In Benghazi or a US suburb, the gun is a devil whispering to masculine hearts. This picture is less about freedom than power.
Are the guns in this photograph weapons or toys? The young men flaunting them look like they could have been playing with plastic guns not so many years ago, but the armoury they display here on the streets of Benghazi in Libya is very real. At a moment when guns are proliferating dangerously from Sandy Hook to South Africa, here is a photograph of what men see in them.
These youths, dressed half militarily, half casually – note the baseball cap, the low jeans – are driving round streets that apart from them, look empty. Well you wouldn't want to risk a stray bullet as these heroes celebrate the second anniversary of the uprising that overthrew Muammar Gaddafi. While the khaki- and camouflage-clad pair in the foreground look more or less like some kind of trained soldier with an official role, the car behind them is manned by equally well-armed kids whose dress and behaviour – the hooded youth raises a pistol wildly – is more gangsterish than military.
Why are guns the symbol of freedom at Benghazi's revolutionary celebration? This identification of guns with political liberty is not of course unique to north Africa. Defenders of the gun in the US associate it with citizens' liberties guaranteed by the second amendment to the constitution. They ignore the fact that any such liberties are matched in that venerable document by duties. But whatever you say about it, whatever you claim it means, a gun is fundamentally a piece of power. An armed man is always superior to an unarmed man, said Machiavelli. That is the point of view of the youths in this picture. They may be penniless, hungry, unemployed – who knows – but they possess the most basic form of power: a firearm.
In civil wars and sudden acts of violence, in Syria or an American suburb, the gun itself is an actor, because carrying it is such a temptation. It is a devil whispering to masculine hearts. This picture is about masculinity as much as guns: like a gang, these guys share their knowledge of the gun (if, that is, they do know how to shoot the death sticks they hold). They are bonded by an aura of toughness and strength. The gun freed Libya and it also liberates these kings of the street. It saves them from fear and ensures them respect.
Yet they seem almost strained in their joy. The most professional looking "soldier", on the left, poses with a smile as he rests a machine gun on his shoulder. He seems the most controlled. Yet his companion shakes a rifle in the air and makes a victory sign while yelling, in a way that seems restless, dissatisfied. Is waving a gun aloft enough? Is that all there is? Meanwhile the gangster-style youth behind them seems to be manically aware of his handgun's capacity to cause mayhem. For guns are just props, unless you use them. Their thrill demands ever greater demonstrations of the power they confer. There lies the temptation. This picture shows how societies get sick, when the gun becomes a male accessory.
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