Daily Times

John Bull is the personification of Great Britain, or at least used to be in the days of the Empire. He is a corpulent, middle-aged man with a Union Jack waistcoat, much like Uncle Sam. Both figures stand for the political and cultural dominance of their respective countries. Uncle Sam, of course, is the more visible and relevant figure now.

James Bond is a popular film franchise for a number of reasons. Created by a former intelligence operative named Ian Fleming in the 1950s, the fictional spy has taken on some of the most psychotic super villains from around the world. His bearing, cars and Bond girls make him a debonair in the gritty world of espionage. It is supposed to be ‘classy’ entertainment but there is a downside. Entertainment can also work as a subtle means of introducing and reinforcing ideological narratives.

In certain ways, James Bond helps promote western political power and provides the English with a vicarious experience of neo-colonial world domination. Bond films show a world threatened by terrorism, economic collapse and nuclear doomsday scenarios. In these precarious situations, Bond is a resourceful Englishman bringing order and some measure of stability to the chaos of the world. In many cases, the chaos is shown to stem from the east (the east here includes Russia). This is a recurrent theme in global political affairs. Somewhere outside the comity of civilised nations lies the ‘axis of evil’ and the ‘rogue’ states, the despotic regimes of recalcitrant countries that are opposed to the civilised world order. This notion seems to perpetuate the 18th century idea that the west (or the UK) brings civilisation and order to the unruly and disruptive corners of the underdeveloped world. Some films of the Bond franchise can be reinterpreted on these lines.

It begins with Dr No (1962). In his first outing, 007 faces an elusive member of SPECTRE (Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion). This is Dr No, the child of a Chinese mother and a German father who rejected him. No’s complex character is shaped by the event and his agenda carries an undertone of ‘getting even’ with the western world. The US space programme becomes a natural target for his diabolical scheme. The half-Chinese maniac has to be stopped. This is an old colonial narrative. Powerful Orientals, like native princes in India, were portrayed as wild, childish and mercurial. They posed a threat to civilised society and removing them was a service to a good cause. Predictably, the English spy disposes off the evil doctor.

Die Another Day (2002) uses a North Korean villain to augment the ‘rogue nation’ idea that has been central to US and British foreign policy postulates. Colonel Tan Sun Moon, the son of a senior-ranking general, is a ruthless upstart in the North Korean military. He trades in conflict diamonds to acquire sophisticated weaponry that will help his forces float over the one million land mines the Americans have laid on the border between North and South Korea. He is obsessed with the Allied powers’ division of the once contiguous Korea and wants to undo a historical wrong.

In the beginning of the film, Bond tails Colonel Moon but is caught. In an important confrontation, Colonel Moon says to Bond, “It is pathetic that you British still believe you have the right to police the world.” Here, Moon embodies the postcolonial Asian ‘talking back’ to the empire. But this is where the film is at its cleverest. The film subtlety reinforces the idea that it seemingly questions in the beginning. It is a British agent who confronts the Oriental evil that the young upstart stands for, and it is Bond who stops Moon from launching a nuclear war between North Korea and the US. Here is how.

Colonel Moon has a secret weapon: a satellite laser called Icarus that is able to amplify and direct the heat of the sun to any destination. It can be used to provide sunlight to crops at night and increase all sorts of solar-based productivity. Conversely, it can be used as a powerful weapon. One way of interpreting this is that modern technology in the hands of Oriental loose cannons like Moon can become a threat to the world. It falls to the UK to save us from this menace. Even the Americans are outdone by the English in this endeavour. The arrogant CIA director miscalculates and it is the British who prevent the landmines on the border from being blown up by Moon’s laser. As if assuaging the brunt of the Tony-Blair-as-Bush’s-lackey image, the UK — the less trigger-happy, more reasonable partner — saves the US.

Not all Bond villains are Asians though. The iconic Auric Goldfinger in Goldfinger (1964) is an Englishman. So are Alec Trevelyan in GoldenEye (1995) and Elliot Carver in Tomorrow Never Dies (1997). The franchise makes an effort to strike a balance by creating an inclusive list of bad guys. But at least two of these English gentlemen can be discussed in line with the argument developed above.

Auric Goldfinger is in cahoots with the Soviets. He wants to destroy the US’ gold reserves at Fort Knox so that the price of his own stock will rocket. The communists will get economic chaos in the west so the arrangement serves both parties. Goldfinger represents a case of capitalism gone bad. He seeks profit so much he is willing to sleep with the communist for it. The situation is also reflective of the reds-under-the-bed phobia of the 1960s. The message seems to be that some of ‘us’, like the perverse profiteer Goldfinger, can be enlisted by the enemy. Goldfinger, moreover, always had an inclination for evil. He tells Bond he has always been fascinated by gold and, like Biblical villains, has lusted after it. So, an odd Englishman, already flawed in nature, might be enlisted by the enemy and pose a threat.

In GoldenEye, the bad guy turns out to be Bond’s colleague in the superspy league of double Os. But it is not that simple. Alec Trevelyan, we learn, is actually a Leniz Cossack by birth. The Cossacks were an East European community targeted by Stalin in his purges. Alec hates England because England left the Cossacks, including his parents, at the mercy of Stalin’s execution squads. The British Secret Service assumed he was too young to remember when they recruited him. He not only remembers but has carried the memory. He vents his rage when he partners with a Russian military clique to strike England with a secret space weapons’ programme the Soviets had developed long ago. Via an ingenious plot twist, the enemy from within is actually not from within. He is a maniacal outsider threatening to disrupt civilisation. Bond, shaken but not stirred by the revelation, dispatches his only friend in the business to his well-deserved death.

The film business of today is more than entertainment. It is also a powerful tool of disseminating ideological narratives. James Bond is one example of how art, ideology and mass media function together. That does not mean all films are propaganda. And despite everything, it is still fun watching Bond.

The writer is a lecturer in English Literature at Government College University, Lahore