The Culture Wars - American Sniper

The Culture Wars – American Sniper

I haven’t seen American Sniper, nor have I read the book.  I haven’t yet decided whether I shall do either. But I have read a lot of interesting articles and comments from both the right and the left.  American Sniper seems to have become a symbol of the tremendous chasm in American society.  Clint Eastwood and Bradley Cooper have tried to de-emphasize the film’s political aspect, protesting that it was only ever meant to be a study of a single man’s experience in war.  But in a nation that seizes upon every cultural event to express its outraged disgust with the other side, American Sniper was tailor made to be the newest front in the culture wars.

From the right’s perspective, Chris Kyle was the type of warrior that made America great; the type that we especially depend on in this time of terrorism and threats from multiple extremist groups.  His loyalty to his country and his comrades, and his willingness to sacrifice his life if necessary, is the noblest expression of the American spirit.  His simple religious faith provided the strength and courage that he needed to see him through the extraordinary challenges he faced.

From the left’s perspective, Christ Kyle was a remorseless killer in a war that never should have been waged; a bigot who speaks disparagingly of a people he only saw through a lens of hatred and propaganda; an egotist who was so full of himself that he invented heroic events to embellish his reputation.

So who was the real Chris Kyle, and what does American Sniper tell us about ourselves and our country?

The uncomfortable truth is that Chris Kyle was probably all of those things – a human being with the myriad contradictions, and good and bad qualities that we all possess.  He was both a hero and a fraud, a noble warrior and a cold-blooded killer.

Any of us could have been Chris Kyle’s friend, and we would probably have loved him.  We would have been in awe of his accomplishments, but possibly also a bit cynical about his motives and some of his outlandish claims.  We would know that if the chips were down, Chris Kyle would be the guy we would want backing us up.  But we would also not want Chris Kyle to be making decisions about foreign policy or helping us understand a complex world and how to deal with it.

Chris Kyle was a warrior, and apparently about as good a warrior as one can be.  We put him in Iraq and gave him a mission that he executed with incredible success and skill.  To revile Chris Kyle is to make the same mistake we made with soldiers returning from Vietnam – to blame the soldier for a war that may have been a huge mistake, but was certainly not his mistake.

But Chris Kyle was only a warrior.  He was not a saint or a prophet or a symbol of what we want Americans to be.  We will always need Chris Kyles, because there will always be wars and terrorists and dangerous threats to our country and ourselves.  And perhaps we will always need to celebrate their accomplishments - even though it is a celebration of death and tragedy - to ensure that we give them the psychological support necessary to deal with the horror of war and to thank them for their sacrifice.

There is anger and the potential for violence in all of us, even the most ardent pacifist. The rage provoked by the smallest slight on our highways is strong evidence that human beings will never live totally at peace with one another.  This anger in our psyche seems to find expression in a fascination for violence, whether in war or crime or horror, and we flock to the theaters or settle ourselves in our TV rooms to indulge our insatiable appetites.

Men are particularly enchanted with the special ops mythos.  The challenge of overcoming incredible physical and mental obstacles is seductive to us, probably reflecting primitive instincts and genetic pre-dispositions.  Most men also ponder the question of how they would fare in combat – whether they would find courage and perform heroically or be gripped by paralyzing fear.  Movies like American Sniper allow us to fantasize with no danger or consequences. 

We cannot in good conscience blame the Clint Eastwoods or the Bradley Coopers of the world for exploiting our love of good violence and our Walter Mitty-like fantasies, even if their specific rendering may offend our political views.  Was it helpful for world peace to have a movie that more or less glorifies the clinical killing of numerous simplistically portrayed Muslims, even if the producers were probing a more subtle issue?  Probably not.  But then we are right back into the culture wars again . . . .