on their screens. The integral reality of the destruction of the morality principle is
confirmed by the disconcerting behavior of the American public in the film Wag the Dog.
Passively consuming simulations that portray Albania as a “staging ground for
terrorism,” the new embodiment of absolute evil in the age of information, American
citizens even purchase t-shirts that read “Fuck Albania.” This disquieting comportment
is indicative of an integral environment where moral judgments outside of the realm of
simulation no longer exist. Baudrillard’s fears about hyper-real representations of the
Holocaust and its denial fit into this context. When a sinister ruler with deadly intentions
does inevitably rise to power, will we be able to recognize the genuine threat that this
person poses to humanity? If such a leader knows how to manipulate codes that signify
the hegemony of the good like Brean and Motss in Wag the Dog, then why would the
legitimacy of his or her actions ever be questioned? Both Levinson and Baudrillard
beckon us to ponder whether morality itself is dead. This unsettling phenomenon could
explain why the viewer inexplicably identifies with Brean and Motss hoping that they
succeed as numerous critics have noted.
The cinematic narrative of good and evil that bares no connection to actual
authentic moral discourse produced by Motss is rendered possible by the seductive
force of the image. In order to overcome Motss’s initial skepticism concerning the
viability of their project, Brean reminds him that the substitution of the image for the real
is hardly a new phenomenon. Offering concrete examples, Brean explains in reference
to numerous conflicts, “You can’t remember the war, but the image remains. You
remember the picture, but you have forgotten the war.” In our “sign soaked culture of
simulacra, simulations, and reproductions,” iconic representations of reality often
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