Who Is the Soldier?: Documenting American “Grunts” from D Ispatches T O R Estrepo
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1 “Occupying War: US Militarism and Representing War since 1989” Who Is the Soldier?: Documenting American “Grunts” from Dispatches to Restrepo Abstract: This chapter compares the ways Michael Herr in Dispatches (1977) and Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger in Restrepo (2010) represent American soldiers in the context of military professionalization following the establishment of the AVF. These works are seminal landmarks of the grunt’s-eye view genre, but they produce the average soldier’s subjectivity and identity very differently and, in turn, foster different relationships between their American audiences and this figure. Herr, I argue, represents the “grunts” of Vietnam as we all while Restrepo’s directors portray the Army platoon in Afghanistan as a collective who?. I show how the subtle aesthetic changes to documenting the average infantryman reflects and enforces the logics of professionalization as well as the intensifying distance between the American public and those who fight America’s wars. Keywords: Grunt’s-eye view, documentary, New Journalism, aesthetics, liminality, soldier figure, US military, professionalization, persistent warfare. Introduction “I got it. I got it, man. I’m the narrator!” says Juan “Doc” Restrepo before introducing his fellow soldiers. The bright-eyed recruit picks up a hand-held camera and aims it at the guys sitting around him—“O’Brizzel,” “Peebes,” and “Kim”—whose tee-shirts and stubble make them indistinguishable from civilian twenty-somethings. The grainy and unsteady footage matched by the guys’ ensuing inside jokes and goofy faces cause the opening scene of Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington’s documentary Restrepo (2010) to resemble a home movie, a record meant solely to incite laughter and nostalgia in its subjects. And this footage which bookends the film—footage of a seemingly private yet mundane moment among buddies “loving life and getting ready to go to war,” as Restrepo narrates—embodies one of the documentary’s underlying tensions: Who is the narrator? Whose story does Restrepo tell? Is it the collective story of the platoon stationed in Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley in 2007, told “through the eyes of the soldiers themselves,” as the film’s directors contend?1 Restrepo’s formal conventions foster the illusion that the film is a neutral and direct channel between the soldiers and viewers, a seeming antidote to the ways popular war reportage, according to Judith Butler and other critics, has distanced America’s contemporary wars from the public and made 1 Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger, “Story,” Restrepo, 2009, http://restrepothemovie.com/story/. Cawley | 2 them increasingly difficult for civilians to apprehend.2 But a closer examination of Restrepo reveals that the film has more in common with this trend than the intimate identification implied by the directors’ claim “their lives were our lives.”3 One example of Restrepo’s alternative perspective surfaces early in the film. Captain Dan Kearney speaks to a group of local Afghan men as part of the platoon’s strategy to sustain the security of a local road project. While Kearny explains, if you cooperate “we can ... make you guys richer, make you more powerful,” the camera zooms in on the worn hands of one Afghan elder, patiently struggling to insert a straw into a Capri Sun juice pouch. This shot set against what could be Kearney’s pitch to a boardroom of investors presents a profound disconnect between the soldiers’ perceptions, training, and attitudes and the reality of the war. Crucially, viewers are made privy to this dissonance, placing us in a privileged seat of judgment. Viewers do not look with Captain Dan Kearney, we look at him— a defining feature of the film. We are constantly invited to view the men of the Army’s 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team with pity, confusion, adulation, and horror. In what follows, I explicate this ambivalent portrait of today’s soldiers as part of a larger story of how the representation of American combat soldiers has changed since the Vietnam War. War narratives that do not center on soldiers are rare. However, who the soldier is and how this figure is culturally imagined continually changes, serving as, according to Alain Badiou, an exceptional barometer of our political climate. Badiou acknowledges that we are “after the point of the aristocratic warrior, and after the period of the democratic soldier,” but he never identifies the poetic container of contemporary society’s “obscure slaughter.”4 I want to suggest that beginning in the Vietnam War, “the average infantryman—or ‘grunt’, as [they] were impolitely called—in Vietnam” has been this container, and studying his cultural evolution throws into relief how military professionalization and the logic of liminality facilitate warfare in the “era of persistent conflict.”5 To trace the differences between the average infantryman of Vietnam and that of America’s post-Cold War campaigns, I compare Hetherington and Junger’s Oscar-nominated documentary and 2 For more on contemporary war reportage and the public see Judith Butler, Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable? (London and Brooklyn: Verso, 2009); W.J.T. Mitchell, Cloning Terror: The War Images, 9/11 to the Present (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011); Jeff Lewis, Language Wars: The Role of Media and Culture in Global Terror and Political Violence (London: Pluto Press, 2005). 3 Hetherington, “Story.” 4 Alain Badiou, “The Contemporary Figure of the Soldier in Politics and Poetry,” UCLA, Jan. 2007, http://www.lacan.com/badsold.htm/. 5 Usage of grunt reported in “Grunt, n. 2.b.” OED Online, June 2017, Oxford University Press, http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/82037?rskey=iSd4xF&result=1 (accessed Sept. 13, 2017); The popular designation “era of persistent conflict” was coined by General George W. Casey. See George W. Casey, “Persistent Conflict: The New Strategic Environment,” address given to the Los Angeles World Affairs Council, 27 Sept. 2007, and "America's Army in an Era of Persistent Conflict," Army Magazine, October 2008, 28. Cawley | 3 Michael Herr’s seminal New Journalist account of the Vietnam War, Dispatches (1977). Both are acclaimed touchstones of the grunt’s-eye view genre, a subgenre of cinematic and literary texts that focusses on “the narrow personal experience” of soldiers in war, a designation often used synonymously with “grunt doc,” which Patricia Aufderheide codified in 2007 to describe the tradition of documentary films that portray life and death on the battlefield through the perspective of soldiers, structured by a “voyeuristic quest” and cinéma vérité techniques.6 It is worth noting that in addition to his work as a filmmaker, Sebastian Junger has authored a number of ambitious books that may seem like better candidates for this comparative study. In particular, War (2010), the chronicle of Junger’s experience imbedded in Afghanistan, shares Dispatches’ literary medium and fundamental objective—in Junger’s words, to convey “what it’s like to serve in a platoon of combat infantry.”7 But unlike Restrepo and Dispatches, the book lacks the critical and commercial success as well as the artistic value and influence that would warrant its treatment as a landmark of the subgenre. Moreover, in War, Junger often trades in his point of view as correspondent and documentarian for that of biologist, anthropologist, psychologist, and military historian. Fellow war correspondent Dexter Filkins critiques this approach, noting, War aims to be not only a “boots-on-the-ground narrative … of American fighting men but a discourse on the nature of war itself” that uses “every moment in the Korengal as the occasion for an extended riff.” Junger’s digressions, Filkins importantly senses, cause the characters of Second Platoon to “disappear.”8 This perspective is highlighted by the book’s considerable bibliography and marks a significant departure from the formal and artistic torch ignited by the Vietnam era’s New Journalists as well as the movement’s historical import, a torch held most firmly by today’s documentary filmmakers. In short, Dispatches and Restrepo are emblematic of the grunt’s-eye view genre and its trajectory. What crucially distinguishes these texts, then, is how they figure the American soldier’s subjectivity and identity. Most simply, in Dispatches, soldiers are a recognizable we all while in Restrepo, they constitute an illegible who?. To explain this distinction, I bring together two lines of criticism. First, the older debates over the politics of literary postmodernism, specifically Linda Hutcheon, Aijaz Ahmad, 6 Renny Christopher, The Viet Nam War The American War: Images and Representations in Euro-American and Vietnamese Exile Narratives (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1995), 6; Patricia Aufderheide, “Your Country, My Country: How Films About The Iraq War Construct Publics,” Framework Vol. 48, No 2 (2007), 59-60; Other grunt docs and grunt’s-eye view narratives include “M” (1966), The Anderson Platoon (1967), Jarhead: A Marine’s Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles (2003), Gunner Palace (2004), Baghdad Express: A Gulf War Memoir (2003), Occupation Dreamland (2005), Generation Kill (2008), Armadillo (2010), and The Good Soldiers (2010). 7 Sebastian Junger, War (New York: Hatchet Book Group, 2010), 25. 8 Dexter Filkins, “Nothing to Do but Kill and Wait,” New York Times, 14 May 2010, https://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/16/books/review/Filkins-t.html.