After hearing all of the
talk regarding American Sniper (a movie I have not seen, but a book I have
indeed read) I can’t help but think about how America loves her storybook endings.
Much talk has been given
that the movie glorifies war and that Kyle is nothing more than a “hate filled killer”.
Others bring up rightful issues with how movies portray the non-special
forces/warfare service-members in movies
as either being inept, or barely there when in fact they make up the bulk of
our fighting forces and always have. But the most I’ve been able to gather has
been in comments from individuals; sometimes in person, sometimes on social
media and other various platforms. And while the individuals range in age, sex,
background, education and a variety of other aspects one thing remains
constant: the Hollywood Life Fantasy.
That we as a nation love our
scripted storylines isn’t something new or groundbreaking. From the little girl
(or boy) who wishes for that feet-sweeping love experience to the disaffected
middle-aged office drone who spends their lunch breaks fantasizing about
reenacting the most pivotal scene in cinema we love it
all. So what else do we love? We “love our troops.” Yes, the quotes are there
for a reason.
We love John Phillip Sousa
send offs for the rosy-cheeked young lads marching off to defend our freedom,
and the only thing we love more than that is the Norman Rockwell homecoming of
that same cheerful boy, now a little older and wizened, but still red-cheeked
and carefree. What don’t we like? The middle and the end, naturally. (For the
current conflicts replace those two cultural icons with Toby Keith and, I
dunno, Instagram?)
For the 99% of the nation
who has never served in the Armed Forces and the 96% who has never had a close
friend, family member, or loved one who served, the scenes of war can only be
comfortably approached in a small number of ways. They can either be big budget
productions filled with Tom Hanks killing Nazis off-screen in a conflict that
took place almost half a century ago, or they can be washed out, unrealisticand half-assed looks at a current conflict where any legitimate scenes of war
are flashed by quickly, like a band-aid being pulled off of a child and then
everyone has to weep about how horrible it all is. Not to say that war isn’t horrible. It is, except when it
isn’t, of course.
Somehow, in the course of
two wars that have seen unprecedented media coverage; reporters filming live
firefights, in-depth interviews with the average grunt on the ground, outspoken
combat vets sharing their stories, and even interviews with enemy fighters the
only thing that has increased in the era of the 24-hour news cycle have been
sales of yellow ribbon magnets (don’t want to bother the paint on the minivan
with a sticker, ya’ know), and Call of Duty episodes that have multiplied like some
sort of first-person-herpes. Dibs
on First-Person-Herpes as an indie-rock band name.
So what’s my point? My point
is that to the average American seeing the reality of war, and not just the
kind they think they know about from CNN and the Hurt Locker, is almost
instantly offensive. And that offense seems to occur whether you’re a rabid Fox
News watching war hawk, downing Bud Lite and screaming racial epithets while
watching Blackhawk Down. Or a filthy MSNBC loving, Code Pink hippie, splashing
bong water and patchouli oil on yourself before the Rachel Maddow Show comes
on. And impressively, both groups
are offended for pretty much the same reasons. Although you’ll never get them
to admit it.
War is primal. Killing is
something we likely figured out around the same time as fucking all those
millennia ago and both activities have seen innovative technical leaps and
bounds in that time (don’t believe me? Just go to amazon.com and search "55-gallon
lube.” It’s truly a great time to be alive). But despite transitioning from the
rock we used to bash Ork’s skull in to the thermonuclear ICBM we used to
incinerate Ivan’s skull,
killing has remained a personal and primal thing. And just like your
gas-powered 480hp vibrator, its not something to discuss in polite company. And war is anything if polite.
America likes the products
of wars. Be it hippie or redneck, both groups love the national ideals,
freedoms, safety, economic prosperity, technological advances, and other things
that war has brought them. Even if
they won’t admit it. But just like I would prefer to not see how my steak is
butchered before it’s brought out to me, most people absolutely do not want to
know the details of went into bringing them the way of life they know. Why?
Because it reminds them of just how primal we are. Because it reminds them that
while they sipped latte’s and drove to work at the factory, and sat in class,
and slept in their beds at night, their peers were out performing that
offensive, distasteful, and terrifying work they don’t want to think about. Because then they might have to make an
uncomfortable assessment of the
true cost of their way of life. And because when you imagine that patriotic
young lad returning home from war with a seabag over one shoulder and his
barracks cover cocked to the side you don’t want to imagine him slitting the
throats of enemy soldiers in hand-to-hand combat in some sweltering shithole
before taking cover from incoming mortars and then trying to decide what to put
on his ration crackers before catching some shuteye. I’ll give you some insider
knowledge: go with the jalapeno cheese spread.
Americans want their stoic
warriors who can sometimes cry over the loss of their comrades, but not the
same ones who ruck up, reload their mags and bring unholy American death upon
those that they’re fighting. Unless it’s been heavily edited to the point of a
Disney movie death scene. And they sure as hell don’t want to be confronted
with the knowledge that the average fighting man or woman might not feel bad
about their kills. Because if that twenty-something soldier, sailor, Marine,
airman, or hell, even Navy SEAL you went to high school with doesn’t feel bad
about killing the enemy that tried to kill them. And he or she is supposed to
represent the best of our nation, then how far removed from it are you? And if
they’re more like you than you thought then it stands to reason that they’re
considerably less like the Saving Private Ryan’s, Green Zone’s, and M*A*S*H’s
you’ve been lead to believe.
People hate when their set
ideas are challenged.
Service-members exist as one-dimensional sound bites who can be either
loved or pitied, but almost never hated.
Our enemies too are one-dimensional characters who do “evil” and most
certainly enjoy it. After all, they’re foreign psychopaths who talk funny and
dress weird. So when confronted
with a reality that makes our poster boy and girl military members seem both
human, relatable, and have characteristics we only want to ascribe the “enemy”
what happens? Remember, the enemy kills because they enjoy it, and we only kill
because we have too, and at no time are we supposed to celebrate our victory
over someone who wanted us dead, even if psychologically and realistically, it’s
a perfectly natural thing to do. Hell, we aren’t even supposed to hate out
enemy, not really. I’ve heard more than my fair share of freshman Intro to
Psychology graduates prattle on about how “You must have to dehumanize your
enemy to mentally protect yourself and blah, blah, blah, I watch too much Dr.
Phil.” Of course I’m being a little hyperbolic. Those types would NEVER say
they watch too much Dr. Phil.
So what’s the result?
Snooty articles on The
Guardian and bitchy Facebook comments apparently, made by armchair generals, Dr.
Phil stalkers, and the “morally superior” who hate that they’re being made to
see a reality that they’re supposed to be carefully insulated from.
If you didn’t understand, or
were offended by American Sniper, then this movie isn’t for you. It’s for those
that fought, those that sacrificed, and those that understand the saying by
Richard Grenier; “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men
stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” The book, and the movie is written
by and for those rough men and women. And while you can and should hold your
personal opinions, you should, at the same time, be honored to catch a glimpse
of what it looks like to sacrifice for the greater good.
Now
drink up and go celebrate.
