documentaries about surveillance

The following is partly a repost; scroll down for a brand new interview with filmmaker Lyric R. Cabral

In most movies, US government agents, whether they are from the FBI, like Mulder and Scully, or from the CIA, like Melissa McCarthy’s character in Spy, invariably play the hero (or heroine) thoughtful, competent, and above all, ethical. The news tells a different story; FBI protection was a key factor in organized crime head Whitey Bulger escaping prosecution for his crimes (which included murder) for decades. When the FBI was investigating the Boston Marathon bombing they interrogated an unarmed immigrant friend of the bombers, and even though he was not implicated in the crime they shot and killed him. Only a few months ago, after targeting a Boston-area Muslim man with surveillance for a number of months, the FBI (teaming with local police) stopped him near a CVS parking lot to “talk” to him. They ended up shooting him dead right there–at 7 a.m. on a workday morning.

To see a portrait of the inner workings of the FBI we have to look to films like the new documentary, (T)ERROR, co-directed by Lyric R. Cabral and David Felix Sutcliffe, which opens in the US starting tomorrow, Oct. 7. In a highly unusual coup, an FBI informant Saeed aka “Shariff” (who used to be Cabral’s neighbor) agrees to be followed by the camera (though he complains to Cabral during closeups, “You’re always getting the fucking headshots”) as he talks about his past cases and sets up a current one.

Saeed is an older Black American Muslim whom we see pull up stakes from his home (so he is away from his young son) and his job as a cook in a high school cafeteria to move to a strange city with his dog and his weed, working on getting entrée into the life of a younger American jihadi, Khalifah al-Akili, who makes mildly inflammatory YouTube videos but seems not to do much else. We see Saeed haggling with the FBI about money (he does not seem to earn much–at all–for his efforts) and admonishing them to stop being so obvious about setting this guy up.

Meanwhile, al-Akili, using Google and a piece of mail he sees on Saeed’s car dashboard figures out his FBI connection early in their acquaintance. We find out later that Saeed started his career with the FBI because he himself was charged with a crime, and then set up a man who was a friend of his to escape punishment, a chilling reminder of the questionable use of informants in the US justice system. This cycle perpetuates to the end of the film–someone barely getting by (al-Akili lives in public housing and does not seem to have a car) preyed upon by someone nearly as desperate, Saeed, as the FBI eggs him on. Saeed seems unrepentant about his targets, saying, “I don’t have no feelings for them. You making the Islam look bad, you gotta go,” but as he smokes blunts and bakes a succession of cakes he seems bent on convincing not just the directors and us, but himself too.

Interview with Lyric R. Cabral

I talked to Lyric R. Cabral, the co-director of the film (who has also worked as an acclaimed photojournalist) by phone a week after the back story behind (T)ERROR was featured on a segment of This American Life.

This interview was edited for clarity and concision and contains spoilers.

Bitch Flicks: When you first knew Saeed, and he was your neighbor and you were spending time hanging out in his apartment, did you ever think, not that he was an informant, because that seems so far-fetched, but that he wasn’t being 100 percent truthful with you?

Lyric R. Cabral: He had a lot of marijuana, like pounds of it in his place. And lots of money there too. One time he took out $2,000 (in cash) right in front of me. But I was busy. I was a student, so I didn’t spend a lot of time trying to fact-check him.

BF: After you found out he was an informant and you knew how much he had lied to you and everyone else was it difficult for you to trust other, new people that you met or believe what they said?

LRC: No, because I feel like I’m a good judge of character in spite of everything–and I didn’t feel like I would know two informants.

BF: Although Saeed sometimes complains when you film him in the movie, he did agree to be in this documentary, which you remind him of. Why do you think he did agree?

LRC: It’s his personality; he’s anti-authoritarian. He’s always kept papers, like old plane tickets that prove that he was in Germany at a certain time as, like, a fact check. And he knew because of the way I’d been with him, even after I found out he was an informant, that I would be fair. Not that I would idealize him but that I would be fair with him. I also think he thinks of his legacy. He has a 9-year-old son and some medical issues, so I think he wants to leave behind some answers for him.

BF: Previously, Saeed had turned in a friend of his, who, we find out in the film was pretty clearly entrapped. Saeed puts up a big front onscreen, but do you think he regrets this or any of the other times he has helped put someone in prison?

LRC: Tariq says they were friends, but Saeed says they only got to know each other as part of the sting operation. The FBI tries to match up people who have the same personality traits (as informant and target). Saeed did start to like him, but by then, because Saeed was wearing a recording device, he couldn’t really stop the operation from happening. The most he could do was turn the device on or off. So he would turn it off when Tariq would start talking about certain things. Or so he says. I do think Tariq weighs heavily on his mind, especially because he will be getting out (of prison) in two years.

BF: You’ve said that you became a filmmaker because you felt your work as a photojournalist sometimes couldn’t tell the whole story. Did you ever feel your previous work had been misunderstood?

LRC: Not really. But you can only show or say so much in a photo and a caption. I felt like filmmaking could show more nuance.

BF: I know you had a successful crowdfunding campaign after the film was completed and shown at festivals because legal worries made insuring the film very expensive. Has the FBI, which doesn’t come off very well in the film, contacted you or your co-director? Have either of you had any experiences that made you think you were being followed or otherwise spied on?

LRC: We tried to get a comment or statement from the FBI back in October of 2014 and they still haven’t given us one. We haven’t been harassed at the border when we have traveled internationally with the film. I did get a piece of malware on my computer though. After we were on Democracy Now someone sent me an encrypted message offering more information–and the keys (encryption) didn’t match up. So then I just emailed the address (without encryption). I got an attachment and my computer started acting crazy. We’re trying to track down who sent the attachment now.

BF: In the film, what turn of events or detail surprised you the most?

LRC: When Khalifah al-Akili was arrested. He was going to give a press conference the next day (about FBI harassment/entrapment). He had just gotten a plane ticket (to get to the conference) 12 hours before. I was surprised how quickly the government can act when they target someone.

BF: (T)ERROR is your first full length documentary. Do you have any advice for women who are making their first documentaries?

LRC: Patience. For anyone starting out, that’s my advice. Filmmaking can take a lot longer than you think. And unexpected expenses can come up, like the (high) insurance premium we had to pay. We started filming in October of 2011 and the film is being released this October, so that’s four years.

BF: Has either just knowing Saeed or making the film changed how you think about the government?

LRC: I didn’t realize how much an informant could set up, that the informant isn’t just observing but is acting and leading. I’m surprised by how much the government depends on these human relationships (between the informant and the target). (Cabral asked the following to be included in this answer in an email she sent shortly after the interview.) I would add, that first meeting Saeed, at the age of 19, informed me that I am a person of surveillance interest to the US government, particularly the FBI. Saeed’s disclosure, which in a way I appreciate because it told me that in essence I was a POI (person of interest), assures me that the government has taken interest in my journalism, personal activities, and social network (at the least because these are things which I openly shared with Saeed, throughout our relationship). Thus I have been able to adjust my communications and behaviors, knowing that active government surveillance may be taking place.

Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing, besides appearing every week on Bitch Flicks, has also been published in The Toast, RH Reality Check, xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender

Written by Rachael Johnson.

The documentary 1971 (2014) tells the gripping story of a group of peace activists who broke into an FBI office in Media, Pennsylvania on March 8, 1971. They called themselves the Citizens’ Commission to Investigate the FBI and their aim was to expose abusive, anti-dissent practices by the Bureau. The activists found what they wanted and were never caught. Making off with a trove of office files, they uncovered an immense and illegal government surveillance program of domestic political groups. One of the stolen documents referred to the now notorious COINTELPRO, a political surveillance program that targeted Black, left-wing, Puerto Rican, and women’s rights organizations as well as the anti-Vietnam war movement. Overseen by FBI head, J. Edgar Hoover, it was both unlawful and un-American as it violated First Amendment rights. The group anonymously dispatched photocopies of the damning evidence to national newspapers. The Washington Post published the story and the FBI was later investigated by Congress.

Directed by Johanna Hamilton, 1971 mixes present-day interviews with members of the group who have broken their silence with footage from the period, photographic stills, documents, and dramatic recreations of the event. Interesting and diverse in terms of personality, age, and background, the group included a married couple with three young children, Bonnie and John Raines; anti-war activist and physics professor, Bill Davidon (the leader of the group); and two younger men, cab driver (and lock-picker) Keith Forsyth and social worker Bob Williamson. The interviews give us a clear sense of what motivated and united them. Keith, still visibly moved decades after, explains that it was his revulsion at the Jackson State shootings that drove him to more “confrontational” political action. “I was done talking,” he says. John speaks eloquently of how surveillance, agent infiltration, and the engineering of paranoia and fear impair both political debate and the morale of activists. “It shrinks the discourse, it shrinks the possibility of resistance,” he observes. It was Bill’s intention to expose the FBI’s anti-dissent aims and practices.

Although very much a committed activist, Bonnie recalls how she was, also, expected to perform a traditionally feminine, domestic role at meetings: “I felt a little bit like I was the den mother for the group…I was fixing meatballs and spaghetti but it was expected that I was going to play that role almost exclusively and I was not real happy about being a little bit marginalized in that kind of way.” It’s a telling reminder that chauvinist, patriarchal attitudes persisted even in progressive circles in the so–called sexually liberated early seventies. John, however, does seem very much a partner and recognizes that Bonnie’s determination to carry out the mission was greater than his. She, also, plays a key part in the break-in.

Bonnie and John are an interesting, admirable couple. Family life did not turn them insular and self-absorbed. They remained committed to caring about the world around them. John had been a freedom rider in the South and he explains how his experiences gave him an understanding of how power operates. John and Bonnie’s situation was, of course, unique. Both parents could have been locked away for a long time. They made plans for close relatives to look after the children if the worst happened but I suppose many would judge them irresponsible and selfish. Bonnie offers a very different take, one that speaks volumes about her resoluteness, level of engagement and selflessness: “We felt that just because we were parents didn’t mean that we could remove ourselves from responsibility, that that would have been kind of a cop-out. We decided that we weren’t going to be content when we continued to see things that really disturbed us.”

Hamilton’s dramatic recreations of the extraordinary event bring to life this real-life political thriller. They are evocative and quite nail-biting, a good deal less phony than most recreations. We follow the group’s preparations and witness the break-in itself, which took place during the night of the Madison Square Garden Ali-Frazier fight of March 8, 1971.

1971 conveys an understanding of the oppressive nature of the FBI’s power as well as an acute awareness of the nastiness of its methods. For many years, the Bureau dedicated itself to stifling freedom of thought and expression through the spread of fear and paranoia, invaded the private space of American citizens and destroyed personal lives. Their schemes were plain evil. The viewer is reminded of that anonymous letter send by the Bureau to Martin Luther King encouraging him to commit suicide.

1971’s depiction of one of the most politically fascinating eras in modern U.S. history is vibrant and characterful but it doesn’t romanticize its subjects. It doesn’t have to. The activists come across as principled, courageous people. Their transgressive act of daring exposed extraordinary abuses of state power. It is a troublesome truth for conservatives and historical amnesiacs but injustice is not always uncovered by strictly lawful means. Hamilton recognizes the story’s historical parallels with Snowden and Wikileaks (Laura Poitras, interestingly, is one of the film’s co-executive producers) as she underscores its importance in the history of American anti-surveillance activism. 1971 is an informative, exciting documentary that needs to be seen.

Tag: documentaries about surveillance

Lies The Government Tells Us: ‘(T)ERROR’ Plus New Lyric R. Cabral Interview

Johanna Hamilton’s ‘1971’: A Thrilling Portrait of Activism