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the ideological valence of Sebastian Junger’s War

I enjoyed War, Sebastian Junger’s vivid report of an American platoon in the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan during five months of regular combat. I was a little taken aback to note that the other Amazon customers who had bought War had also bought the memoirs of Dick Cheney and Herman Cain and polemics by the likes of Ann Coulter. On the other hand, some readers of Junger had bought Hadji Murad, by the pacifist Tolstoy, The Chickenhawk Syndrome: War, Sacrifice, and Personal Responsibility by the philosopher Cheney Ryan, and books about the history of Afghanistan. Probably the Amazon customer database is not the best tool for deciding where to place a book on the ideological spectrum, and it’s good to know that ideologically diverse people still share some common reading. Still, the political implications of War (the book) are interesting to think about.

Junger’s focus is tight. He is interested in a platoon of US combat industry in a particular valley in Afghanistan. Although he knows something of the country’s history and culture, he ignores it here because the American soldiers understand little of it. He has almost nothing to say about the overall purpose or strategy of the war. Other parts of the military effort in Afghanistan, such as air support and intelligence, are off stage. Junger describes individual soldiers, but none emerges as a particularly vivid character. The New York Times critic Dexter Filkins sees that as a weakness, but I thought it was a defensible choice. Junger’s thesis is the importance of the group, the bonds that make the platoon hang together even in the direst situations and that submerge individual differences.

(By the way, Filkins generally seems biased against Junger’s book. He complains that Junger digresses into the “unusual physics of fighting in the Korangal: you can see a gunshot but not have enough time to move before it hits you.” But this is true of all modern gunshots and has nothing special to do with the Korangal.)

I’m not sure that conservatives should especially like Junger’s portrait of this platoon. Its soldiers are bad at “free enterprise” and have chosen to be government employees instead. They hold counter-cultural personal values, as reflected by their troubled experiences back home and disciplinary infractions on bases. They put the group well ahead of the individual.

One aspect of the portrait that might appeal to conservatives is its celebration of masculinity. The men of Battle Company have vices as well as virtues, but their virtues are real and at least stereotypically male. They are not so much courageous as determined not to let down the group, in a particularly male way. Of course, the stakes are life and death, and their willingness to sacrifice for the group is what keeps most of them alive.

The book also hints at an idea that Junger captures with an epigraph: “We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm. — Winston Churchill (or George Orwell).” The uncertain, double attribution suggests some irony on Junger’s part, Churchill and Orwell being rather different types of people. But he at least wants us to consider the possibility that we sleep safely because of “rough” nineteen-year-olds like the ones he lived with in Korengal.

Is it true? On the one hand, I think that every society probably does need people who are willing and able to use violence on its behalf. A more rapid and deadly reaction force would have saved lives recently in peaceful Norway. On the other hand, we could clearly rely less on violence if we chose not to extend ourselves aggressively overseas. Further, even if it’s true that we sleep soundly because we have rough men on our side, we also rely on computer nerds, emergency room nurses, and logistics specialists for basic needs. (So the quote proves more than it intended.) Finally, the men themselves realize their own dispensability.  A Black Hawk helicopter costs lot of money and is a scarce resource. Combat infantry are, or at least they feel they are, “the most replaceable part of the whole deadly show.” Junger’s achievement is to show that their skills and commitment are in fact rare and valuable.

 

service and the 9/11 anniversary

According to the New York Times, the White House has instructed domestic agencies about “9/11 Anniversary Planning”:

These guidelines also acknowledge that Americans will expect government leaders to explain what steps have been taken to prevent another 9/11-style attack and to encourage Americans to volunteer in their communities this Sept. 11. [They] also ask something of Americans that has been lacking in Washington: ‘We will also draw on the spirit of unity that prevailed in the immediate aftermath of the attacks.’

I wish I could read the instructions themselves. (Googling for them produces outraged headlines on right-wing sites, like: “Obama even regulates how to commemorate the 9/11 terror attacks.” In fact, the Chief Executive gave instructions to employees who report to him within the federal government.)

Meanwhile, I’ve also been getting press questions about the relationship between 9/11 and volunteering, service, or national unity. People ask whether the original attacks increased service, whether that effect has worn off, and whether leaders took advantage of the opportunity to enhance service. These are my main thoughts:

1. Volunteering rose between 2002 and 2004 and then fell off somewhat after 2005. We don’t know much about the trends before 2002 because relevant survey questions were not asked regularly, but we do know that high school students’ volunteering rose through the 1980s and 1990s. The changes in national rates since 2002 have not been dramatic. If 9/11 had an effect, it probably wasn’t large.

source: CIRCLE

2. Volunteering is not mainly a reflection of motivation. It is more a function of opportunity, organization, and recruitment. The neighbors you see picking up trash on the local playground are not there primarily because they had an urge to serve and looked for something to do. They are there because: 1) there is a playground, 2) somebody organized a clean-up, and 3) they were asked to participate. Motivation matters at the margin, especially to get the organizers going. It is not the main factor in explaining volunteer rates.

Thus I wouldn’t expect 9/11/01 to produce a vast wave of extra volunteering by motivating people, nor would I explain the modest decline after 2005 as a result of waning enthusiasm. I suspect budget cuts hurt from 2006-10. After all, if the playground is closed, the volunteer coordinator is laid off, or the community newspaper shuts down, that will suppress volunteering rates.

3. There is, and always has been, a non sequitur in this argument: The United States was attacked by dangerous terrorists, so volunteer at your neighborhood school. The problem is not that civic engagement lacks value or relevance at a time of crisis. The problem is with the standard modes of “volunteering,” which miss the kinds of problems that 9/11 represents (national security, a destroyed section of a great city, relations with the Muslim world, civil liberties).

In a period of rampant professionalism, we assume that paid experts must address those really serious problems, while volunteers can read to kindergartners. Reading to kindergartners is good, but it has nothing to do with 9/11 except symbolically. And the meaning of the symbol troubles me. It is supposed to be about caring and unity, but to me it conveys passivity and marginalization. It’s as if the government said: “We’ll ‘explain what steps have been taken to prevent another 9/11-style attack’; you show you care by volunteering in your community.”

deep in the thickets of test design

(Cincinnati, OH) I have arrived here for meetings about standards in social studies. We have been sitting around a hollow-square table; a separate round stand holds the projector. There are damp steel water pitchers on the tables, which are covered with white linen skirts almost down to the heavily patterned carpet. In all these respects, the meeting precisely replicates the one that I left several hours ago in DC.

I was in Washington to help design the NAEP Assessment in Civics. I had also served on the design committee for the last NAEP Assessment, which was administered in 2010. Once again I am struck by the immense complexity of this effort, by the high degree of care, sophistication, and dedication of the scores of people involved–and by our tendency, in modern America, to dodge profound political or philosophical questions by trying to make our decisions look statistical or procedural rather than substantive. An elaborate system of review enlists experts, stakeholders, political appointees, civil servants, students who take pilot, and federal contractors. Most of this review is technical. But the great issues are: What should good citizens think and know? and (beneath that first one) What is true and important about our world?

I can’t really improve on my description of the NAEP process from March 2010, except to say that then, the windowless room with the hollow-square table was in Phoenix.

if we are going to put millions in prison, WE should make millions of decisions

(Washington, DC) Our jails and prisons hold 1.6 million people: the highest incarceration rate in the world. One percent of us are incarcerated at any given time, not counting almost 14 million ex-fellons. These rates are much higher for young adults and especially for young men of color. There are 1.5 million children with at least one parent in prison. When you consider that prison rape and the use of solitary confinement (which causes severe mental illness) are common, it is clear that we are sentencing many of our fellow citizens to conditions similar to torture. Not to mention that it costs us about $23,000/year to incarcerate a person in the United States.

We are doing this–choosing to do it by passing referenda and by preferring politicians who support minimum sentencing laws. According to brilliant forthcoming work by Albert Dzur, we are motivated in part by distrust for lawyers and judges, whom we see as elite and effete. Certainly, hatred for whole classes of people whom we call criminals plays a role–an emotion that is at least tinged with racism and class prejudice.

We make these decisions abstractly about nameless people and generic laws. Although 1.6 million people are incarcerated, the American people people have made many fewer than 1.6 million decisions, because most prison terms result from plea-bargaining. Distrusting lenient professionals, we impose punitive laws on top of a system that continues to function by negotiation among professionals. In turn, the lawyers and judges who negotiate plea bargains become inured to individual circumstances as they deal with one case after another.

If we are going to put our fellow citizens in prison, we should do it. They should be tried by juries of their peers who are required to listen to their stories. New to the courtroom, but guided by experienced professionals, the juror is an ideal listener.

I would endorse this proposal even if it didn’t change the incarceration rate. We simply have the responsibility to make decisions of such importance. But Dzur and others suggest that when we act as jurors, our beliefs and attitudes change. We trust the system more and make more nuanced (and often more merciful) decisions about particular cases. Thus I would expect rates of incarceration to fall if we had to put our fellow citizens in prison one at a time instead of en masse by the million.

religious service attendance

I am in DC for NAEP meetings. My post of the day is over at the CIRCLE site, where I track the rates of religious attendance for young adults and older adults. Regular attendance has declined, especially for youth, but remains fairly common. The proportion who believe in God has also declined, yet just 4.1% of young adults are what I would call atheists. More information is on the CIRCLE site, and the key graph is below.