On war stories and the soldier myth

The New York Times Opinion site has been running a series lately on veterans’ perceptions of war titled Home Fires: Retelling the War.  Before that, Shannon Meehan wrote an opinion article on his combat experience and readjustment to civilian life.  While I enjoyed the candor of Meehan’s article, there were certain parts that I found overly simplistic at best and self-servingly contrived at worst, especially when compared to the much finer offerings from the Home Fires series.

Firstly, I resented the implication that Meehan spoke on behalf of all military members.  His language frequently insinuates that his feelings and attitudes are representative of the feelings of all of us in the military.  For example,

Killing enemy combatants comes with its own emotional costs. On the surface, we feel as soldiers that killing the enemy should not affect us — it is our job, after all.

Throughout his article, Meehan shifts subtly between “I,” “you,” and “we.”  In my most cynical interpretation, I imagine Meehan would like to appoint himself the warfighter representative in order to help his book sales.  His 2009 book Beyond Duty recounts his actions and attempts to reconcile his experiences in Iraq.  I have not read it, but I should say that it is highly reviewed by other authors that I admire.  In truth, I think Meehan’s motives are pure.  But compare his language to that found in Roman Skaskiw’s article Narrative and Memory at War:

…the problem with war narratives isn’t lying. The problem is there’s too much truth. Everything you’ve ever heard or suspected about armed conflict is likely true. The enterprise is so vast that writers, myself included, can choose whichever truths support a particular thesis.  So yes. We struggle. We struggle famously, and probably more so as our wars approach the decade mark.

But who will tell the story of those who don’t struggle to adjust? Is there space in our consciousness for those who enjoy themselves? For those who choose to return to do similar work as contractors for a salary three times as high? Those who return because they didn’t get enough action? Who will admit that many of us are capable of facing combat? I never met anyone emerging from an intense firefight who wanted to go back, but those who folded under the pressure were the exception, not the rule. Who will admit that some of us even revel in it? And if such statements are made, who will listen?

I much prefer Skaskiw’s depiction of the diversity of combatants’ attitudes.  (In fact, it’s similar to something my good friend Nick once told me about assuming a representative experience of life in India, but you’ll just have to wait for Nick to start a blog to hear that one).  And I’m more receptive to his message when I know he’s telling me his story, rather than telling me what everyone else’s story should be (a point that Skaskiw makes much more eloquently in his entire article).

Secondly, Meehan closes with:

Soldiers bring the ghosts home with them, and it’s everyone else’s job to hear about them, no matter how painful it may be.

Again it’s easy to imagine that Meehan has concocted this newfound civic responsibility because it will help his book sales.  And yet again, I don’t think that’s correct but the truth is even scarier: he really believes it.  Let me start with my initial reaction to Meehan’s closing line (with the caveat that I’ve had a chance to cool off a bit):

1. Sorry Capt Meehan, but I am under absolutely no obligation to hear your war story or anyone else’s for that matter.  Your suffering is not more special or more deserving of consolation than civilian suffering.  Nobody says that it’s “our job” to hear the stories of rape victims or abused children, but it’s somehow incontrovertible that it’s “our job” to hear your story.  Yes, you should be cared for before, during, and after your service.  So should everyone else.  And I have no problem with my tax dollars going to fund your treatment.  If I know you personally, I will invest my time into hearing of your experiences and helping you recover.  But beyond that, I have no more obligation to hear your story and help you heal than I do to the untold numbers of other trauma victims.  Meehan is not invoking a national call to psychological service here, he’s advocating an unconditional support structure for military mental health.
2. And because this support is unconditional and accorded a special privilege above the plane of normal dialogue, it becomes much harder to combat when it supports the war or supports the military recruiting machine.  It provides protection to the myth that the military is uniquely qualified to foster good character or service ethic.  Challenging the soldier myth becomes conflated with obstructing veteran rehabilitation.  As Skaskiw puts it:

Although it puts me and many of my personal friends in a flattering light, I fear the narrative of the reluctant, well-intentioned soldier because, along with similar reverence for all things military, it seems a requisite for endless war. The misguided motives of empire hide behind the sympathetic portrayal of its servants. I also know, as we all probably do but hesitate to admit, that many of us servants were far from reluctant.

I’ve thought about it a bit more since my initial reaction and I applaud both Meehan and Skaskiw and the other Home Fires contributors for telling their story.  It is brave to confront your war trauma and even braver to do so publicly.  I don’t wish to silence anyone who wants to talk about their experiences.  More dialogue is almost always better.  And the psychological toll of any experience shouldn’t be swpet under the rug, especially not when that toll is taxpayer funded.  But I do have reservations about the simplicity with which we treat our war stories.  There is a fuzzy line between the glorification of war and the psychological repatriation of the warfighter.  As Skaskiw closes, “wars, like everything else, are replaced by the telling of them.”

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