Into: I found this essay on my student hard drive the other day – it was written for a media paper, and I’d kind of forgotten about it. It’s one of those essays that I wrote in a rush of anti-patriotic rage about shit that really pisses me the fuck off. Thought I’d post it here – mostly for Dean. Hi Dean! I hope you read this and remember all those chats we had about that fucking sauce ad. Yeah, fuck you, Watties. Also, fuck you, Tip Top. Your advertisement about how fat free icecream necessitates cruelty to children cuz we’d “have to find something else to feel guilty about” was also fail.
Oh, though, it’s written like an assessment and not like a piece of writing, so sorry about that.
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The following essay concerns two advertisements for food products which have been shown on New Zealand television, and their contribution to the daily construction of the ‘imagined community’ of Aotearoa/New Zealand. As I will argue, despite the outward innocuousness of the studied texts, their representation of “kiwis”, and the casual, interpellative way in which it is achieved, participates in a far broader and more problematic system of rhetoric that it may otherwise appear – simply put, that these advertisements, and others like them, assist in the constitution of an identity that precipitates racism and war.
Relating such subtle and commonplace examples to such extremes may at first appear surplus or excessive, and it would, of course be seriously reductive to consider the two advertisements I will discuss as responsible for all the evil done in the name of the nationalism. However, as Michael Billing points out in Banal Nationalism, it is possible to read such things as advertisements as representative of a much larger problem, because it is precisely the most daily and apparently unobtrusive ‘flaggings’ of nationhood that provide the ground, the bank of images, the ideology and, most importantly the passion that supports the kinds of nationalist extremes which can arise in times of crisis, such as war or recession. As Billig takes pains to point out, while the word nationalism tends to be associated with fringe minorities, and commonly thought of as representative of ‘dangerous and powerful passions’ and ‘extraordinary emotions,’ it is equally common in mainstream western democracy. Citing such conflicts as the first Gulf War and the British engagement in the Falkland Islands/Maldives, Billig describes how a rhetoric privileging and normalising the importance of the, or a, nation has been used by Presidents, Prime Ministers and newspapers alike to support a call to arms to the populace (whether literally, in the sense of enlisting in the army, or ideologically, in the sense of offering political support.) For despite the fact that nation-states are historically recent, despite the fact that they are difficult to define, far from being the premise of tin-pot militias or the extreme right, describing the nation and putting forth that description as superior to all others is the bread and butter of the modern eve of battle address. Secondly, Billig argues, the modern conception of the nation is employed not just to support specific nations, but to support, and justify actions in the name of, the very idea of nations. As he writes, modern citizens are called to make, and, perhaps more importantly, to justify ‘ultimate sacrifices’, as the cause of nationhood is greater than life itself. As he puts it, ‘the moral aura of nationalism is invoked: heads will be nodded, flags will be waved and tanks will roll.’ For these reasons, Billig considers it a mistake to regard nationalism as the premise of as something that ‘occurs “there” on the periphery, not “here” in the centre,’ for, as he argues, it is certainly, and constantly ‘here.’
Billig’s conjecture is, as I have indicated, that ‘the intermittent crises depend on existing ideological frameworks.’ While the colloquial use of the term nationalism can perhaps be read as the extreme demonstration of the following, it is in fact built from a framework of recognisable symbols and signs that constitute national identity. These signs exist as background noise to our daily life, and can be called upon when it is (seen to be) necessary to care about them. Billig describes this background construction as ‘banal nationalism’, which he delineates from the common usage of nationalism by using the analogy of a flag: during war, when nationalism is invoked, the flag is flying proudly at the forefront of the army. During peacetime, it may hang innocuously on the front of a post office. This post office flag is representative of banal nationalism – quiet, usual, expected, but unarguably there, and constantly engaged in reproducing the whatever nation it serves. For the salient point of this delineation is not what is delineated between, but that which remains the same; regardless of how it is being invoked, the flag always means the same thing. It means “this nation.”
Given this framework of banal nationalism, it is possible – and perhaps necessary – to examine the most day to day of experiences in order to attempt to locate national identity being constructed or constituted – or as Billig calls it, in reference to his analogy, ‘flagged’. Relating to Aotearoa/New Zealand, there are as many sites for potential study as anywhere else in the world, but in order to narrow the thesis, my line of inquiry is directed towards the way food is sold. For this purpose I have selected two advertisements for food products containing what (arguably) are common tropes of “kiwi-ness” in their sales pitches. As I will argue, these two advertisements (and by proxy, all of their ilk) contribute to a very specific and rigid nationalist grounding.
These two advertisements are as follows: one for Watties brand tomato Sauce, the other for Tip Top brand “Supersoft” white bread. They both refer specifically to New Zealand and New Zealanders through the use of terms like ‘kiwi’ and ‘this country’ and both use techniques to hail the viewer into regarding themselves in the context of their national identity. Through direct address of actor to camera (in the case of “Supersoft”), and the use of the term “you” (as in “Watties Sauce”,), these commercials serve to interpellate the viewer into the subject position of being a “kiwi” or being not a “kiwi”. By attempting to associate the products with what is assumed to be the national character, or national habit of Aotearoa/New Zealand, the advertisements in fact reproduce and in so doing constitute the character that is thought of. In so doing, these advertisements serve the same purpose as the flag at the front of the post office.
Banal nationalism can be visually observed in both advertisements as they both have more or less identical settings. “Tomato Sauce,” shows images of children at barbeques with bare feet, the beach and other outdoor settings, as does “Supersoft” (though in “Supersoft”, it is only one backyard in which the children are barefoot.) Outdoorsy, “no frills” attitudes are presented in both advertisements as typically – and properly – “kiwi”, and in this many observers would agree (that they are thought of as typically “kiwi”, not that they necessarily are.)
This can be seen in both “Supersoft” and “Watties Sauce”, in the positing of characters comprised of traditionally “kiwi” traits in against some other, less appealing trait, which is presumably a trait associated with other countries and other values. In “Watties Sauce” this becomes apparent in once scene, in which a “typical” – that is, he is white, middle aged and casually/rurally dressed – Kiwi male is shown applying the aforementioned sauce to a sushi roll while the jingle exclaims, as mentioned, that “you’ll never be a kiwi ’till you love our Watties sauce.” What is important in this scene is not that this man, demonstrably kiwi within the diagesis of the advertisement (since he – clearly – loves his Watties Sauce,) likes this particular brand of ketchup, but that he loves it at the expense of his experience of another culture. He is a “kiwi”, which means he cannot eat Japanese food as Japanese people might intend him to. Rather, he must “kiwify” it lest it breach his national character. In this way, community is ‘imagined’, just as Benedict Anderson would suggest; to eat Japanese food would be “not kiwi”, therefore, by that limit, we can establish what a “kiwi” is. There are connotations here that suggest that the eating of food sans sauce would cause the man to become feminised (and thus “soft” or “effete”) especially since his dining companion, a female, appears to be enjoying the dinner without any help from Watties. There is also a contrast with the assumed national character of the Japanese, which is shown in the commercial to be up-market and highly ritualistic (the Japanese waitress appears in full national costume.)
These connotations of the effeteness of being “not kiwi”are called upon and even more explicitly expressed in “Supersoft.” This commercial begins with a young woman asking a child at a party who has just won a race. When she is told ‘mum says we all won,’ she then turns to the camera, and, looking at the viewer announces ‘this country’s going soft.’ Following this pronouncement, she then explores the child’s birthday party, speaking with children and parents and repeatedly being appalled at further outbreaks of “softness”. Apparently, according to Tip Top, New Zealanders have been spending all together too much time calling a spade a racist epithet, for playing “cowboys and Native Americans” (rather than “Indians”), wishing to eat free range eggs (instead of battery) and wearing a helmet while riding a bicycle are all regarded as “soft.” These actions are treated to eye-rolling and a disdainful shake of our protagonist’s head. The advertisement’s conjecture, as told by the young woman, is that Tip Top white bread should be the only soft thing in a New Zealander’s life. “Enough is enough, New Zealand,” she tells the camera, as the viewer is called upon to examine whether or not they have strayed far enough from the national character to be considered “soft” or otherwise “not kiwi”.
What is interesting about “Supersoft” is that it has side-stepped the association of masculinity and “kiwi” by placing a woman in the role of speaking to New Zealand. Robin Laws in particular has discussed the ways in which New Zealand identity can be constructed in a way that excludes women, meaning women are either required to place themselves in opposition or assume a masculine role when placing themselves in the framework of national identity. It could certainly be argued that this is happening here, though at the same time, the complications of delineating a “masculine role” are myriad. What is certainly true is that Tip Top considered it in their interest to represent a “kiwi” in the form of a woman. This does not, however, even remotely challenge the issue at the heart of banal nationalism, which is that ‘flagging’, constitution of both the “is” and the “isn’t” of national identity occurs on a daily basis. Furthermore, even when it appears to be little more than a hook to sell a product, it still performs a constitutive function which serves to declare both what “kiwis” should be and to sort them from the “not kiwis” even within our own social structures, and even where statements are presented in such chummy, casual ways so as to appear “common sense.”
“Common sense,” of course, is precisely where ideology hides. The most dangerous argument, as Billig points out, and as many cultural theorists would second, is the argument that disguises itself as natural, because that is the argument which has the power to convince without appearing to do anything. Billig’s supposition is that, regardless of the challenge to the traditional nation posed by postmodernism, there is still plenty of power and there are still plenty of guns. There also seems to be – still – plenty of war (in fact, an entirely new Gulf War – and an entirely new President Bush – have risen since Billig was writing.) But since Aotearoa/New Zealand, being of little strategic importance to anyone, is unlikely to take on or be attacked by a global power (though plenty of troops from New Zealand have been sent to foreign conflicts,) I would posit that the most likely occurrence of extreme nationalism over the next few years is (or will continue to be) the marginalisation of those who fall into the category of “not kiwi”. For example, the recent economic crisis has prompted “kiwi jobs for kiwi workers” arguments from write-in commenters, as well as some prominent workers unions, which call for those not born in “here” to move away (or “back where they came from”) to create more jobs for those born in New Zealand. No matter that many of these immigrants have families, social networks and lives in New Zealand. No matter that migrants are lured to New Zealand during prosperous times with a promise of eventual residency. In this line of argument, this nation has been constituted, and “they” are not of it – “they” do not form one of the building blocks of “our” national identity. Billig argues that it behoves the reader to take on an attitude of ‘watchful suspicion,’ where nationalist flaggings are concerned, and regarding that advice, readers of this essay, and, I might add, this author, might be inclined to agree. Banal, as Billig tells us, does not equal benign.
Works cited:
Anderson, Benedict, Imagined Communities, London, New York: Verso, 1991
Appadurai, Arjun, ‘Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy’ in Meenakshi Gigi Durham and Douglas Kellner (eds.), Media and Cultural Studies: Key Works, Oxford: Blackwell, 2006
Billig, Michael, Banal Nationalism, Sage: London, 1995
Kiwiana http://www.eske-style.co.nz/kiwiana.asp, accessed 14/05/09
Law, Robin, in ‘Maculinity, Place and Beer Advertising in New Zealand: The Southern Man Campaign’, in New Zealand Geographer, 53:2, 1997
Without wishing to set off too many liberal alarm bells (it’s almost certainly a coincidence,) ‘enough is enough’ was the T-shirt slogan adopted by the Destiny Church in their 2005 march on parliament to protest the Civil Unions bill, that is, the first state recognised partnership contract that could legally be made between heterosexual and homosexual couples. The slogan referred to, as one church member told me when I was there (I was marching for the bill and against the church, please note!) the fact that they were “sick of the gays trying to take over everything.”
