Seeing through the fog of propaganda
How has it become acceptable to oppose the Afghan war but support the troops?
BY Dave Bidini
A friend asked if I wanted to go to Afghanistan. To play hockey. He said he’d get a plastic rink—simulated ice, the kind NHLers use in the off-season—set it up at base camp, and a bunch of “celebrities” would play a game versus the soldiers. Someone would film it. Later, we’d put on a show—music, comedy, whatever else. I told him: “I don’t support the war.” He asked me: “Yeah, but you support the troops, don’t you?” I told him that I didn’t. “Yeah, me neither,” he said.
We never went to Afghanistan.
I’ve never understood why it’s acceptable to support one’s troops while standing against the war. War sucks from the soldier out, from the bullet to the target, and from the target back. Even though I support a person’s right to choose to become a carpenter, animal trainer, plastics expert, editorial cartoonist or homemaker, I’m not required to approve of these jobs. It sucks that soldiers die in the same way that miners or farmers or industrial workers die, but soldiers choose to become soldiers knowing that their chance of dying at work is considerably greater than others. While no one wants to stand coldly against the horror and pain of seeing families ripped apart and destroyed, victims watching their brothers, sisters or parents killed in a useless war sopping with propaganda and political nostalgia, no one wants to be used as a pawn in the war’s public relations ring either. I support the bereaved’s right to feel anger and bitterness towards our government more than I do the armed forces’ right to demand our compassion.
Last week, the Canadian Forces moved into a large swath of land at the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto, showcasing jet fighters and army tanks and miles of netting, rope and khaki. Army and navy personel prowled the grounds, too, trying to recruit teenagers while passing out dog tags to families waiting in line for ice cream waffles or the Polar Express. Dog tags were once symbols of American military mythology—in my youth, they were something worn by guys lying in muddy, blood-soaked battlefields on WGRZ’s Saturday Afternoon at the Movies—but they’ve since been adopted as part of the Canadian military’s US-style iconography; insidious jewelry jangling at fairgrounds across the country.
One of the most disturbing parts of the Forces’ travelling show is that it comes with no disclaimer. Kids climb into tanks the way they might climb into a starfighter, high on the fantasy of the machine. It’s as propagandist as anything the military has ever done, eschewing the sober history of previous wars while cutting straight to the glory of the guns. While all of this was happening on the day that I attended the fair, teams of jetfighters were roaring overhead, part of the CNE’s annual airshow. Their sound was frighteningly loud, and when the planes’ first appeared, people ducked and covered and young children brayed as if being attacked by above. It was a reminder of what war sounds like, and how people in parts of the world are forced to deal with the horror of these planes every day of their lives. I’m not sure this message was as clear to the fairgoers as the army’s guns-are-fun agenda, but hopefully it countered the Forces’ deadly propaganda. Canadians used to be able to see through this sort of thing. But that was a long time ago.
