(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
Let me say right away: This article is not an attempt to revive the discussion of so-called "fake news", this mantra that suddenly became a kind of widely accepted disease diagnosis on the information flow that surrounds us – or perhaps for the time being. Initially, I am skeptical of the widespread embrace of this term, as what was known was put on the agenda by a US president who himself has a mildly flexible relationship to truth and documentable information. By accepting the premise of the discussion, one also helps legitimize the same president's dismissal of any criticism – no matter how well documented it may be – that fabricated falsehoods. Language creates reality, and this mantra helps Trump succeed in his strategy of diverting attention from his own fire by launching other fires, and reducing fact-based knowledge into a claim statement.
Postmodern state. Still, I do not disregard that Trump's false warning of fake news is in itself a symptom of the fact that the genuine and authentic is losing its relevance. After all, we live in a time where any form of communication is treated as "storytelling" – and judged on whether they "work" rather than on its possible truth content. Possibly one can say that we have reached an extreme version of the postmodern state, where everything is a form of fabrication or representation. This was at least the impression I left with after watching the Danish-produced film Dream Empire at this year's documentary film festival in Thessaloniki, where it deservedly won the main prize The Golden Alexander Award.
Director and narrator David Borenstein started recording this documentary as early as 2012, when he stayed in China as an anthropology student focusing on the extremely growing urbanization there. At this point, the Chinese construction boom should have reached its absolute peak: During the three years from 2011 to 2013, China reportedly used as much concrete as the United States did throughout the 1900th century.
The film is based on this explosive development, where private companies initiated a number of urban projects for the many Chinese who wanted a more urban life. New big cities popped up in huge numbers around the previously deserted landscape, or on the ruins of old village communities that had to be sacrificed on the urban development's concrete-clad altar.
Constructed bands. When his student scholarship went out, American Borenstein reportedly took whatever little job he could. This brought him into contact with the film's main character, Yana Yang, who worked on bringing artists to the shows of newly constructed residential complexes. To meet the growing demand, the young Chinese were constantly on the lookout for foreigners to participate in constructed bands, dance ensembles and the like, which despite their flawed abilities were often presented as internationally renowned artists. These entertainment features would give the city and residential environment in question an international feel, and thus make the place more attractive to investors and potential home buyers.
China used as much concrete in three years as the United States did throughout the 1900th century.
This is how Borenstein, with his mediocre musical skills, was hired as the "acclaimed clarinetist" in a jazz orchestra and later several country bands – as one of many foreign students, backpackers and expats with well-paid part-time jobs that they even call "white monkeys". These non-distinctive genuine artists are not only found in white editions; we also get bye exotic performances "from Africa", which are no more African than they are performed by people from the US and France.
According to the filmmaker, this does not necessarily mean that the Chinese look to foreigners, but rather that the latter is used to promote sales, also in other ways than as entertainment artists. During the film, Borenstein and his foreign colleagues are hired to play architects as well as home buyers, again to create the sought-after experience of an internationally oriented city in contact with the global economy.
We have reached an extreme version of the postmodern state.
There is a great deal of humor in the absurd role-plays the film portrays, and in the near-total absence of authenticity – which also characterizes some of the construction projects themselves. The quintessential fresh Chinese city of Britishville, made in classic British style, stands as the most striking example in the film.
But the tragedy is never far away either. Although the economic middle class is still growing in the country, these apartments are the most expensive for the regular Chinese. Thus, the construction boom appears to have been an artificial large bubble that had to burst. The film shows how many of the newly-constructed cities have long been left empty, like ruining ghost towns in the middle of the otherwise rural no-man's land – all the more frustrating for the few who have actually moved there.
Yana's story has no happy development either. During the period Borenstein has filmed her, she goes from being an energetic and enterprising entrepreneur to becoming far more resigned and depressed, as a result of the painful experiences she herself has made in connection with this business.
Selling a dream. It's been a long time since marketers shifted focus from the product itself to selling an unspecified promise of a more attractive lifestyle. The methods of making products more visible are becoming more and more hidden, whether it is through paid internet players, strategically leaked "internal documents" or fake artists that spread international luster over newly constructed residential complexes.
Borenstein's documentary does not just describe a hyper-capitalist world where even China has so far unleashed market forces; it also shows a kind of postmodern and post factual state, where facade is far more important than content – and where the real and authentic hardly matters. Why should you, when you sell a dream anyway?
But also dreams create reality. Dream Empire clarifies some of the most real consequences of this almost surreal situation, and is an effective message of concern that most of what we are presented with may be a form of fake marketing. But the solution is hardly to join a fake-news mantra that is itself created on false terms, which is thus just another symptom of the same condition.
