Every Breath You Take: Stalking Narratives and the Law

Maintenance of Cultural Myths: The Case of Stalking
Every Breath You Take: Stalking Narratives and the Law. Orit Kamir, Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 2000.

I believe in vampires. There is no empirical data which I can use to prove their existence, but proof is unnecessary: what is important is that I believe. But how is it that an otherwise rational person harbors such a superstition? Those who snicker may ask why they are afraid of the dark, or sense icy digits brushing their necks when alone. Orit Kamir in Every Breath You Take, points to collective culture as the villain in such manifestations of the unconscious. Her subject is those who stalk, in a work which "... does not aim to define human categories or defeciences, but merely to better understand the social phenomenon as it is conceived"(2).
What is fascinating is the method she adopts to expose the phenomenon of stalking. Drawing from Sumerian and Hebrew myth, nineteenth-century English literature, and a century of film, Kamir works in a linear fashion and effectively demonstrates the cyclical and repetitive nature of the themes and motifs of stalking. She concludes, in a somewhat hasty manner, with a critique of the current California anti-stalking law, maintaining that what has occurred is a fusion of image with law.
Collective culture, states Kamir, creates and sustains the myths and dreams which, "like ghosts ... haunt our lives and alter our behaviour"(3). And although social behaviour is malleable, those shifting winds are drawn into a vortex by periods of moral panic: a public pre-occupation with a social phenomenon that is irrationally perceived as extremely threatening. These periods are unstable and impulsive, and prone to misconceptions, so that today "[by] addressing mythological images rather than social reality, the legislature did not adequately conceptualize the prohibited behaviour, and the `panicky' drafting rendered an imperfect law"(175). This is Kamir's conclusion, and the answer to her unstated question: how do our cultural constructs work upon us? What she reveals is the considerable gap between a fear of stalking constructed in the media and the reality of stalking such that the modern legal response is lacking in many respects.
With the fear of stalking comes the elements of social control derived from myth to validate oppression. So when Kamir discusses female then male stalking, there are striking contrasts. Kamir's central female subject is Lilit - counterpoint to Eve - who "subverts patriarchal sexual norms"(41) is feared and hated, yet secretly desired as she is both sexually independent and dangerous. By characterizing female stalking as dangerous, Lilit's independence, like the "witches" of Europe, is a rallying point, "which society and patriarchy could, and can, bank on when necessary to establish solidarity among men"(42). Apparently, what frustrates and elicits this reaction is the fact that Lilit never lets men control and objectify her - the hallmarks of male stalking.
Kamir asserts that male stalking is nourished to service the social order while female stalking is used both in dangerous times of social instability. In this light, male stalking or the unseen eye (appropriated from Lilit) is operating at all times and therefore in constant need of justification. Accordingly, most stalking narratives are structured by a patriarchal framework: first there is the strond, sexually initiating women who stalks a man (both Lilit and Alex in Fatal Attraction); second, a "Jack the Ripper" type serial killer who stalks a sexual, evil women whose moral vacancy invites punishment; and third, a monstrous male (Frankenstein, Dracula) stalks a weak, domestic Eve who is saved only if she is revealed to be a Virgin Mary type character. Themes in hand, men can remain wary of Lilit, destroying her mortal counterparts for moral failings, or reward chastity by driving of the beast. Yet though our cultural discourse is replete with these themes, in general, they have very little bearing on the type of stalking that occurs today.
Perhaps that is an inaccurate statement. When Kamir outlines the shortcomings of the current legislation in California, the prejudices mentioned above are readily apparent. To begin, there is the requirement that a threat be made against the complainant intended to place the target in "reasonable" fear of death or great bodily harm. This definition does not capture the type of stalking practiced by Ted Bundy or Allan Dershowitz who did not threaten, merely watched, or chose their victims without announcing their presence. Further, the adoption of an objective standard (the mythical "reasonable person") leads Kamir to state that once the prohibited behaviour is exhibited, "the victim's subjective feelings should make no difference and there seems to be no rational need to inspect them"(188). Presumably women can not sense danger in repeated, persistent attempts by men to invade their personal space; or may not realize that this behaviour may be permissible as part of the biological imperative. To solidify her criticism, and as a wonderful device to unite the work, Kamir quotes Nancy Ehreneich's determination that the "reasonable person" is a device for "importing a pre-existing societal consensus into the law"(191). Confusion and duplication in the current legal response to stalking thus reflects deeply imbedded cultural myths that women should be vulnerable to the male gaze, and should anticipate their fates as the logical conclusion of their promiscuous and non-male sanctioned behaviour.
Dislodging the dictates of the unconscious can not occur without an understanding how those images were formed - layer upon layer of myth and speculation - an Kamir is convincing in her treatment of stalking while pointing out that a critical analysis free from moral panic is crucial. But it will be an uphill battle, and while my crucifix reposes at home, I do occasionally carry garlic.

Cameron Gleadow