The Film Civil War and What I Learned

 

The film Civil War debuted this weekend, but it is not about the past Civil War, the one where the good guys and the bad guys and the reasons behind the war are pretty clear. Instead, the film is set in a near future, one in which the divisive animosities of today have played themselves out to an unbearably violent war. (Note: the R rating is earned for remarkably disturbing images of war and death. This is not one to take the children to.) Director and writer Alex Garland has shown admirable restraint by not assigning a moral high ground to either side of the conflict. Instead, the film focuses on a carload of journalists traveling through the chaos of war from New York City to Washington DC—Lee (Kirsten Dunst), the weary war photographer; Joel (Wagner Moura), the experienced war correspondent; Sammy ( Stephen McKinley Henderson), the aging NewYork Times reporter; and Jesse (Cailey Spaeny), the very young aspiring photographer. These four characters provide the lens through which we experience the conflict and, more importantly, allow us, the audience, to decide what we want to learn. The writing, directing, cinematography and acting are excellent, but this is not a review. Instead, I want to share three things I learned.

1.     War is hell. The film is unswerving in depicting the destructiveness of war, both physical and emotional. Fires burn, unchecked in cities and forests. The camera does not spare us gruesome details as People are killed in almost every possible way. This destruction is especially devastating because it takes place in the familiar settings of our life—the JC Penney’s parking lot, the rural gas station, the roadside tourist Santa-land. 

But even more disturbing is the destruction of human compassion.  Throughout the film we see men and women torture and kill. At one point the reporter asks why are you shooting? The response: Because they are shooting at me. There is no ideological high ground, just mindless violence responding to violence. And then, almost more disturbing, are those who try to ignore the war around them—an eerily quiet town barricaded against the war, ignoring the pain and suffering just outside their city limits.

So, the first lesson I learned in the movie is that the conflict and animosity we are feeding today could lead to physical war and suffering in the future. It’s not worth the cost. We don’t want to end up in a world even remotely resembling the one in this movie.

2.     Objective journalism matters. At one point in the movie, young Jessie is asked to make the call whether a tortured man lives or dies. (He is nearly dead anyway.) Terrified, she freezes. Experienced photographer Lee simply photographs the horrifying scene. Later, Jessie asks Lee, “Why couldn’t I speak out, make the decision?” Lee responds, “That’s not our job. Our job is to take the photo and let those who see it make the decision.” And that is the job of journalists: To reveal as truthfully as possible all the sides of an issue, so that their readers can make informed decisions.

This is not the way journalism seems to be heading now. An April 12 Wall Street Journal article details the current conflict at the New York Times “where management has been at odds with factions of the newsroom over . . . coverage of sensitive topics like the transgender community and social justice.” Leaders at the paper are “concerned that some Times journalists are compromising their neutrality and applying ideological purity tests to coverage decisions.” Then there is this April 9 story in The Free Press, in which long-time NPR reporter Uri Berliner shares cases of blatant biased reporting at NPR. He says “An open-minded spirit no longer exists within NPR, and now, predictably, we don’t have an audience that reflects America.” Berliner warns that the press “expect[s] high standards of transparency from public figures and institutions, but [doesn’t] practice those standards.” 

The lesson here: If we are going to avoid an all-out conflagration (or even dysfunctional government) the free press needs to step up as a source of fair and unbiased reporting. Thomas Jefferson said, "our liberty depends on the freedom of the press." The press matters in a democracy because people can only make good decisions at the polls if they are well informed. Without clear-eyed objective reporting, voters will not know who to trust or what to believe. Then the way is clear for misinformation and conspiracy theories to take the tiller of the ship of state. We need to be able to trust the press.

3.     Each individual journey matters. This film is centered on a journey, an archetypal, mythical journey if you will. As the journalists’ SUV travels from NYC to DC, the characters also journey toward self-knowledge, as we all do in our life experience, a mythic journey we know so well from fairy tales, Star Trek, and Lord of the Rings. A young innocent sets forth on adventure, is aided and mentored by experienced guides, and completes the journey with a boon, a gift, a knowledge she didn’t have before. 

 

In this film, Jessie is the innocent. She says she is 23 but looks not a day over 16. Along the way she faces trial after trial and is taught and saved by her mentors. In the end, she faces the reality and the horror of what is happening, bravely recording the truth to share with the world. Perhaps her photographs will stun her country into fighting for a better future. 

And that, finally, is what all three messages add up to for me. If we don’t want physical war and violence to destroy our country, or even metaphorical warfare to prevent our growth, we must each individually follow the hero path and fight for a better world. We must strive to find ways to overcome animosity and distrust. We must look for ways to promote wise governance. We can’t hide from it all, hoping it will go away. We need to find trustworthy sources, even if that means consuming many different media outlets, reflecting different biases. We need to be informed. We need to vote. We need to speak up rationally, without enmity. We need to do what we can, individually, to help our country.

The film Civil War shows us that the direction we are heading is not where we want to go. Let’s change course now.

 

 

Books Changing Me in 2023

 

I love to read. In 2023, I read 79 books, usually two or three books at a time--audible, digital, and paper. A lot of my reading is just for fun--“going-to-sleep” books, I call them--cozy mysteries and YA books I can read just until my eyes close at night. These don’t ask a lot of me.

 

But every year some books change me. Here are a few that made me want to be better last year, making me want to “Confront My Mortality” and “Do Stuff Anyway.” 

 

Confronting My Mortality

Being Mortal by Atul Gawande was a good reminder of the fragility we nearly all face at the end of life. Gawande, a medical doctor, looks closely at this fragility and how we can better prepare for it, both personally (make good plans) and as a culture (create good places for the fragile elderly). For me, I met with my children to discuss my financial affairs, my passwords, my trust, and--according to Gawande, most important of all--my Living Will. 

 

In The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, Margareta Magnusson, who is Swedish and “between 80 and 100” (her words), takes us along as she considers the accumulations of a long and happy life, reflecting on the memories and the joy, and then passing the possessions on to others. It was a sweet reminder that what matters is not the things we accumulate but our experiences, those we love, and what we learn and become. Now I find I am more willing to let go of stuff.

 

Learning and sharing is the theme of From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life by Arthur C. Brooks. A Harvard professor of Public Leadership, Brooks has written many influential books, including Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth About Compassionate Conservatism and Love Your Enemies: How Decent People Can Save America from the Culture of Contempt. From Strength to Strength is about recognizing the good older people can still do. Though we may not excel at basketball or high finance, we can share the strengths we have accumulated over a lifetime, strengths of wisdom and understanding. Since reading this one, I’m thinking about what I have yet to contribute, which leads to the next category of influential books—doing stuff. 

 

Doing Stuff

Edmund Morris’s hefty three volume biography of Theodore Roosevelt provides a great model for doing stuff. The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, the first volume, portrays a brilliant but sickly teen who exercised daily out for hours to overcome his own body. After the tragic death of his first wife, Teddy determined--after one day of tears and despair--to never talk of it again. He went west, bought a ranch in North Dakota, and spent his time hunting, exploring, and writing very successful history books. After his stint as president, Teddy explored the wilds of Africa and the Amazon, nearly dying in the latter attempt. While campaigning for president a second time, he is shot by an assassin, but insists on finishing his speech before being treated. Roosevelt never gave up, and we shouldn’t either. 

 

If Morris provided a role model for doing stuff, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert provides a cheerleader, inciting me to get up and do that thing, whatever it is. There will never be a better time. And if you don’t do it now, someone else will and you will miss your chance. Gilbert knows this is scary stuff, but asks the prime question:“Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you?” This one inspired me to start writing my blog again (See The Courage to Bring Forth Treasure).

 

If Elizabeth Gilbert is a cheerleader, Arnold Schwarzenegger is a no-nonsense personal trainer. In Be Useful: Seven Rules for Life, he takes no excuses for wimping out. Just “Work your a** off” and earn what you want. His life is evidence it can be done—a poor Austrian boy becomes a champion bodybuilder, an award-winning actor, and the governor of California. In his stern Austrian accent (you’ve got to listen to the audio book) he seems to shout his main points at you: Work hard! Don’t think like a victim! Listen to good advice! Help others! Be useful! I hear his voice on days I just want to stay in my jammies.

 

Other Books

Other books also changed me. Dinners with Ruth: A Memoir on the Power of Friendships by Nina Totenberg—about the friendship between an NPR journalist and a Supreme Court justice—encouraged me to be more intentional about nurturing friendships. Everybody Fights: So Why Not Get Better at It by Kim and Penn Holderness (YouTube influencers and comedians) was both funny and insightful. Now I want to be better at resolving differences not just with my spouse but with friends and family. Our Kids: The American Dream in Crisis, by Robert D. Putnam, a prominent sociologist (he wrote Bowling Alone), reveals the appallingly broad divide between classes in America, regardless of race. Reading it made me want to do something to address the problem. 

 

Finally, here’s a book by a good woman about faith: Both Things Are True by Kate Holbrook. The essays in this book were written as Holbrook--a young wife, mother, and scholar --was dying, making her insights especially poignant. Here is my favorite quote: “We find God in doing good for other people. I have learned the most about Jesus when I have tried to do the work of Jesus.” 

 

And thus, we circle back to where we started. Whatever your situation—whether you are tired, busy, inadequate, or getting old--do stuff, do good. 

 

What books changed you in 2023? Please share in the comments; I need more books to read in 2024!