My stomach turned as I looked between the dirt-crusted wrinkles in my pants and held the barrel of my musket with both hands. It wasn’t quite mid-September yet, and I hoped I would be able to return home soon to enjoy the fresh apples and collards that Elizabeth would surely be harvesting. When I left to march with General Washington, she was several months pregnant, but still had a few to go. I promised I would be back in time to see our firstborn into the world, but that was many weeks ago. Time passed like molasses as we hadn’t but a few skirmishes which were over by the time I turned up, but now we had come flush against a garrison of lobster backs, and it was my first real exposure to battle.
“You’re rigid as a plank John.” A man named Charles who I’d first met in Philadelphia said as he sat in the tall grass next to me. “There’s not much to shootin’ a man, you know.”
“No…” I said. “I don’t know.”
“The first one will haunt’cha fur a bit, but after that, you learn to furget the faces.” He said matter-of-factly. “It’s just point, shoot, reload, and repeat.”
Charles said he marched under Colonel Allen and General Arnold before joining up with Washington’s men, but he seemed to be a bit long in his stories at times. Allegedly, he took the lives of six Regulars by himself in the trenches at Fort Ticonderoga with nothing but a field knife, but I suspected it was maybe two.
“Just forget the faces, huh?” I said out loud and not necessarily for Charles’ good.
“Got to. All these boat-lickin’ Nancy boys have it coming to’em.” Charles wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “We got our families, and our land, and our way of life to protect. They got all that back overseas and they’re over here muck-flufflin’ in our business…can’t just let us be.”
Charles’ perspective was simple I suppose. It would be easy for me to just focus on Elizabeth and our baby and our farm full of apples and collards, but I couldn’t help but think about those whom I would inevitably point my musket at. Surely they had people who loved them too, and surely they had a place they missed called “home”. They had names and faces and stories that mattered – all of which I would never know…all of which I was being asked to take away if my shot landed its mark. But most of all, I wondered why this had to be. Obviously Charles found the will to fight in the perception that the things he valued most were being threatened – a perspective I suppose anyone could identify with, but beyond our own individual treasures, why am I compelled to feel justified in taking the life of any other man?
“Redcoats!” A shout from around the Quaker house we sat next to rang out, followed shortly by musket fire.
Charles jumped to his feet with excitement. “Looks like they finally crossed Brandywine! It’s time to get yur first lobster back John! Let’s go!”
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Independence Day has become my favorite holiday. And while the backyard barbeque socials and games of washers are always welcome, I’ve grown fond of the 4th of July because of the opportunity it affords every year. For whatever reason, it’s a day more so than others where people are able to set their own personal prejudices and problems aside. Collectively, American culture seems to embrace a mostly harmless and carefree attitude during those twenty-four hours. People are able to just be themselves, and it’s fascinating. I love the 4th of July because I love to study people all day and digest what I’ve seen as I lay at the lakeside under a spectacular firework display.
This year, there were an abundant amount of the really loud booming fireworks that shake your soul – the ones that I love the most, and it reminded me of cannon fire and what war must be like at times. War…without war, I wouldn’t have been watching those fireworks or sitting amongst a throng of drunken, carefree people. Without war, I wouldn’t even exist.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not pandering for guns or glory or the destruction of other cultures and ways of life for the betterment of my own. But it is rather odd, I think, that there were generations of others who gave their lives, in a sense, to protect all of the unborn and unthinkable people to come after them. Though, that’s likely not what those who have died in war were thinking about when they volunteered their lives for “freedom”.
Yet, the whole concept of sacrifice – especially the ultimate sacrifice – has always fascinated me (mainly because it is so often used as a device in stories because people have an unconscious and primordial connection to it), but are we losing touch with what the ultimate sacrifice really means? Have you ever sat down and really thought about what you were willing to die for? And more importantly, why you were willing to die for it (and don’t be lazy in answering such a question; no “because it’s important to me” or “because I love [that person / concept / thing]” answers are allowed…continue to ask why it’s important, why specifically you love that person / concept / thing – continue down the path of why until you discover an answer)? Because if you can’t answer why, then how do you know it’s worth risking your life over?
I was reading a story on CNN the other day about a Hillary Clinton supporter who was beaten to the point of hospitalization while refusing to leave a Donald Trump rally. Apparently, Trump supporters told the person to leave or they would kill him. He didn’t leave and had law enforcement not intervened, perhaps he would’ve died.
To me, there’s a great deal of sadness in such a story from a human perspective, but also a great deal of ignorance. Clearly there are two groups of people: Clinton and Trump supporters. One group is moved enough to act with violence if necessary, and one group is moved enough to risk their livelihood for what they identify with. But why? Odds are, none of the people involved have ever met Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton, and it’s guaranteed (based on the rhetoric in every past Presidential election campaign) that neither candidate actually believes what they are saying, nor will the majority of what they “stand for” come to fruition in reality. Neither candidate cares about those who support them, they care about those who line their pockets with money and their future actions only go to return the favor if elected.
So why do people risk their lives, or why do people feel compelled to use violence to “support” these candidates? If you think about it, it comes down to values, and the media does such a great job of personifying figures like Clinton and Trump to fit these values and ideas that aren’t actually true. So really, it’s because these people identify with certain ideas and values so strongly that they are willing to stake everything they have – even their own lives – for them.
But that’s not unlike culture, or religion in general (both of which are the primary shapers of individual worldview mind you). The power of the human mind will always be fascinating to me – how people will go to radical and illogical means (if necessary) to justify and “rationalize” their own often hurtful actions and words. Belief systems are learned from birth and rooted deep within each mind, yet we are given the perception that we actually have agency over what we want to believe and who we want to become as we start to care about such things. And as some grapple with different beliefs and ideals, it’s hard to escape what feels “right”, and what feels “right” is what was conditioned into your brain as a newborn, an infant, and a child. If you grow up around guns and hunting and trucks, the odds that you’ll one day end up as a coffee-sipping philanthropist of Japanese art museums is incredibly slim. Instead, you observe what earns praise as a child (hitting a bullseye when you shoot your gun, killing an animal, etc.), and naturally, you’ll want that praise, so you’ll carry out the behaviors and actions around you that earn it.
In our fictional battle during the American Revolution that began this post, suppose John – better yet, his friend Charles manages to survive, finds a woman, and has children. From the moment his kids are born, Charles is the kind of person who would teach them what it means “to be American” and tell old war stories that made him a “hero”. And if his kids look up to him, they’ll strive to emulate him.
One of the problems in today’s American culture comes with the advancement of the media and how unavoidable it is to keep our young, malleable minds away from it. And it’s a compounding problem. When my father was growing up, very few homes had a television in it. Values and beliefs were hammered into their minds by their parents and institutions such as church and school. In modern times, our youth are bombarded by values and beliefs primarily through media and multi-modal texts. So while the concept of being conditioned to behave in certain ways and believe certain things is the same, the delivery method is quite different. The parents of today have very little (if any) control over what values and beliefs their children are being given in the culture around them. And that’s a scary thought.
We now live in contradictory times, where one of the celebrated concepts in our media is individualism or egotism, yet we cannot function without the help or dependence (in many ways) of others. Are we meant to be confused? Are we meant to constantly be questioning our identities – something the media and corporations promise they can “fix” if we buy their latest products? It’s a dangerous set-up to be sure. Embracing the idea of a super self-centered lifestyle breeds anger, fear, sadness, hate, and ultimately, apathy.
It’s easy for most to hide behind a computer screen on a forum with a fake name, or send a text message that eliminates human connection in order to say terrible things, but in reality, if you had to say the same things to a person face-to-face, would you? Would you fight for it and be willing to die for it? Perhaps that’s what makes someone like Donald Trump appealing to people. It might be hard to agree with what he “stands for” morally, but at least he has the courage to say what he wants to, when he wants to, and however he wants to. Maybe there are a lot more people (or “trolls”) out in the world who wish they had the courage to do the same thing?
Regardless, this isn’t a post about politics. It’s about the loss of the individual human story (ironic considering). Instead of valuing the journey and stories of not only ourselves, but of every other person as well, we let the biased and agenda-laced values and beliefs of the organizations and institutions around us shape who we are to become versus discovering those things for ourselves through an emersion in various cultures who have vastly different value systems. Instead we become polarized, as if concepts like conservatism and liberalism are sports teams that we have to stay loyal to no matter how hurtful they may be to others, or no matter how much we really might not agree with them deep down. It’s group mentality, and we subscribe to certain groups in an attempt to define our own identities. In the end, it’s confusion, and it’s not genuine.
On the 4th of July, people aren’t afraid to show their true colors (for the most part). There’s a sense that they aren’t going to be judged for their actions, words, and behaviors. Independence Day gives them a “free” pass so-to-speak to not have to hide behind a fake persona for the means of self-survival. It’s a day that we – strangely – have because of war…because of our need to band together as a group and believe in similar values and beliefs. We were once a culture that banded together around these ideals, but have now grown far from that. There are so many different groups trying to tell us who we should be nowadays, it’s hard not to think that our great country isn’t fracturing all over the place – something that will leave us broken as a nation if there becomes too much anger and fear and sadness and hate and apathy.
So what is it that you would be willing to die for? And why? Your spouse? Your family? Because you love them? Well where did you learn what love was? Why is love important to you? Who taught you that? What are their values? How were they raised? The rabbit hole goes on and on, but it’s important. Because if you were ever put in John’s situation during the Battle of Brandywine in the American Revolution and you saw the “enemy” (the other), could you pull the trigger knowing they had their own life full of memories and people and stories and love. Could you pull the trigger knowing they had meaning in existing? If I was to finish the story, John wouldn’t be able to do it, and John would die. Animal Instinct (to survive, to provide, to reproduce – this applies to culture as well) will always triumph over Human Intellect (higher reasoning; the ability to seek why) unfortunately. So are you a John, or are you a Charles? Now we’re back to polarized thinking and identity. Funny, isn’t it?