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The West’s Manufactured Fear
How Media Made “The Middle-East” the Enemy
Middle Eastern people have long been used as archetypes of hatred from the CIA-scripted paranoia of Homeland to the endless stream of nameless brown “terrorists” in shows like 24, Western media has choreographed a decades-long spectacle of othering. Homeland alone—winner of Emmys and Golden Globes—built its success on the fantasy that every Arab is a potential threat, every Middle Eastern city a breeding ground for “chaos”. It turned suspicion into plot structure and made Arab, and specifically Arab Muslim identity synonymous with violence.
Artists write ‘Homeland is racist’ graffiti on set
Hollywood didn’t invent racism, but it gave it high production value. Generations of Western audiences were conditioned to associate brown skin, spoken-Arabic, or a headscarf—often a keffiyeh-like item—with danger. Whether it was the desert villains in Iron Man, the dehumanized “others” in American Sniper, or the background bodies in every post-9/11 thriller, the message has been consistent: fear the “Middle-Easterner”.

Edward Said, in Orientalism, taught us this narrative isn’t accidental; it’s a strategy. It creates the “Other” to justify war, surveillance, and empire. Every film, ad, or news clip showing an “Arab-looking man” as a gunman or scowling fanatic is another brick in the wall of our collective fear.
Frantz Fanon described the violence of representation as psychic and systemic: a colonizer’s gaze that dehumanizes and flattens. When you tell the world that Arabs look threatening—even subtly—you teach your audiences to trust the army, the drone, the visa rejection. Colonization didn’t end with treaties; it continues in every biased frame.
That frame intensified during the Gulf Wars and solidified during the so-called “War on Terror.” Real names, lives, and stories were wiped clean. The brown man became interchangeable with “terrorist.” Middle Eastern diversity—trauma, art, resistance, complexity—reduced to a single trope.
Even “progressive” media became cages: Palestinians pleading for basic human rights are framed as “radical.” Arabs who speak on their trauma must abandon naming the very reason for their trauma, or else be banned, de-platformed, or erased.
Recently, there has been a surge in the circulation of James Baldwin’s reflections on love—often shared out of context and in ways reminiscent of the selective quoting of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, frequently used to soften or obscure his radical critique of American racism. However, Baldwin’s political commitments were far more confrontational than these appropriations suggest. In a 1970 interview with The Boston Globe, he made his position on settler colonialism and violence clear:
“I don’t believe they have the right, after 3,000 years, to reclaim the land with Western bombs and guns on biblical injunction.” — James Baldwin
Baldwin saw the through-line between empire and Zionism. He understood that the same moral machinery that justified slavery, apartheid, and occupation now props up the Israeli regime—and silences anyone who questions it.
And while we’re fed endless fear of Iran—endless warnings, sanctions, and think tank narratives—the truth is this: Israel is the only nuclear power in the Middle East. The real, undeclared nuclear threat. It has refused to sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. It is armed, volatile, and presently engaged in what the UN’s own experts are calling genocide in Gaza. Iran, by contrast, has no nuclear arsenal. But in the Western narrative? Iran is the mad bomber. Israel is the beacon of democracy.
This inversion is not accidental. It’s narrative warfare. It is a campaign of misrepresentation that began in Hollywood, matured in U.S. foreign policy, and continues today on every front page and every algorithm.
What can dismantle this architecture of hatred? We must write new scripts:
Demand representation with dignity: Films, ads, and series must show Palestinians, Iranians, Syrians as whole people—artists, teachers, rebels, lovers.
-
Center intersectional critique: Connect Orientalism to white supremacy, Christian nationalism, and colonial nostalgia.
-
Invite Arab storytellers: Fund, platform, commission, and center our voices.
-
Repair public understanding: Teach audiences that the threat was never our existence—it was the empire that needs enemies to survive.
We’ve never been enemies. We were written as enemies.
It’s time to change the script—and write our own stories centering our perspectives and truths. Truthfully, at the time we are in, our lives depend on it.
{
"article":
{
"title" : "The West’s Manufactured Fear: How Media Made “The Middle-East” the Enemy",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/the-wests-manufactured-fear-how-media-made-the-middle-east-the-enemy",
"date" : "2025-06-16 16:53:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/2025_6_16_Manufactured_Hatred_EIP_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Western media has choreographed the fantasy that every Arab is a potential threat.",
"content" : "Middle Eastern people have long been used as archetypes of hatred from the CIA-scripted paranoia of Homeland to the endless stream of nameless brown “terrorists” in shows like 24, Western media has choreographed a decades-long spectacle of othering. Homeland alone—winner of Emmys and Golden Globes—built its success on the fantasy that every Arab is a potential threat, every Middle Eastern city a breeding ground for “chaos”. It turned suspicion into plot structure and made Arab, and specifically Arab Muslim identity synonymous with violence.Artists write ‘Homeland is racist’ graffiti on setHollywood didn’t invent racism, but it gave it high production value. Generations of Western audiences were conditioned to associate brown skin, spoken-Arabic, or a headscarf—often a keffiyeh-like item—with danger. Whether it was the desert villains in Iron Man, the dehumanized “others” in American Sniper, or the background bodies in every post-9/11 thriller, the message has been consistent: fear the “Middle-Easterner”.Edward Said, in Orientalism, taught us this narrative isn’t accidental; it’s a strategy. It creates the “Other” to justify war, surveillance, and empire. Every film, ad, or news clip showing an “Arab-looking man” as a gunman or scowling fanatic is another brick in the wall of our collective fear.Frantz Fanon described the violence of representation as psychic and systemic: a colonizer’s gaze that dehumanizes and flattens. When you tell the world that Arabs look threatening—even subtly—you teach your audiences to trust the army, the drone, the visa rejection. Colonization didn’t end with treaties; it continues in every biased frame.That frame intensified during the Gulf Wars and solidified during the so-called “War on Terror.” Real names, lives, and stories were wiped clean. The brown man became interchangeable with “terrorist.” Middle Eastern diversity—trauma, art, resistance, complexity—reduced to a single trope.Even “progressive” media became cages: Palestinians pleading for basic human rights are framed as “radical.” Arabs who speak on their trauma must abandon naming the very reason for their trauma, or else be banned, de-platformed, or erased.Recently, there has been a surge in the circulation of James Baldwin’s reflections on love—often shared out of context and in ways reminiscent of the selective quoting of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, frequently used to soften or obscure his radical critique of American racism. However, Baldwin’s political commitments were far more confrontational than these appropriations suggest. In a 1970 interview with The Boston Globe, he made his position on settler colonialism and violence clear: “I don’t believe they have the right, after 3,000 years, to reclaim the land with Western bombs and guns on biblical injunction.” — James Baldwin1Baldwin saw the through-line between empire and Zionism. He understood that the same moral machinery that justified slavery, apartheid, and occupation now props up the Israeli regime—and silences anyone who questions it.And while we’re fed endless fear of Iran—endless warnings, sanctions, and think tank narratives—the truth is this: Israel is the only nuclear power in the Middle East. The real, undeclared nuclear threat. It has refused to sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. It is armed, volatile, and presently engaged in what the UN’s own experts are calling genocide in Gaza. Iran, by contrast, has no nuclear arsenal. But in the Western narrative? Iran is the mad bomber. Israel is the beacon of democracy.This inversion is not accidental. It’s narrative warfare. It is a campaign of misrepresentation that began in Hollywood, matured in U.S. foreign policy, and continues today on every front page and every algorithm.What can dismantle this architecture of hatred? We must write new scripts:Demand representation with dignity: Films, ads, and series must show Palestinians, Iranians, Syrians as whole people—artists, teachers, rebels, lovers. Center intersectional critique: Connect Orientalism to white supremacy, Christian nationalism, and colonial nostalgia. Invite Arab storytellers: Fund, platform, commission, and center our voices. Repair public understanding: Teach audiences that the threat was never our existence—it was the empire that needs enemies to survive. We’ve never been enemies. We were written as enemies.It’s time to change the script—and write our own stories centering our perspectives and truths. Truthfully, at the time we are in, our lives depend on it. James Baldwin, quoted in The Boston Globe, 1970. (Exact date and interviewer unknown; commonly cited in archival references and Baldwin scholarship.) ↩ "
}
,
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{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
}
,
{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
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,
{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}