05-22-2006, 09:11 PM
Frm Deccan Chronicle 21 AMy 2006
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->The code world
Â
Austen Ivereigh unveils the Catholic Churchâs battle-plan to rebut Hollywoodâs big summer movie
Rome: With the worldwide rele-ase of the film of The Da Vinci Code, the communications director for the UK branch of Opus Dei, a bundle of nervous energy even in calmer times, can hardly contain himself. âThis is going to be the most exciting month of my life,â Jack Valero grins, as he passes me a bundle of some of the astonishing recent coverage: pages and pages from Time magazine, Le Figaro, the New York Times, Eve, upbeat coverage getting inside the ârealâ Opus Dei, contrasted with the murderous conspirators in the Dan Brown megaseller.
The articles explain the difference between numeraries (celibate members) and supernumeraries (normally married); why they joined this Catholic organisation of 86,000 worldwide dedicated to finding God in their daily work, and how, when you meet them, they are not sinister albino monks but prayerful insurance clerks of conservative temper.
You canât buy this sort of publicity. But should you ever find yourself cast as the central villains in a film based on a novel that has sold 40 million copies and is about to be one of the most widely watched films in history, you can, at least, enable it. When that novel takes as its premise the ârevelationâ that for centuries the Church has covered up the âtruthâ that Christ fathered a line of children through Mary Magdalene, and, even more astonishingly, when people actually believe this stuff. Why not step out into the spotlight and let people see you as you really are? Opus Dei calls this âturning lemon into lemonadeâ.
In New York, Opus Dei offers the media the chance to meet Silas, the murderer in The Da Vinci Code, who turns out to be a Nigerian stockbroker in Brooklyn rejoicing in the name Silas Agbim. He regularly appears on all the major networks, discussing his life and vocation as a supernumerary. âIf we agreed to all the media requests to meet the ârealâ Silas,â says Brian Finnerty of Opus Dei in New York, âheâd have to give up his job and do this full time.â
Watching Valero and his colleagues rush between TV studios, it is hard to remember that this was once the Catholic Churchâs most furtive, defensive organisation, obsessed with secrecy and taking an almost perverse pride in the mediaâs hostility. Once the whipping boy of progressive Catholics, long associated with shadowy Spanish politics and Vatican intrigues, the face of Opus Dei is now Valeroâs cheery, transparent, as open as its doors.
âItâs like living in a goldfish bowl,â he laughs. âPeople know everything about me. Thereâs nothing private about us any more,â he adds. Opus Dei has even been happy to discuss the cilice, the spiky leg-strap that its core members wear for an hour a day. The architect of what has become known as âOperation Transparencyâ is Opus Deiâs communications director, professor Juan Manuel Mora.
<b>An expert in communications at Opus Deiâs Santa Croce University, he has completely overturned the organisationâs subculture in 10 years.</b>Â It would be nice to report that Mora is a stooped, cowled, puffy-eyed octogenarian monk with nervous tics and scars from overzea-lous mortification. In fact âJuanmaâ, as everybody calls him, is, like most leading Opus Dei members, a genial middle-aged Spanish layman in a suit: passionate and charming.
âWe are not taking this lying down,â he tells me over lunch at the university. He has had no more luck than anyone else in securing a preview of the film. It is enough that the film be faithful to the novel, says Mora, to take the assault on the reputation of Opus Dei and the Catholic Church to a whole new level.
âWith the novel, it was a problem of information. We could respond with books, websites and so on, countering falsehoods with truth. But with a film, you have a problem of imagination. People will associate Opus Dei with violence, the Catholic Church with deception. We canât respond to that,â he says. When it learnt that Sony had bought the rights to the book, Opus Dei made contact with the corporation.
Polite letters were sent asking that the name of Opus Dei not be used, and pointing out that because the novel claimed to be based on historical truth, many people were likely not to be able to distinguish fact from fiction. Sony replied with vague letters giving no information about the movie but insisting they had no desire to offend anyone. Mora asked for an interview with Amy Pascal, head of Sonyâs motion pictures division, but was ignored.
Then in December, the filmâs director Ron Howard told Newsweek that the movie would closely follow the book, and implied that Opus Dei was in it. Mora swung into action.
Opus Dei would now say publicly, in a series of carefully timed open letters to Sony, what the corporation had not allowed it to put to them in private. The news this generated would generate public discussion about respect for faith and freedom of speech, and create yet more opportunities to meet the ârealâ Opus Dei, so that the public would be better able to distinguish myth from fact.
In February, against the background of the row over the cartoons of the prophet Mohammed, Opus Dei called on Sony to make changes to the film âin these days in which everyone has noted the painful consequences of intoleranceâ. By making the changes, Sony would demonstrate that freedom of expression is compatible with respect for beliefs.
In the same tone of pained regret and elaborate politeness, Opus Dei in Tokyo wrote to Sonyâs shareholders and directors in April, appealing to Japanese corporate virtue and asking for a disclaimer in the film that would make clear that it was fiction. A disclaimer, the letter said, âwould be a sign of respect towards the figure of Jesus Christ, the history of the Church, and the religious beliefs of viewersâ.
Although Sony hasnât agreed to the disclaimer, the corporation has continually stressed, unlike Brown, that it is a work of fiction. The movie is âa thriller, not a religious tractâ, according to a spokesman, Jim Kennedy. But belying that statement is a website Sony has created âto educate fansâ about theological issues raised by the film. But Opus Dei has stayed positive, patient and polite. The word âattackâ is never used. Sonyâs intentions are never presumed. There is no ping-pong counter-response to the corporationâs statements.
There is barely indignation, let alone anger, in the letters and statements; no calls for boycotts or protests or threats to sue. There is none of the arrogance and defensiveness typical of religious groups deploring offensive books or films. Contrast to this approach with the <b>speech given in Rome last week by Mgr Angelo Amato, the number two at the Vaticanâs Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. He called on Catholics to boycott the film and organise protests. If âsuch lies and errors had been directed at the Koran or the Holocaust, they would have justly provoked a world uprising,â Amato said. </b>
This is what Mora has grasped. âSony is King Kong,â he says. âI want to be cast as the blonde girl. If Iâm the policeman who fires on King Kong, then sympathy will shift from the blonde girl to the beast,â explains Mora. The brilliance of Opus Deiâs strategy is that it realises the bind that Christians in the contemporary West are in. Muslims and Jews deserve respect for their beliefs because they are minorities, while Christians, in spite of all the facts to the contrary, are seen as a hegemonic body which it is therefore legitimate to denigrate. Ironically, this prejudice has been bolstered by secularisation: the less contact people have with churches and Christians, the more inclined they are to believe damaging nonsense about them.
The novel may have its qualities as a page-turner.<b> But only that combination of credulity and prejudice in Western culture can explain why The Da Vinci Code has become the biggest-selling book after the Bible. That is why the real victim here is the Church. The Churchâs best response is to switch public sympathy to where the facts demand it be directed. It can do this only by inviting people to come in and see the truth for themselves.</b> If it tries to play the victimâs power game, sympathy will switch back from the blonde to the beast.
Opus Deiâs strategy wonât stop millions watching the film and believing it. But turning lemons into lemonade has meant, that millions more will know that it is unfair on Christians because of Brownâs claim to a basis in fact. âItâs going to be amazing,â beams Valero. âThen itâll die down, and weâll be happy to be the best-known group in the Catholic Church,â he adds.
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->The code world
Â
Austen Ivereigh unveils the Catholic Churchâs battle-plan to rebut Hollywoodâs big summer movie
Rome: With the worldwide rele-ase of the film of The Da Vinci Code, the communications director for the UK branch of Opus Dei, a bundle of nervous energy even in calmer times, can hardly contain himself. âThis is going to be the most exciting month of my life,â Jack Valero grins, as he passes me a bundle of some of the astonishing recent coverage: pages and pages from Time magazine, Le Figaro, the New York Times, Eve, upbeat coverage getting inside the ârealâ Opus Dei, contrasted with the murderous conspirators in the Dan Brown megaseller.
The articles explain the difference between numeraries (celibate members) and supernumeraries (normally married); why they joined this Catholic organisation of 86,000 worldwide dedicated to finding God in their daily work, and how, when you meet them, they are not sinister albino monks but prayerful insurance clerks of conservative temper.
You canât buy this sort of publicity. But should you ever find yourself cast as the central villains in a film based on a novel that has sold 40 million copies and is about to be one of the most widely watched films in history, you can, at least, enable it. When that novel takes as its premise the ârevelationâ that for centuries the Church has covered up the âtruthâ that Christ fathered a line of children through Mary Magdalene, and, even more astonishingly, when people actually believe this stuff. Why not step out into the spotlight and let people see you as you really are? Opus Dei calls this âturning lemon into lemonadeâ.
In New York, Opus Dei offers the media the chance to meet Silas, the murderer in The Da Vinci Code, who turns out to be a Nigerian stockbroker in Brooklyn rejoicing in the name Silas Agbim. He regularly appears on all the major networks, discussing his life and vocation as a supernumerary. âIf we agreed to all the media requests to meet the ârealâ Silas,â says Brian Finnerty of Opus Dei in New York, âheâd have to give up his job and do this full time.â
Watching Valero and his colleagues rush between TV studios, it is hard to remember that this was once the Catholic Churchâs most furtive, defensive organisation, obsessed with secrecy and taking an almost perverse pride in the mediaâs hostility. Once the whipping boy of progressive Catholics, long associated with shadowy Spanish politics and Vatican intrigues, the face of Opus Dei is now Valeroâs cheery, transparent, as open as its doors.
âItâs like living in a goldfish bowl,â he laughs. âPeople know everything about me. Thereâs nothing private about us any more,â he adds. Opus Dei has even been happy to discuss the cilice, the spiky leg-strap that its core members wear for an hour a day. The architect of what has become known as âOperation Transparencyâ is Opus Deiâs communications director, professor Juan Manuel Mora.
<b>An expert in communications at Opus Deiâs Santa Croce University, he has completely overturned the organisationâs subculture in 10 years.</b>Â It would be nice to report that Mora is a stooped, cowled, puffy-eyed octogenarian monk with nervous tics and scars from overzea-lous mortification. In fact âJuanmaâ, as everybody calls him, is, like most leading Opus Dei members, a genial middle-aged Spanish layman in a suit: passionate and charming.
âWe are not taking this lying down,â he tells me over lunch at the university. He has had no more luck than anyone else in securing a preview of the film. It is enough that the film be faithful to the novel, says Mora, to take the assault on the reputation of Opus Dei and the Catholic Church to a whole new level.
âWith the novel, it was a problem of information. We could respond with books, websites and so on, countering falsehoods with truth. But with a film, you have a problem of imagination. People will associate Opus Dei with violence, the Catholic Church with deception. We canât respond to that,â he says. When it learnt that Sony had bought the rights to the book, Opus Dei made contact with the corporation.
Polite letters were sent asking that the name of Opus Dei not be used, and pointing out that because the novel claimed to be based on historical truth, many people were likely not to be able to distinguish fact from fiction. Sony replied with vague letters giving no information about the movie but insisting they had no desire to offend anyone. Mora asked for an interview with Amy Pascal, head of Sonyâs motion pictures division, but was ignored.
Then in December, the filmâs director Ron Howard told Newsweek that the movie would closely follow the book, and implied that Opus Dei was in it. Mora swung into action.
Opus Dei would now say publicly, in a series of carefully timed open letters to Sony, what the corporation had not allowed it to put to them in private. The news this generated would generate public discussion about respect for faith and freedom of speech, and create yet more opportunities to meet the ârealâ Opus Dei, so that the public would be better able to distinguish myth from fact.
In February, against the background of the row over the cartoons of the prophet Mohammed, Opus Dei called on Sony to make changes to the film âin these days in which everyone has noted the painful consequences of intoleranceâ. By making the changes, Sony would demonstrate that freedom of expression is compatible with respect for beliefs.
In the same tone of pained regret and elaborate politeness, Opus Dei in Tokyo wrote to Sonyâs shareholders and directors in April, appealing to Japanese corporate virtue and asking for a disclaimer in the film that would make clear that it was fiction. A disclaimer, the letter said, âwould be a sign of respect towards the figure of Jesus Christ, the history of the Church, and the religious beliefs of viewersâ.
Although Sony hasnât agreed to the disclaimer, the corporation has continually stressed, unlike Brown, that it is a work of fiction. The movie is âa thriller, not a religious tractâ, according to a spokesman, Jim Kennedy. But belying that statement is a website Sony has created âto educate fansâ about theological issues raised by the film. But Opus Dei has stayed positive, patient and polite. The word âattackâ is never used. Sonyâs intentions are never presumed. There is no ping-pong counter-response to the corporationâs statements.
There is barely indignation, let alone anger, in the letters and statements; no calls for boycotts or protests or threats to sue. There is none of the arrogance and defensiveness typical of religious groups deploring offensive books or films. Contrast to this approach with the <b>speech given in Rome last week by Mgr Angelo Amato, the number two at the Vaticanâs Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. He called on Catholics to boycott the film and organise protests. If âsuch lies and errors had been directed at the Koran or the Holocaust, they would have justly provoked a world uprising,â Amato said. </b>
This is what Mora has grasped. âSony is King Kong,â he says. âI want to be cast as the blonde girl. If Iâm the policeman who fires on King Kong, then sympathy will shift from the blonde girl to the beast,â explains Mora. The brilliance of Opus Deiâs strategy is that it realises the bind that Christians in the contemporary West are in. Muslims and Jews deserve respect for their beliefs because they are minorities, while Christians, in spite of all the facts to the contrary, are seen as a hegemonic body which it is therefore legitimate to denigrate. Ironically, this prejudice has been bolstered by secularisation: the less contact people have with churches and Christians, the more inclined they are to believe damaging nonsense about them.
The novel may have its qualities as a page-turner.<b> But only that combination of credulity and prejudice in Western culture can explain why The Da Vinci Code has become the biggest-selling book after the Bible. That is why the real victim here is the Church. The Churchâs best response is to switch public sympathy to where the facts demand it be directed. It can do this only by inviting people to come in and see the truth for themselves.</b> If it tries to play the victimâs power game, sympathy will switch back from the blonde to the beast.
Opus Deiâs strategy wonât stop millions watching the film and believing it. But turning lemons into lemonade has meant, that millions more will know that it is unfair on Christians because of Brownâs claim to a basis in fact. âItâs going to be amazing,â beams Valero. âThen itâll die down, and weâll be happy to be the best-known group in the Catholic Church,â he adds.
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