I love stories about military exploits and am a sucker for war movies. (See Celluloid Nazis.) But Adam Hochschild makes an important point that in film and virtually every other aspects of our culture we are far better at celebrating those who fight wars than those who courageously oppose them. -- Lovechilde
Going Beyond the Tale of a Boy and His Horse
By
Adam Hochschild, cross-posted from Tom Dispatch
Well in advance of the 2014 centennial of the beginning of “the war
to end all wars,” the First World War is suddenly everywhere in our
lives. Stephen Spielberg’s
War Horse opened on 2,376 movie screens and has collected six Oscar nominations, while the
hugely successful play it’s based on is still packing in the crowds in New York and a second production is being readied to tour the country.
In addition, the must-watch TV soap opera of the last two months,
Downton Abbey,
has just concluded its season on an unexpected kiss. In seven
episodes, its upstairs-downstairs world of forbidden love and dynastic
troubles took American viewers from mid-war, 1916, beyond the Armistice,
with the venerable Abbey itself turned into a convalescent hospital
for wounded troops. Other dramas about the 1914-1918 war are on the
way, among them an HBO-BBC miniseries based on Ford Madox Ford’s
Parade’s End quartet of novels, and a TV adaptation of Sebastian Faulks’s novel
Birdsong from an NBC-backed production company.
In truth, there’s nothing new in this. Filmmakers and novelists have
long been fascinated by the way the optimistic, sunlit, pre-1914
Europe of emperors in plumed helmets and hussars on parade so quickly
turned into a mass slaughterhouse on an unprecedented scale. And there
are good reasons to look at the
First World War carefully and closely.
After all, it was responsible for the deaths of some nine million
soldiers and an even larger number of civilians. It helped ignite the
Armenian genocide and the Russian Revolution, left large swaths of
Europe in smoldering ruins, and remade the world for the worse in almost
every conceivable way -- above all, by laying the groundwork for a
second and even more deadly, even more global war.
There are good reasons as well for us to be particularly haunted by
what happened in those war years to the country that figures in all four
of these film and TV productions: Britain. In 1914, that nation was at
the apex of glory, the unquestioned global superpower, ruling over the
largest empire the world had ever seen. Four and a half years later its
national debt had increased tenfold, more than 720,000 British soldiers
were dead, and hundreds of thousands more seriously wounded, many of
them missing arms, legs, eyes, genitals.
The toll fell particularly heavily on the educated classes that
supplied the young lieutenants and captains who led their troops out of
the trenches and into murderous machine-gun fire. To give but a single
stunning example, of the men who graduated from Oxford in 1913, 31% were
killed.
“Swept Away in a Red Blast of Hate”
Yet curiously, for all the spectacle of boy and horse, thundering
cavalry charges, muddy trenches, and wartime love and loss, the makers
of
War Horse,
Downton Abbey and -- I have no doubt --
the similar productions we’ll soon be watching largely skip over the
greatest moral drama of those years of conflict, one that continues to
echo in our own time of costly and needless wars. They do so by leaving
out part of the cast of characters of that moment. The First World War
was not just a battle between rival armies, but also a powerful, if
one-sided, battle between those who assumed the war was a noble crusade
and those who thought it absolute madness.