Recently, I read a blog on war, propaganda and the media, that challenges the various ways in which war is misrepresented by both literary texts and films. One of the problematic representations highlighted in the blog was “dualism,” defined as “reducing the number of parties in a conflict into two when often, more are involved.” The other terms that caught my attention were “Manicheanism” (portraying one side as good and the other as evil) and “Armageddon” (presenting violence as inevitable and omitting other alternatives.) Reading through the blog, I kept thinking of the film “American Sniper” and how it challenges the common “dualistic”  frames through which we often view war, and it does this mainly by blurring the lines between “good” and “evil.”

“American Sniper” relays the life of an American soldier, Chris, who volunteers to join the army after the bombing of the U.S embassies in Kenya and Tanzania by the Al Qaeda. After the 9/11 attacks, he is deployed to Iraq on four different tours where he is commended for recording the highest number of confirmed kills as a sniper, and he is referred to as the legend. Although the film does depict Chris as a hero, as is conventionally the case with most veterans, it reveals the various emotions that he goes through during the war and depicts the plight of the Iraqis in the war front, an important yet uncommon portrayal in media discourse. By showing his hesitation to kill, and showing the killing of innocent people in the course of “seeking justice” the film provokes us to think of our “frames of recognizability,” a concept that Judith  Butler explores in her book “Frames of War.” Butler outlines the ways in which the representation of war and violence by the media conditions our recognition of which lives we consider “grievable.” The film, in light of this, subtly expands our frames of recognizability by disclosing the “vulnerability” of both the U.S soldiers and the Iraqis.

Having established the binary way in which the media represents war, (in this case the Iraq war,) by generally portraying the U.S as “good” and the Iraqis as “evil,” we are automatically conditioned to mourn the lives of U.S veterans lost in the war while unconsciously dismissing the lives of the Iraqi’s who died defending themselves. The film compels our responsiveness to the Iraqis by portraying them as individual human beings with emotion instead of a generalized “evil.”  At the beginning of the film, on the first tour, the soldiers are in a deserted town and Chris is surveying the town radius.  He catches sight of an Iraqi child with a woman who hands a hand grenade to the child, and the child quickly advances towards the U.S marine troops with the intention of bombing them. Chris is forced to kill the child and in the moments before he pulls the trigger, we can see his hesitation and those few seconds of anticipation appeal to the emotion of the viewer. “He is just a child,” is the phrase that probably echoes in most of the viewers’ minds. We, as viewers, end up mourning the loss of the Iraqi child’s life, and in this way, our recognizability is enhanced by seeing the vulnerability of the “other side” of the war, contrary to what popular media shows when portraying narratives of war.

This dualism is further depicted in a later scene when Chris is made Chief of one of the troops. After briefing his team, Chris is left alone with Marc Lee who is also a marine.  Marc subtly raises his disagreement with what they were fighting for and confronts Chris about it. When Chris asks if he wants to “sit this one out”  Marc’s response shows that he doesn’t believe what he is fighting for or against anymore:

Chris: You need to sit this one out?

Marc: I just wanna believe in what we’re doing–

Chris: Evil lives here, we’ve seen it.

Marc: It lives everywhere–

This scene invites us to think of what Butler calls “interpretation;” identifying people in the simple dichotomies of “we” and “them” which determines whose lives we think we are responsible for and which “relies on the apprehension of ready-made similitudes.”  Although Marc is convinced that the “evil” they are fighting in Iraq is no more than any “evil” elsewhere, he still goes to fight since he has been pre-conditioned to think of Iraqi’s as evil and he does not feel responsible for them. “American Sniper” thus, in these simple words, challenges the whole idea of the Iraq war.

The film, by enhancing our responsiveness to the lives that we normally don’t consider grievable and by depicting the vulnerability of both the “good” and the “evil” sides, brings to question the idea of “Armageddon,” and the necessity of war. This could help us, as Butler theorizes, to rethink “global responsibility” in terms of whose lives we think are worthy of our protection, an idea that she predicts could help prevent arbitrary violence globally. The film depicts that by changing the narrative of war commonly shown by the media to encompass all sides of the war instead of the “evil” and the “good” side, we can recognize our “vulnerability” to each other and focus on making agreements to enhance peace rather than instigating war, as Butler contends.

“So beautiful!” was the first thought that came to mind on viewing the items displayed at MOA’s O’Brian Gallery. The bowls, the feathers, the baskets and a couple other items that I hadn’t seen before all had diligently done designs on them, and watching an intricate Anaconda pattern on some bowls, all I saw was commitment and dedication; a way of life. In those thin elaborate lines on the calabashes was a story being told, a story of the relationship between the Amazon Rainforest and the Indigenous people that live within.

The more than 385 indigenous peoples identified in the Amazon rely on this forest for their culture and nourishment, as they have for a long time. The feathers and the various beautiful birds displayed at the exhibit show the treasures and the aesthetic value that can be found in the forest.The captivating indigenous chant that came from somewhere in the background highlighted the beauty of it all and the harmony between the people and nature.

Pinned on the walls, however, were charts with staggering details.  The Amazon Rainforest from whence came such beauty is at risk of human destruction in the name of development. Mining, construction of roads, logging, oil exploration and drilling all pose a threat to this natural habitat. According to one of the charts, humans have been living in the Amazon for over 11,200 years and suddenly, this peaceful coexistence of humans and nature is being disrupted by development which highly focuses on profit and does little to ensure sustainable extractions of resources.

On these charts as well were policies adopted by various nations in the Amazon to preserve natural parts and indigenous lands of the Amazon. In addition to protecting the existence of native peoples and communities, the state of Peru, for instance, promises that “exploitation by the State of the natural resources shall be carried out without harming the integrity of such habitats.” And yet in the same nation, 84% of the Amazon surface is area is dedicated to oil production.This pattern can be observed in all the other nations in the Amazon and overall, 19% of indigenous territories and 15% of “protected” natural areas are covered with mining concessions. The Political-Scientist in me stirs at this; the lack of strategies to implement these policies in order to protect nature and the people that rely on it, especially in a seemingly borderless situation such as this.

Destruction of this forest means doing away with cultures and the way of life of the many people that rely on it. Such artifacts as were exhibited at the museum would become a song of the past and beautiful animals that rely on the trees for shelters would be homeless in a few decades if mass deforestation goes on at the current rate. Development should be focused on ensuring maximization of the use of natural resources but at the same time keeping in mind that their sources should be protected. I would call such adverse effects on a culture an “unintended cultural prejudice.”

Do we still call it “development” if it has such negative consequences on a people?

During the very first weeks of attending the ASTU class, we discussed the differences and similarities between memoirs and historical writings. We also discussed the interrelation between the two and how memory can be used as an artefact, or as a contribution to historical facts. In my sociology class, we learnt the difference between public issues, private issues, and the connection between the two, commonly referred to as sociological imagination. The two topics in the two different classes, however, share a central discussion point; how do personal biographies (private issues) and memory relate and contribute to a recount of a historical event?

This question was answered a few days later when we had a joint lecture as the Global Citizens Stream and watched a documentary titled ‘A Degree of Justice’ which recounts an event in the Canadian History. On the 8th of December 1941, in what is referred to as the Japanese Canadian Internment, Japanese Canadians from the British Columbia Coast were forcefully removed from their homes and moved to internment camps, and this relocation not only shook the foundations of their families but also their education and personal lives.

As the victims of this Internment recount their experiences in this documentary, it is clear that the results of this occurrence are trauma, desolation, sadness and loss. Would a recount of the same event, in historical terms and facts be as impactful? Clearly not. It would give us a general idea of what happened, explain it in figures and facts, but it would not give us such an intimate window into the past.

Although these personal memories are given in the individual’s perspective (what we commonly refer to as bias) and are subject to the person’s memory abilities, it would be a great way to supplement historical data. Connecting the victim’s view of the event with the general idea gives a more concrete recount of the experience.

As I watched each of the victims narrate their own story, I felt greater empathy and more understanding than I did when I later did read the historical account on Wikipedia. However, not everyone has access to this documentary, and most just know what is written. It would be a great idea, therefore, for the written history to be connected with the personal narrations, (as a package) to give the audience a deeper understanding that can’t be reached by either, singly.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_Canadian_internment