American Sniper is a very good movie. Go see it. That being said, I do have some deeper thoughts that I’d like to expand upon here.
Chris Kyle was the most deadly sniper in U.S. history, with 160 credited kills. That in itself is a great accomplishment amongst a people as hardy and aggressive as the people of these United States. Benjamin Franklin remarked on the fact that Americans were more violent than the British as one of the reasons that compelled us to separation. But no matter how vicious, strong, and capable we can be as warriors, inside we are still human beings, prone to weakness and doubt.
American Sniper, directed by the brilliant Clint Eastwood, does justice to a key tale in America’s recent bloodstained history in the Middle East. Bradley Cooper‘s earnest portrayal of Kyle is a marvelous reproduction of the Navy Seal who served four tours and was exposed to brutal combat and death. Cooper’s gritty performance evoked a strong emotional reaction from myself and my fellow theatre goers in the packed house this weekend. Sienna Miller is a terrific casting as Kyle’s wife Taya. From a pure directorial and acting perspective, the film is nearly perfect, with one glaring flaw coming from a scene where an obviously fake baby is presented to the audience as real.
The film chronicles the span of Kyle’s career, flowing seamlessly from his personal life and four combat tours. In this movie, you are exposed to the psychological trauma that he endured from being forced to kill children and women in order to protect his fellow soldiers. It forces the audience to confront the problems that arise in the real world, where aggression is not limited to some imaginary combat between equals. It makes us come to terms with the fact that not all conflicts are the simple two-dimensional “good guy v. bad guy” scenarios we like to come up with in our head.
It’s difficult to imagine yourself in a situation where you might be required to kill someone for the greater good. Most ethical scenarios where this might occur often have extenuating factors which can change the moral playing field dramatically. Ignore for a moment,whether you are of the opinion that the invasion of Iraq was right or wrong. From a purely morally neutral, non-nationalist or ideological standpoint, what would you do if a child ran at you or your friends carrying a grenade and you had the power to stop them?
The answer to that question may define one’s own personal character, but it doesn’t define our nation, and perhaps it shouldn’t.
The American tradition is one of aggressive militarism, coupled with Quakerish pacifism. Our differences of opinions on things such as the death penalty, abortion, war and the laws of war, are as diverse as our ethnic makeup. And perhaps that’s as it should be. Perhaps our checks and balances on one another are what keep us from radicalizing? Our diversity of opinion on these matters puts us in strong contrast to a more homogeneous people of a more singular mind.
In the film, Kyle’s relationship with his father carries on to his own son their ethical familial tradition of a belief in self defense, brotherhood, and guardianship. Kyle is seen as a boy being taught by his father about the rules of aggression, warning him never to become a wolf, an aggressor and bully. He’s to be a sheepdog to the flock, and to guard them from the wolves.
Sadly, this is the one theme that may be the most difficult for Americans to internalize. Many of us are wolves, who believe themselves to be sheepdogs. Many of us are wolves, who pretend to be sheepdogs. Many of the latter are the type to be able to order sheepdogs such as Kyle into battle, for ends whose connections to public guardianship are ambiguous. Although Kyle’s personal unwavering desire to defend American lives and property was clear, very few of the modern conflicts he was involved in had such transparently positive intentions. How can we be sure that our soldiers are giving their lives for a higher purpose? What do we have to benefit from Kyle’s sacrifice? These are questions we must ask of our leaders.
Eastwood’s film ends tastefully by not displaying the murder of Kyle. His eventual doom never felt impending, as it is something of a strange tradition for American heroes to meet death in ways unfitting their historical impact. No one believed that JFK could have been killed by such a sad, lonely psychopath such as Lee Harvey Oswald. Or, that General Patton, old “Blood and Guts” himself would die after something as unremarkable as an automobile crash. Kyle’s death almost feels meaningless, a promise unfulfilled. It does feel appropriate however, in the greater sense, as it shows that even storied men are mortal.
I don’t know what will solve the conflicts in the Middle East. I don’t believe we can ever be fully safe from those who would use violence to harm us. I don’t know if spilling American blood in the desert is helping or hurting our flock. I do know, that given a life lived in Chris Kyle’s shoes, I can’t say I would have done much differently.
His war is our war, whether we like it or not.
The theatre was dead silent as everyone walked out. I’m glad we are thinking about the problems we have to face as a nation. We have to be careful when we fight monsters that we do not become monsters ourselves, but that’s not the lesson of this film. It’s the same as every other war movie. War is hell, and the soldiers pay the price for the failure of diplomacy, and the willingness of would-be theocrats to die for a desert god who no one has seen for a thousand years.
If we wish to bring back the troops, and have a more peaceful society, let’s discuss ways we can lift people such as Kyle of their burdens, instead of adding to them. Let’s talk about how we can ethically engage with those would-be theocrats, who would sadly give their lives for a strange religion, alien to the American experience. And if they cannot be reasoned with, and if we cannot convince our policymakers to stop exacerbating conflicts which cause more chaos than they solve problems, then more private citizens must learn the way of the sword.
More of us must learn and study, and train… to become sheepdogs.
[about_austin]
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