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Illustration by Zach Trenholm



Why we leer at JonBenet


Dear Camille,

What are your thoughts on the JonBenet Ramsey case? Are you as convinced as I am that daddy did it, and that mommy and daddy are in cahoots to cover it up? (Did you notice the way John Ramsey watched Patsy's face during the CNN interview?) Or has everything become too murky thanks to the ineptitude of the Boulder Police Department? I personally find the continuing press coverage rather weird, largely because goofy pictures of the dolled-up JonBenet, blown up and in color, are still splashed about. Does that seems like latent pedophilia to you, too?

Digging in the Dirt in Seattle

Dear Digging,

Salon's overseas readers will doubtless be baffled by your allusions to the Kiddy Porn Extravaganza that the American media have made of last Christmas Eve's mysterious murder of 6-year-old, blonde JonBenet Ramsey in her affluent family's Colorado home.

At this point, we have been so inundated with the hallucinatory images of little JonBenet flirtatiously strutting her stuff as a rhinestone cowgirl or feather-laden Ziegfeld Follies mannequin that they have lost their power to shock. The week after the murder, a tabloid TV show debuted a full half-hour of grainy, unedited JonBenet performance tapes, which I watched with horrified incredulity. The pushy stage mothers of that fast-track beauty-pageant scene seem to have witchily transmuted their daughters into preening baby geishas.

In George Eliot's great novel "Middlemarch," young Dorothea Brooke, "brought up in English and Swiss Puritanism," is stunned by the grandeur and decay of 19th-century Rome, where the "red drapery" of St. Peter's basilica spreads itself "like a disease of the retina." In America, with its residual Puritanism, the mass media operate as the lurid id from which erupt the repressions of establishment ideology.

The seductive, obsessively repeated girlie shots of JonBenet seem to have taken over the nation's television screens like Eliot's "disease of the retina." The hysteria over day-care child abuse that peaked in America in the early 1990s transmogrified first into fascist surveillance of professional photographers for suspected pedophilia and then into a shrill political crusade to crack down on Internet "indecency," lest it contaminate the family home and infant brain.

It's no surprise that Adrian Lyne's new film version of "Lolita" (which unfortunately, if we believe the first European reviews, sounds mediocre) is having a hard time finding American distributors. The Rousseauist/Wordsworthian view of the pure, saintly child is a national cult in America, which gushes over pet cherubs in order to avoid dealing with the blatant aggressions of its own bloody past.

The prostitution and martyrdom of JonBenet Ramsey has become a strange meditation device for American sentimentalists who can't let go of the pre-Freudian idea of childhood as a sexless paradise garden befouled by serpent adults. I've been struck by press reluctance to consider JonBenet's older brother as a potential player in the family melodrama. Clearly, all kinds of savage psychic energies were loose in that "Twilight Zone" of a house, where the thwarted beauty-queen mother had swallowed up her proxy (the idolized daughter) and perhaps goaded the marginalized males into covert revenge.

That the now strangely drowsy Mrs. Ramsey wrote that hilariously stilted and convoluted ransom note is conceivable. That the arrogant Mr. Ramsey, flaunting his wealth and privilege, cut the balls off the Boulder police department is obvious. While I feel very sorry for poor JonBenet, I still find quite piquant the whole Profanation of Happy Christmas scenario here, where the unctuous cultural rhetoric of Silent Night, Holy Night got blown up by Babylonian trash and flash. All that telltale, unmarked, virgin snow around the Ramsey home! It just goes to show that downtown Manhattan hasn't cornered the market on decadence.


 

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