses discriminated against them, awarding them the worst jobs and the worst wages. Police brutalised them. And the notion that Black lives, Black bodies, and Black wealth were rightful targets remained deeply rooted in the broader society.” It is a telling statement of how the country that is synonymous with freedom in the modern world is still in the thrall of a dangerous idea—that African-Americans cannot, and should not, be free.
Much of Coates’ thesis is borne out by 13th . For instance, immediately after The Birth of a Nation released, the popularity of the Ku Klux Klan increased. White supremacists were encouraged to carry out atrocities against African-Americans.
Subtle propaganda
In the 50s and 60s, the successes of the civil rights movement, led by stalwarts such as Martin Luther King Jr., ensured that Black people could not be subjugated through outright racism. A subtler propaganda began. From Nixon to Reagan to Clinton, each successive President nurtured a narrative—and indeed passed laws—that ensured that an ever-greater number of African-Americans were taken off the streets and put behind bars.
In India, this documentary should lend pause to politicians and policy-makers. A 2013 report by the National Crime Records Bureau reveals that 53% of prisoners in India are Dalits, Muslims and Adivasis. While incarceration rates are low compared to America, the mind boggles at the parallels.
At tonight’s Academy Awards, Ava DuVernay’s 13th finds itself in curiously similar company. O.J.: Made in America , for instance, is a five-part mini-series that, through a meticulous reconstruction of O.J. Simpson’s life, traces the defining cultural obsessions of modern America—race, celebrity, media, violence, and the criminal justice system. I Am Not Your Negro , on the other hand, is based on James Baldwin’s unfinished novel Remember This House , and also limns the history of racism in America. Fire at Sea is a moving illustration of the European migrant crisis.
With the election of Donald Trump—and his turning away from the ideals that lend America its hallowed space in the world order—it can no longer be denied that America’s racist past is threatening to inform its present. Therefore, it is striking—and heartening—that most of this year’s Oscar-nominated documentaries explore themes of oppression, racism, and the criminal justice system.
Today, regardless of which film takes home the award, the real victor will the combined clamour for justice that these documentaries make.
