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Annotative Essay on the book: ‘All Quiet on the Western Front,’ by E.M. Remarque

October 18, 2015May 11, 2016 Michael Anthony

When soldiers are sent to the trenches of war, amongst the necessity for their rifles, daily food rations and combat boots, there is also a necessity for them to have left their loved ones behind. No families are allowed on the front lines, for just as a man would never masturbate in front of his dear mother; neither would he commit an act of war. Those things which happen during battle are for warriors’ eyes only. But what E.M. Remarque does in his work of fiction, All Quiet on the Western Front, is to bring war to the eyes of those who have never seen it; and it is through his detailed depiction of the inner landscape of a soldier’s soul, that he gives vision to the families, and creates a truly unique work of literary fiction.

[pullquote]”A good book forces a man to convalesce into himself and write in the margins his deepest thoughts; spurred on by a word or phrase.”[/pullquote]We are carried through the book by E.M. Remarque’s main character, Paul, whose internal thoughts, emotions and musings, teach us more about war than every General and Politician, combined. No television personality or Pulitzer Prize winning journalist could convey what a soldier, who was there, can with a mere look of the eye, or a single spoken sentence, “The war has ruined us for everything.” It is in this way that the author shows his hand; for within the first ten pages, I knew that the author had to be a combat veteran himself—after a Google search I discovered that I was right. A reader can always intuitively feel when an author has ‘been there,’ and ‘done that,’ and not merely been to the library and done the appropriate research. It’s why writers throughout the ages have continued to give the sage advice “stick with what you know.” Anything else is unacceptable, phony. And this is where the author’s true talents lay.

As a reader I felt more as though I were reading a man’s private journal than reading a work of fiction, for in the same way that fiction can feel more real than non-fiction, the author found a way to have his story told fully and personally. This is excellently done on E. M. Remarque’s part, because when an author writes a good book, it truly should act as a journal for the author’s character, and become a journal for the reader. A good book forces a man to convalesce into himself and write in the margins his deepest thoughts; spurred on by a word or phrase. A typical work of fiction or non-fiction hardly drives a reader to write in the margins, or to stop and pause as he ponders over a thought which has, seemingly, randomly popped into his head. The author’s greatest achievement isn’t his descriptions of the actual landscape of war, nor his political descriptions and breakdowns of the madness of war, although both are well done, his real style is in his ability to bare a man’s/character’s soul and have the reader feel as though they are reading non-fiction rather than fiction.

“We have become wild beasts. We do not fight, we defend ourselves against annihilation. It is not against men that we fling our bombs, what do we know of men in this moment when Death is hunting us down—now, for the first time in three days we can see his face, now for the first time in three days we can oppose him; we feel a mad anger. No longer do we lie helpless, waiting on the scaffold, we can destroy and kill, to save ourselves, to save ourselves and to be revenged.”

It is through detailed musings like this which we learn more about the author, the characters, and the story itself, then we could through the scenery of the trees, scenes of actual battles, or dialogue. As stated before, the author excels in all three aspects, but what truly makes his work unique is the inner, not the outer. Although, in order for the author to truly make his internal musings as powerful as he does, he sets things up by first building up the scenery of the war, “The wire entanglements are torn to pieces. Yet they offer some obstacle. We see the storm-troops coming…” deepens it with the scenes of action, “We make for the rear, pull wire cradles into the trench and leave bombs behind us with the strings pulled…”, and only then does he delve into the inner character workings and musing. “We have become wild beasts. We do not fight, we defend ourselves against annihilation…”

“E. M. Remarque shows us that what drives his story is the inner parts of a man.”

What is absent from the author’s story is any plot or typical character development. There is no arch. No one, or nothing, is keeping Paul from his true love or his goal; nor is Paul fighting for any altruistic reason, he neither seems to be fighting against any real enemy or even himself, and he fights for no reason. Paul is merely a man struggling to exist as a soldier in a war. The author fills in the blanks and the storyline with, instead of a typical hero/love plot, reflections from a young soldier as he struggles through war and ultimately ends up with nothing and no one. There is no growth. No middle. No climax. No end. No conclusion. But the story misses nothing, and through the author’s technique of internal character exploration, the story is carried on even though we have no definitive storyline to carry us through. War calls for no further subtext than a soldier trying to stay alive, and keep his sanity. There is no different war story to be told. This is what the author gives us.

A book made of such mental vivisection that if it were any more real, readers would have to be treated for PTSD.

“And this I know: all these things that now, while we are still in the war, sink down in us like a stone, after the war shall waken again, and then shall begin the disentanglement of life and death.”

“The days, the weeks, the years out here shall come back again, and our dead comrades shall then stand up again and march with us, our heads shall be clear, we shall have a purpose, and so we shall march, our dead comrades beside us, the years at the front behind us: –against whom, against whom?”

What I’ve learned from this book is that character and internal landscape is king, and combined with good scenery, good action, and good dialogue, a classic can be born. E. M. Remarque shows us that what drives his story is the inner parts of a man, but in order for that to work the scenery must be setup, then the scene itself, and then the inner musings.

For more annotative essays and other book related stuff click here.

Picture: Flickr/ Gwydion M. Williams

Best Of, Blogishness, Blogishness, Book Notes, MFA Notes, Politics / News, Self Improvement / Healthy Living

The Craft of Writing: Reliable Narrator, in an Unreliable World

June 8, 2015February 24, 2016 Michael Anthony

Reliable Narrator

In an

Unreliable World

“Some first lines are so powerful that you absolutely have to keep on reading.” –Noah Lukeman

If a writer cannot hook their reader within the first sentence, paragraph, and ultimately the first chapter, then all is lost. Like a car salesman who knows that he has to make the sale before the customer leaves; “They’ll never come back, make the sale now!” is often the motto. The same goes for writing. Once a book is placed down, there’s always a chance that it may never be picked back up. A writer’s best bet is to make sure that the book is never placed down. The best way to do that is to introduce a reader to a foreign, often unreliable world—which is somewhat implicit in memoir—and give them a reliable, trustworthy, narrator.

“How does the reader know that they’re going to be taken through a foreign world by a guide they can trust?”

In this annotative essay, the first chapters of great works will be discussed—particularly non-fiction—and how it is that the authors convince us that we’re being introduced to an unreliable/foreign world with a reliable, trustworthy, narrator. The books to be focused on: A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas, Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage by Elizabeth Gilbert, Angela’s Ashes, by Frank McCourt, and Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

As stated, the beginning of a book has the biggest, most important, job. It sets the tone. The intensity. The plot. The characters. It introduces us to the world within the pages. If the world seems too bland, too predictable, too passé, then all is lost. No person begins reading with the intent to be bored, no person reads to learn something they already know; instead, we read to escape, to be entertained, to become informed. We can’t escape to the same world in which we live, we can’t be entertained from tired words, and we can’t be informed from which we already know. A book must introduce a reader to a foreign world, an unpredictable world, a world in which they can see a possibility for entertainment, mystery, escapism, and information. It’s often said that “truth is stranger than fiction,” and in non-fiction authors often have the difficult task of taking extraordinary, unbelievably true stories, and making them believable. From the man who was hiking and had to cut off his own arm, to the pastor who claims his child went to heaven, to the man who claims he slept with thousands of women. Books implicitly introduce the reader to a foreign world and once we enter this world, we need to know that we will have a trustworthy narrator to guide us through. Because if we don’t trust the narrator then we don’t trust the world they’ve created.

“This doesn’t mean that the narrator is boring, simply instead that we can trust them.”

How does the reader know that they’re going to be taken through a foreign world by a guide they can trust? Imagine going to a museum and there’s two tour guides that you can choose. Tour guide number one is a nineteen year old, high school dropout, named Frank. Frank’s a slacker who always wears his t-shirt too big and pants too low, he only gives tours so that he has enough money to buy drugs. Tour guide number two is a sixty-five year old, retiree, named Blake. Blake has a Ph.D. in art history, and only works as a tour guide because he’s loves art and needs something to do while he’s retired.

If you were going to have a tour of an art museum, and if you had a choice, which tour guide would you prefer? The answer is easy… Blake, of course.

We chose Blake because we trust him. We trust the bow-tie that adorns the collar of his nicely ironed shirt, we trust the Ph.D. that follows the word “Blake,” on his nametag. We trust the kind hearted voice of a man who’s poured over books of art, who’s seen the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, and who’s gazed up at the Sistine Chapel. We trust Blake because when he doesn’t know something he tells us he doesn’t know. He isn’t here to be your friend or get you to like him or go out on a date with him he’s only here to tell you everything he knows about art. Everything about Blake, from the way he looks, to the way he talks, is what we would expect. He’s congruent with himself.

“Dostoyevsky’s narrator may be a horrible, miserable person, but he’s a horrible, miserable person that we instantly trust as our narrator.”

Frank, on the other hand, we don’t trust. He seems unreliable. He calls it the Sixteen Chapel instead of the Sistine Chapel, and he knows more about Kim Kardashian then Pablo Picasso. Frank is covered in tattoos but tries to hide them with long sleeves. Frank contradicts himself. At one point he tells you that he’s been working at the museum for six months, and at another point he says three months. He leaves out information about paintings during the tour; he pretends to know more than he does, he misleads you purposely, sometimes for his own amusement, sometimes just to get an easy laugh. Frank gives tours in a certain way because sometimes he’s trying to impress some pretty ladies that are in the group and sometimes he’s just trying to get a bigger tip. Frank’s intentions as a tour guide are never altruistic, he’s never reliable or congruent, and frankly, Frank is a tour guide that we simply cannot trust.

The key to presenting a reliable narrator in an unreliable world is to make sure that they are more like Blake then Frank. This doesn’t mean that the narrator is boring, simply instead that we can trust them. If we look at the beginning of Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky:

“I’m a sick man . . . a mean man. There’s nothing attractive about me. I think there’s something wrong with my liver. But, actually, I don’t understand a damn thing about my sickness; I’m not even too sure what it is that’s ailing me. I’m not under treatment and never have been, although I have great respect for medicine and doctors. Moreover, I’m morbidly superstitious—enough, at least, to respect medicine. With my education I shouldn’t be superstitious, but I am just the same. No, I’d say I refuse medical help simply out of contrariness. I don’t expect you to understand that, but it’s so. Of course, I can’t explain whom I’m trying to fool this way. I’m fully aware that I can’t spite the doctors by refusing their help. I know very well that I’m harming myself and no one else. But still, it’s out of spite that I refuse to ask for the doctors’ help. So my liver hurts? Good, let it hurt even more!”

“We need to know that the narrator is a real person, not an amalgamation of different people or ideas, not some idealized version of a person, but a real, flesh and blood, faults and all, person.”

We see that what Dostoyevsky does is set up a strong intense tone of the narrator. He creates a character that has such a unique intensity that the reader is drawn forward to read more. And what’s more, he keeps up the intensity throughout the whole first chapter, and ultimately the whole book. Like Blake, he admits when he doesn’t know something, “I don’t understand a damn thing about my sickness,” he admits his mistakes, “I shouldn’t be superstitious, but I am just the same,” his vulnerabilities, “I’m a sick man . . . a mean man,” Dostoyevsky’s narrator may be a horrible, miserable person, but he’s a horrible, miserable person that we instantly trust as our narrator. Everything that we read and hear in that first paragraph is congruent with the portrait that the narrator is painting. We can see him. Similar to how Blake’s bow-tie matches his shirt, pants, and personality, so too does everything that we see of the narrator match up with the picture being painted. But the most important part is that we can actually see the narrator. It’s easier to trust a narrator that we can see.

In just the first paragraph of Notes from the Underground we get the sense of a man who is hurting, pleading, who is on bended knees baring his soul. This is another way to let a reader know that they’re dealing with a reliable narrator: vulnerability. By being upfront and admitting the faults within ourselves and our story—“I don’t understand a damn thing about my sickness; I’m not even too sure what it is that’s ailing me.”—the reader knows beforehand what they’re getting themselves into, and with whom; they know that the narrator’s not trying to pull one over on them, that they can be trusted. It is the man adorned in armor who needs it the most. But a man who takes his armor offer is a man unafraid, and it is the man who doesn’t hide that we trust. So even though the narrator that we’re being introduced to seems to be a horrible, miserable, loser of a narrator, he is also a trustworthy narrator, he is a narrator that we feel safe with, in the sense that we can see that he’s hiding nothing. He is vulnerable and we keep reading because we trust that vulnerability.

“We trust this vulnerability because she’s opening herself up, showing us her wounds, she’s not trying to hide, protect, or paint a perfect picture of herself, and it is vulnerability like this which makes a story great and a narrator reliable.”

Another way in which a narrator can set up a tone of reliability is with relatability. If a narrator is too far out-there, then they’ll be seen as unreliable and untrustworthy. If a character is set up as smart and intelligent but keeps doing dumb things, things that we know no real, normal person would do, then the narrator loses our trust. We need to know that the narrator is a real person, not an amalgamation of different people or ideas, not some idealized version of a person, but a real, flesh and blood, faults and all, person.

Dostoyevsky follows all these steps perfectly in Notes from the Underground. The first thing that he does is he sets up the main character, the narrator. He sets up the narrator so well and so succinctly that with each word, though, idea, and phrasing, the character becomes more and more alive, more relatable. Within a few sentences we’re no longer reading a book, we’re now hearing a story from the person sitting next to us. The words suddenly have eyes, and a nose, and a mouth, and fingers, and a beard, and a bald head. Next he shows us that not only is this narrator a real person who’s sitting next to us, but also that this narrator isn’t like our typical neighbor, co-worker, family member, or stranger on the bus. This narrator is sick. He’s depressive. He’s paranoid. He’s a man so stubborn, so defiant, that he refuses medical care out of spite. Spite for crying out loud! He neglects his own health for vengeance against and unknown, unnamed enemy. He’s “out-there” but not so far out-there that we would write him off as an untrustworthy, unrelatable, narrator. He may be telling us that that he’s crazy but we trust him when he tells us that he’s crazy. His actions are all congruent with who he is as a narrator. Then combined with the vulnerability we have a narrator who we can see, relate to, feel for, and who we trust to be our tour guide through the pages. We have our Blake!

Vulnerability, congruence, relatability, a narrator that we can actually see; these are the four things which most convince a reader that they’re dealing with a reliable narrator, and which ultimately keep them reading. And now that these four traits have been identified in Dostoyevsky’s work, we will look at several other successful, and not so successful, attempts at creating a reliable, relatable, vulnerable, and congruent narrator in non-fiction.

The memoir A Three Dog Life, by Abigail Thomas, begins:

“This is the one thing that stays the same: my husband got hurt. Everything else changes. A grandson needs me and then he doesn’t. My children are close then one drifts away. I smoke and don’t smoke; I knit ponchos, then hats, shawls, hats again, stop knitting, start up again. The clock ticks, the seasons shift, the night sky rearranges itself, but my husband remains constant, his injuries are permanent. He grounds me. Rich is where I shine. I can count on myself with him.”

“But its objective moments like this, where we may not actually believe that the narrator had the worst of the worst of upbringings, we may not believe that an Irish Catholic upbringing is the worst, but we do believe that the narrator believes it’s the worst.”

Immediately we’re shown a woman “my husband,” older “a grandmother,” who is stuck in a changing, “This is the one thing that stays the same…” never-changing, rut. The one place where she’s grounded, that lets her count on herself, is the one place that also gives her the most misery: her husband Rich. She invites us into her world, shows us the tedium of everyday life, and she, ultimately, spends the entire first chapter showing us how vulnerable she is: “I got stuck with the past and future. That’s my half of this bad hand. I know what happened and I never got used to that.” We trust this vulnerability because she’s opening herself up, showing us her wounds, she’s not trying to hide, protect, or paint a perfect picture of herself, and it is vulnerability like this which makes a story great and a narrator reliable. She is taking the armor off, and like a man at a strip-club, it’s the removing of the clothing which is the most alluring. She’s showing us her tattoos not hiding them under her sleeves.

The narrator of A Three Dog Life is immediately consistent with the picture being painted. She’s congruent. From the image of an older women, to the talk of her knitting, to the fact that she has only a twenty-seven inch TV. Most kids nowadays have iPads that are twenty-seven inches. But not her. She’s older. A writer. A reader. She lives in a “cozy house,” with “pretty furniture,” where “Time passes here.” She sits quietly with her husband, plays with her dogs, talks to her grandchildren. She immediately becomes a person that we can see and relate to. We recall images of older women we’ve met or seen on TV. Wives, mothers, grandmothers, friends, co-workers, the narrator shows us a glimpse of her life and it’s something that we can immediately relate to; a woman who is simply living her life as best she can in the face of tragedy. These all help us to see the picture of a woman, and when the picture matches up with the words and actions, combined with vulnerability, congruence, and relatability, then we have a reliable narrator, one that we believe we can trust. This narration is kept up throughout the book and on every page we see a narrator who is giving herself to us, who we can see, relate to, trust, and care about. This is why Stephen King called A Three Dog Life, “The best memoir I have ever read.” This means another Blake!

Let’s look at one more good example—Angela’s Ashes, by Frank McCourt—before moving onto an example where the author doesn’t set up a reliable narrator. Angela’s Ashes begins:

“My father and mother should have stayed in New York where they met and married and where I was born. Instead, they returned to Ireland when I was four, my brother, Malachy, three, the twins, Oliver and Eugene barley one, and my sister, Margaret, dead and gone.

When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood; the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.

People everywhere brag and whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version: the poverty; the shiftless loquacious alcoholic father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fire; pompous priests; bullying schoolmasters; the English and the terrible things they did to us for eight hundred long years.”

In the first few pages, McCourt sets up a narrator that we can see. Irish and Catholic we can see those rosy white cheeks and blue eyes. We can see the tough-as-nails kid with a hard upbringing and a just as hard look at life. We can see this rough narrator and rough lens which he views the world. What is set up is a narrator who thinks that he had it the worst; that his upbringing wasn’t just the worst of the worst, it was the worst of the worst of the worst. We know that this is a narrator who is going to tell us about how bad things were for him, and he does. But its objective moments like this, where we may not actually believe that the narrator had the worst of the worst of upbringings, we may not believe that an Irish Catholic upbringing is the worst, but we do believe that the narrator believes it’s the worst. And that’s all that really matters. Memoir isn’t about perfection, it’s about point-of-view. We’re reading about a person, their thoughts, feelings, action, and in-actions in life. We need to see them and know their thoughts, no matter how faulty we may see them as. We’re not looking to see our reflection but theirs.

“It is hard to trust a narrator that we cannot see. And even harder still when said narrator has covered themselves in armor.”

Like everyone’s infamous Uncle Larry who always says he’s going to stop drinking. He might mean it every month when he says it, but we all know the truth. We know that every month he says he’ll quit, then will quit for a few hours, a day at the most, and then is right back at it. We don’t have to believe everything Uncle Larry says, or the narrator, but we do have to believe that we can trust the narrator. And just as we trust Uncle Larry to keep at it, so too do we trust the narrator of Angela’s Ashes to keep up with the voice that is set up. Frank McCourt gives us a reliable narrator.

Throughout the whole first chapter the narrator of Angela’s Ashes is shown as a man with a hard upbringing. From the stories of his father being hunted by the Irish Republican Army (“a price on his head,”) to the stories of poverty (“dad loses his job,”), alcoholism, and death (“he died of the drink,”). He shows us that he meant what he said. That he had a tough upbringing. He didn’t tell us that he had a tough childhood and then begin telling us about how rich his parents were and how much he loved them and them him. We see a narrator as a person who saw things not for better or worse but simply for what they were. This is another clear-cut example of a narrator allowing themselves to be vulnerable on the page and stay congruent with the voice and image that they’re presenting.

Most people have dealt with troubles in their life and if we see a narrator who has dealt with similar troubles, whether directly mirroring ours, or in a deep enough sense compared to ours, we will make the connection and relate with the narrator. If this is combined with vulnerability, congruence and a portrait, then we will once again experience the feeling of having a reliable narrator.

To look at something that isn’t the best of examples of the above mentioned techniques we will look at Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage a memoir by Elizabeth Gilbert. Committed starts off:

“Late one afternoon in the summer of 2006, I found myself in a small village in northern Vietnam, sitting around a sooty kitchen fire with a number of local women whose language I did not speak, trying to ask them questions about marriage.

For several months already, I had been traveling across Southeast Asia with a man who was soon to become my husband. I suppose the conventional term for such an individual would be “fiancé,” but neither one of us was very comfortable with that word, so we weren’t using it. In fact, neither one of us was very comfortable with this whole idea of matrimony at all. Marriage was not something we had ever planned with each other, nor was it something either of us wanted. Yet providence had interfered with our plans, which was why we were now wandering haphazardly across Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Indonesia, all the while making urgent—even desperate—efforts to return to America and wed.”

Although well-written, Committed, lacks several of the tenants which I believe make a reliable narrator, and ultimately, a good story.

For starters, though, we will look at what works well within the story: congruency. Gilbert comes across as a confused, though congruent narrator. She is in love with a man, wants to be with him, but doesn’t want to marry him—these feelings fluctuate, but we are shown a narrator who fluctuates, so we can trust those feelings. We can (at first) picture a young woman, in-love, who is going back and forth on her decision. But even this congruency eventually works against the reliability of the narrator.

Does she, though, paint a picture of the narrator? No. She does not. What we see is the image of a generic, rich woman (middle-aged?) who is a writer. We don’t see her wrinkles. The burn marks on her skin, the cigarette between her lips and drink in her hand. We see nothing. A generic woman who has a slight problem. It is hard to trust a narrator that we cannot see. And even harder still when said narrator has covered themselves in armor.

“A reliable narrator is someone who puts themselves into the pages. They strip off all armor and make themselves vulnerable.”

The problem with the narrator is that ultimately, throughout the book, we don’t trust the narrator. Which means that even though the “voice,” may be congruent with the image that’s being present, we don’t trust that voice, so the image doesn’t matter. There is no vulnerability in the pages. She is wealthy, in love, and simply has to decide whether or not to marry a man who she claimed “…loved each other unreservedly,” and which she had already made a life-long pact, “We had even sworn lifelong fidelity to each other already…” She gives us nothing. Her most famous memoir, Eat Pray Love, was a more personal book, something that showed her vulnerabilities. But those vulnerabilities are lacking in Committed. We don’t see a real person with a real problem—a woman getting over an awful divorce, like in Eat Pray Love. Now, her only problem is that she is wealthy, in a loving, committed, relationship with a rich, good-looking, tall, dark, and handsome Brazilian, someone whom she loves and has pledged her life to. And yet, her big problem is that she’s hesitant on getting married again. And these feelings teeter back and forth. She wants to get married. She doesn’t. Maybe she can find another way around this. Get married. Don’t. Etc. This is a situation that isn’t that relatable. There’s no vulnerability, so there’s nothing really for us to relate to and this is where she loses us.

Vulnerability and relatability is in the details. Like Thomas talking about her 27in TV in Three Dog Life. It just seems so pathetic. So lonely. So perfect. Or like McCourt in Angela’s Ashes. The hard childhood. The alcoholism. The deaths. The Irish Catholic guilt. He doesn’t skirt the issues. He doesn’t skirt the facts. He gives it to the reader. Gilbert does not. She gives a vague problem, doesn’t let us see her, and then gives no real details to the story, or about herself. Gilbert is the Frank of narrators. She hides her tattoos and doesn’t let us see her. We have no choice but to not trust her and cast her off.

As the New York Post wrote about the book:

“Ironically, Gilbert’s heart does not seem to have been in this book…

The book is more filler than anything, just pages and pages of rambling encounters with poor Asian people who talk to her about marriage and teach her things, then some Wiki’d historical facts, then some paeans to her worldliness and personal growth — all the while continuing to evade any real personal disclosures.”

A reliable narrator is someone who puts themselves into the pages. They strip off all armor and make themselves vulnerable. “This is me, blemishes and all.” No one wants to read a book that is layered in chain-mail. We see nothing, only manufactured goods, we don’t see the flesh and bones and blood, which is what we want. To create a reliable, memorable, trust-worthy narrator, someone who we want guiding us through the foreign world of a book, we need someone who is vulnerable, relatable, congruent, and who we can see. Someone who we may not like, but who we can trust.

Picture: Flickr/mpclemens

Politics / News, Politics / News

6 Interesting Facts about the Iraq War

May 10, 2015 Michael Anthony

Interesting Facts about the Iraq War

(for the average reader)

While many people hear about the “War on Terror” as a catch phrase thrown around on propaganda filled, politically biased, lie-filled news stations most people couldn’t even point to the country in question. A lot of misinformation is thrown around in regards to the Iraq War either for sensationalistic purposes in an attempt to please corporate sponsors with better ratings or for politically motivated agendas. In reality a lot of people have no real idea why the war was fought, who against (IE: who’s doing the actual fighting), or in some cases where it all is even taking place. There is a lot of information about the Iraq War beyond what can be found in conventional sources.

Fact #1. Many of the “terrorists” are young, well-educated college students (and some aren’t even “terrorists,” they’re just paid thugs)

The general depiction of middle-eastern terrorists is of the equivalent to what we in the United States would consider a redneck. Generally older, “gibberish” speaking, bearded suicide bombers. While movies like Team America, True Lies, or Iron Man don’t help this stereotype in all actuality most of the extremists are attending, or were enrolled in prominent universities. They are between the ages of 20 – 27, male, and often know multiple languages including English in some cases. Much like the radicals seen during the 60’s in the United States or the Occupy Wall Street movement of 2011. Additionally, the motives of these Iraqi fighters are not “death to America” as often is depicted but more out of a religious extremism also seen with certain factions of Christians in the United States. What sets these individuals apart from some of the more radical elements in the United States is nothing more than semantics more often than not. Furthermore, in our briefings before going to Iraq, we were informed that a lot of the fighters in Iraq and Afghanistan were just paid thugs. The terrorists/insurgents would go out and find impoverished people, maybe just a young man trying to feed his family, and the terrorists would offer him money to maybe place a bomb on a street, or fire a few mortars on an American base, etc. Even suicide bombers are not always “fanatics.” There have been many reports of terrorist groups, various people, and even entire countries, offering money, as high as 25,000, for anyone who will wear a suicide vest (the money would go to their family of course). This many seem ridiculous that someone would do it for the money, but in war-torn countries where the life expectancy is already lowered, and fighting is an everyday occurrence, the thought of being able to provide for your family can be and overriding feeling (and I’m sure there’s still a little religious fanaticism involved, but there’s a good bet that a lot of these people wouldn’t have worn the vests without money going to their families).

Fact #2. Believe it or not: the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are two different things

While these two wars often get lumped together they are two separate conflicts. The war in Afghanistan was a result of the hostile actions taken against the United States by a militant group believed to have originated and was currently in control of Afghanistan: Al-Qaida. On the other hand, the war in Iraq occurred as a result of, then believed, the countries possession of weapons of mass destruction IE: chemical, biological, nuclear based weapons. While over time these two conflicts have merged into a universal conflict they did not have a singular theme at the time of the United States involvement

Fact #3. Believe it or not: Iraq and Afghanistan are not geographically connected, or even that similar

Much like the specific conflicts and their origins, many people consider the countries as one place or even geographically connected. This is far from the truth. Iraq and Afghanistan are over 1000 miles apart, separated by Iran. Additionally the cultures of both countries are vastly different. Iraq’s economy is almost entirely based on the oil industry that is responsible for almost 90% of the world’s oil. Afghanistan, on the other hand, is agrarian at best with the majority of Afghan citizens living below the poverty line (and a lot of profits actually come form poppy fields–in fact to keep tribal leaders happy, some U.S. military units were actually tasked with protecting the poppy fields from the Taliban). Afghanistan is far more similar to rural places in Africa than it is to Iraq.

Fact #4. The actual Iraq War lasted a little over a year

Despite popular belief, the most recent Iraq War ended in 2006 with the death of Saddam Hussein–with many prominent American’s even declaring it over at that time. After Saddam’s death a new government was put in place, however, there has been constant infighting between the two dominate Islamic religions, Sunni and Shiite, for control of the country. Combine this with various actions on the part of smaller, more extremist groups vying for control. As a result of this chaos, the United States along with many other countries and international organizations have had to moderate the violence within the country. The ongoing struggle is a direct result of the conclusion of the war.

Fact #5. The whole country isn’t constantly in a state of Chaos

A lot of the pictures and videos we see coming from Iraq are of various bombings and shootings, etc. However, outside the city of Baghdad and a few specific locations the majority of the country is relaxed and living life like any other day. Similar to what you would see in the United States after a major natural disaster. While citizens in places near the coast of Florida can be seen trying to pick up the pieces after a hurricane, residents in unaffected areas of Florida or even other states go about their lives like they would normally. Most Iraqis get up, go to work, and come home, repeat just like we do.

Fact #6. The prominent threat is homemade bombs

We see a lot of gun fighting and such on TV and in movies related to the Iraq war but the major problem isn’t from one on one combat but from Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs). These can range from a plastic jug of gasoline with a fuse to cell phone detonated explosives. The issue with these compared to standard gun fights are that the extremists using them do not have to be present when they go off or even been within trigger range in some cases. Much like landmines during WWII, these are often set it and forget it type of weapons that can result in casualties and fatalities for both the intended target and any unintended personnel. Additionally, since they can be made out of anything, finding and defusing these devices is akin to finding a needle in a hay stack–a needle that will explode if you don’t find it.

Picture: Flickr/The U.S. Army

Politics / News, Politics / News, ptsd, Self Improvement / Healthy Living, Uncategorized

Is PTSD Genetic? Can PTSD be passed onto my children?

April 25, 2015February 24, 2016 Michael Anthony

Is PTSD Genetic?

Can PTSD be passed onto my children?

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a psychiatric ailment that affects many people around the world. This stress disorder can affect anyone and it is typically caused by uncontrollable or unpredictable traumatic events. In most cases, PTSD symptoms appear after several days or hours of certain event. However, there are times that it takes up to few months or weeks for the symptoms to manifest themselves. Common PTSD’s causes may be because of sudden death of loved ones, assault, car or plane crashes, rape, war, natural disasters, kidnap, childhood neglect, physical abuse and other traumatic events.

“Avoiding being reminded of the event, including becoming detached from friends and becoming emotionally withdrawn, is another sign of PTSD.”

But can we tell just by taking a simple blood test if we are predisposed genetically to PTSD? This question has been the biggest issue internationally. International researchers have found a genetic marker that is linked to PSTD in the blood samples of the conflict zone based Marines. This team of researchers is studying to figure out who is more resilient to PTSD, and who is more at risk for PTSD.

Women are more likely to develop this stress disorder than men. Signs tend to cluster into three main areas. One is when a person relives the event through vivid images and nightmares together with an extreme reaction like heart palpitations, uncontrollable shaking and chills. Avoiding being reminded of the event, including becoming detached from friends and becoming emotionally withdrawn, is another sign of PTSD. The last main signs of this disorder are when a person is hyper aroused, irritable, startled easily, and/or has difficulty concentrating and trouble sleeping.

The idea that your genes play a role in whether you develop this stress disorder has been a famous focus of frequent research. Scientists have actually discovered, in mice, the genes that regulate fear. The lack of a brain chemical that is regulating the fear (which is called peptide that releases gastrin), led to fear response that is greater among rodents. In another study, mice that do not have a protein that is necessary to form the so called “fear memories”, have less tendency of freezing up and willing to explore unfamiliar spaces (think of the cartoon Tom and Jerry, and how Jerry (the mouse) wasn’t afraid of Tom the cat. This could have, realistically, been because Jerry lacked a certain protein in his brain that would’ve told him to be afraid of Tom). This is important to note because many people believe that PTSD is an unnatural response, but PTSD can often be a natural response to a somewhat unnatural situation. The brain is almost wired to respond in such a way.

“It’s been said that a single person with PTSD infects/affects/effects up to seven individuals with symptoms.”

There are also studies on twins which show that heredity is accounting for about 30 percent of the differences responding to trauma. Identical twins are much more likely to develop this stress disorder than the fraternal twins. Another research has looked into the role of inherited mental disorders, brain differences or tendencies of addiction.

An unusual research avenue is the contribution of our immune systems to the development of the symptoms of PTSD or if it has also a big role in this development. Prior studies showed that people who have been diagnosed with PTSD as compared to individuals without PTSD suggest that their differences in their genes in relation to inflammation, plays a role.

Therefore, there is a tendency that PTSD can be acquired genetically, however, there is no positive result as researchers are still going on progress of having some clues as to what may predict resilience and risk.

One thing to keep in mind about PTSD, is that even though it may or may not be genetic, a father or mother can still pass on PTSD to their children, and loved ones, through proximity. It’s been said that a single person with PTSD infects/affects/effects up to seven individuals with symptoms. Think of it as the flu. A father gets sick with the flu: he’s lethargic, has a fever, diarrhea, and he’s nauseous. Several days pass and the father’s son gets sick. The son has all the same symptoms as his father, he’s lethargic, nauseous, has diarrhea, etc. Then, the next thing you know, the sister gets sick, the mother, and the whole house is laid up in bed. Now, take that same scenario and imagine a man with PTSD. He’s irritable, short-tempered, has trouble sleeping, is anxious, and is emotionally withdrawn. How long do you think it’ll be before his short-temper and irritability is passed along to his wife and children?

In a sense, it’s the old nature vs nurture debate. Are we predisposed to PTSD or brought up into it?

Picture: Flickr/Ilona Meagher

Best Of, Blackout Poetry, Blogishness, Blogishness, Politics / News, Politics / News, Uncategorized

Blackout Poetry: Combat Action Badge

April 14, 2015February 24, 2016 Michael Anthony

This poem/post will probably be a little more controversial than most Blackout poetry posts. That’s because it involves Combat Action Badges, and the current debate regarding them, and when/how/if/under what circumstances they should be awarded. My position on this is somewhat unique, though I know I’m not alone…

This article originally appeared in the Army Times and was over whether or not Combat Action Badge’s (CAB’s) should be retroactively awarded to soldiers.

“We don’t fight wars for awards.”

Here’s my take: Back when I was in the army, and serving in Iraq, I was awarded a CAB while serving in Mosul, Iraq. Now, at the time, CAB’s were a huge thing. Everyone wanted one. Some people wanted CAB’s so bad that they were even willing to lie to get them and “pretend,” as though they had been in a direct combat situation. It was a sad, sickening, spectacle. Several of my commanders lied about being in combat (and then backed up one another’s stories) just so they could get the coveted “Combat Action Badge.” This, ultimately, led myself and several fellow soldiers to come up with the saying “Never trust a soldier with a chest full of metal, unless the metal is shrapnel.” Lying was so prevalent that towards the end, the CAB, and several other awards, meant nothing to us.

People were trying so hard to get CAB’s that they were petitioning the Army, even back then, to change the regulations. Some soldiers wanted CAB’s for being around unexploded ordnance (I kid you not) others wanted unit-wide CAB’s since some of us had been in combat (that is actually too ridiculous for me to be able to explain in a blog post). And the coup de grace of all this is that at the end of my deployment, several fellow soldiers wanted me to lie about the events of an attack so that another soldier could be awarded a CAB. I refused, and the soldiers got upset with me, as though I was the asshole.

Anyway, if you can’t tell by now, I have no respect for soldiers, or anyone else, who feels the need to bitch, complain, and whine that they don’t have enough awards to pin on their chests.

We don’t fight wars for awards. Act like it!

Poem Transcription:

Debate

Over

CABs

The Combat Action Badge

Was made to

Award Veterans

They want to be recognized

For more military/war related blackout poetry click here.

To read more about the military experience and CAB’s check out the following book:

Politics / News, Politics / News

Bowe Bergdahl – Is He a Traitor?

June 3, 2014February 24, 2016 Michael Anthony

U.S. Army Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl, the final remaining captured American soldier, has been released.

U.S. Army soldier Bowe Bergdahl has recently been released from capture, after being held captive by Taliban insurgents for five years. The U.S. released five prisoners from Guantanamo Bay in exchange for Bergdahl. The prisoners are: Abdul Haq Wasiq, Mullah Norullah , Khairullah Khairkhwa, Mohammed Nabi, Mohammad Fazl (all are former high ranking Taliban officials, and are straight up bad dudes).

The White House released the following statement on the matter:

“Today the American people are pleased that we will be able to welcome home Sergeant Bowe Bergdahl, held captive for nearly five years. On behalf of the American people, I was honored to call his parents to express our joy that they can expect his safe return, mindful of their courage and sacrifice throughout this ordeal. Today we also remember the many troops held captive and whom remain missing or unaccounted for in America’s past wars. Sergeant Bergdahl’s recovery is a reminder of America’s unwavering commitment to leave no man or woman in uniform behind on the battlefield. And as we find relief in Bowe’s recovery, our thoughts and prayers are with those other Americans whose release we continue to pursue. . . .”

It’s a great moment to have a soldier return home after being a POW; however, I’m afraid that Bowe’s welcoming will be short lived. For many people in the country, outside of the ardent military news followers, the most surprising aspect of this story isn’t that Sergeant Bergdhal’s has been release, it’s that there was still even a capture American soldier in the first place. The wars of today are not like the wars of yesterday. In WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, etc, the entire nation was enthralled in the affairs of the military and wars. But today? Many people wear t-shirts, and have bumper stickers on their cars, but people in this country are not as effected, and affected, by the wars as they used to be. If you’re been following the news, it means that Bergdahl is coming home to a country that is politically torn apart, fighting its way out of a recession, and that after five years in the care of the Taliban, he’ll be coming home to receive VA care from a broken system.

We went to war with Afghanistan because the Taliban were allowing terrorists to freely train under their tutelage, protection, and control. Now we are releasing five high ranking Taliban insurgents. We will be leaving Afghanistan in a matter of years, and Bergdahl, along with his fellow veterans, is coming home to a country that had forgotten about him, forgotten about the war, and to a government that sees its veterans as nothing more than a strain on the bank account. Many are talking about Bergdahl’s release, but we cannot allow it to distract us from the issues facing veterans and how it is, and why, we got ourselves into this mess in the first place.

But that’s not the end of it. There have been rumors for years that Bergdahl wasn’t a POW, but was instead a deserter. There are stories that Bergdahl willing walked off base. That he was anti-American and a traitor. Many people are saying that because of this he didn’t deserve to come home, that he shouldn’t have been rescued and that he certainly shouldn’t have been traded for known terrorists. These are all good, valid points; however, these people are missing one important thing. Bergdahl is an American soldier, and the facts are that we don’t know the facts. The American justice system works on the notion: Innocent Until Proven Guilty. Many people are willing to hang Bergdahl before the full truth is known. Those people are misguided. At the moment, Bergdahl is an American soldier who was a POW, who was held against his will (he tried to escape several times), and who withstood harsher conditions than 99.9% of American’s could ever understand, or grasp. If he’s guilty of desertion, sure, absolutely, give him a dishonorable discharge, but he’s still an American, and he’s still warranted the basic American principle of Innocent Until Proven Guilty. Because if we don’t live by our principles, then what were we fighting for over there? I fought, I’ve been there, and it’s these basic principles that men and women have fought and died for. It’s moments like these which test our country most.

–Photo: U.S. Army/Flickr

Best Of, Politics / News, Politics / News

VA Scandal – Veterans Dying on Waiting List. What does it mean?

May 27, 2014February 24, 2016 Michael Anthony

Iraq War veteran Michael Anthony discusses the latest VA crisis and what it means for veterans and the United States.

You may have seen the story in your Facebook newsfeed, or read about it in your newspaper, online or off, or heard about it on the news, but wherever you first heard about it, it’s a big deal. Veterans, U.S. Service members, have been dying while waiting for their appointments at the VA. The inciting incident happened at a Phoenix VA where 40 veterans died while waiting for medical care. Sick people die all the time, even veterans, so what the hell then is the big deal? Well, the big deal is that these veterans suffered this fate because employees at the VA were encourages to falsify waiting list documents. The VA had even sent out a memo with tips and tricks on gaming the system and how to “get off the bad boy’s list.”

These were “Isolated incidences,” according to Eric Shinseki, head of the VA. Shinseki went on to say,

“What I want veterans to know … this is a good, quality healthcare system, not perfect, and when we stumble across our imperfections we’re going to do something about it, we get to the bottom of it, and to the best of our abilities assure it never happens again.”

“If we’re risking our lives over there, then America needs to let us know, and help remind us, who and what it was that we fought for.”

Imagine if tomorrow a commander were leading a mission through the mountains of Afghanistan and he lost forty troops! What do you think it would mean? Well, in modern warfare, the loss of forty American troops in one mission, is huge! Most likely a loss that large, this late in the game, would mean that someone screwed up … big time. The commander would be investigated, it would be front page of the newspaper, congress would get involved, etc. And that’s in WAR where there’s an actual enemy trying to kill you. These veterans died at HOME where they’re supposed to be safe and be helped. Who then is the enemy? Shinseki? No, only through negligence. Then Who? Well, that’s less clear, and less defined, but ultimately, the enemy is us.

The problem with the VA, and which often accompanies mistakes this large, is lack of a clear mission. Congress gives the order “Get the waitlists down,” so Shinseki gets the waitlists numbers down. But he does so in a shady manner. That is lack of a clear mission. The goal isn’t to get waitlists down, it’s to serve veterans. A directive needs to be clearer than that, and that is where I believe the problem lies. In order to fix the VA we need a clear idea on exactly what needs to be fixed, and then we need a clear directive and mission to accomplish. A mission that cannot be accomplished with the mere fudging of numbers, but a mission that takes blood sweat and tears to accomplish. Because that’s what veterans give on the battlefield, and it’s the type of ethos they deserve back home.

“Well shit is broken, and we bought it, and it’s time to fix it!”

It is instances like this, which, in my opinion, lead to such high instances of PTSD in veterans. When a veteran joins the military and goes off and fights a war he’s basically making a transaction: “I’m willing to risk my life for my country. For my brothers and sisters and the ideals we all hold dear.” But here’s the problem. A deal like this is a two-way-street. If we’re risking our lives over there, then America needs to let us know, and help remind us, who and what it was that we fought for. Because instances like this, make it harder to see what the hell it was we were fighting for, and make it harder to deal with the shit we’ve seen.

A close friend of mine had to wait sixteen months before becoming approved for his VA disability. During those sixteen months he had to take out loans and increase his credit card debt in order just to pay off his private medical bills. One incident is too many. I remember a story of a military commander who worked as a safety commander in the army and his job was to decrease on-the-job accidents. At one point, the new base he was assigned got a 98% safety rating. It was the highest safety rating any base had ever gotten in the military. The day after the celebration the commander walked in and saw all the soldiers under his command celebrating. Seeing this he got angry and asked his soldiers: “What the hell are you celebrating?” “We got a 98% safety rating,” they exclaimed, “it’s the highest anyone’s ever gotten in the military.” To which the commander responded: “Wipe the smiles off your face and get back to work. That means 2% of our soldiers are still in danger.” Now that, is what being a commander is about.

Shinseki called the death of 40 veterans “Not perfect.” He called the death of 40 veterans under his watch, “Not perfect.” And they died because he taught his people how to “game the system.” It’s less than “not perfect.” It’s a fucking travesty.

What then is the answer? Well, Navy SEAL Marcus Luttrell says that veterans should be given a universal healthcare card “No questions asked.” And what would this mean for universal government run healthcare?

This has nothing to do with the politics of war, Iraq is over, Afghanistan is almost done, and the troops are coming home. The debate is done, the warhawks had their war, and now the peaceniks will, hopefully, get their peace, but that doesn’t change the facts of the situation. As the first President Bush said after withdrawing troops after the Persian Gulf War: “You break it, you bought it.” Well shit is broken, and we bought it, and it’s time to fix it!

–Photo: Chuck Hagel/Flickr

Politics / News

The Intertwining of Music and War: Jack Leroy Tueller

March 1, 2014 Michael Anthony

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Politics / News, Politics / News

Dear Politicians: The 1950’s called. They want their masculinity back.

January 27, 2014February 24, 2016 Michael Anthony

In the hunt for masculinity and being a better man, there is, unfortunately, no escaping the politics associated with “Masculinity.” We often hear politicians bickering back and forth, claiming that one has moor hutzpah than the other (read: bigger balls) and the debates go ad infinitum. This can readily be seen in New Jersey Governor Chris Christie. Christie is a man known for his “bullying tactics,” both in rhetoric and actions. But more than just Christie, it shows the divisive, bullying, trying-to-be-masculine-but-not-really, nature that politics has taken.

We hear it all the time—send the troops to war, invade this country, invade that country, but the politician with the strong so-called “Masculine” demeanor is never the one doing the fighting, they’re just the one sending people to do the fighting. Yet, it’s these politicians who talk a big-game who are often referred to as “Masculine.” Case in point, again: Chris Christie. Brit Hume, a political analyst for Fox News, described Christie as an, “old fashioned masculine muscular guy.” Christie is the same politician who once verbally berated decorated Navy SEAL William Brown. Christie called Brown an “idiot,” and had him escorted out of a town hall debate.

Let me repeat that… Chris Christie had a decorated Navy SEAL escorted out of a public town hall debate and referred to the guy as an “idiot.”

Now, obviously, a Navy SEAL cannot actually be bullied by the likes of Chris Christie, but it’s the fact of the matter that such a political culture exists where we have politicians trying to bully SEALs, because they may not agree with their “Masculine,” ideas and politics. After being escorted out of the building William Brown even had this to say about Christie: “I think he’s a bully sometimes.”

A veteran, someone who has put his life on the line for his country, is talked down to by who… a politician. And the politician is the one being described as an “old fashioned masculine muscular guy.” Too often nowadays we mistake loud voices for strong voices. We mistake the politics of “wanting to go to war,” with the strength that it actually takes to “fight in a war.” The ones who want to take away help for the poor are laundered through the media as “tough,” and “fatherly,” while the ones who want to help the poor are described as “weak,” and “babying.”

Now, the whole point of this isn’t merely to berated Christie as a bully, but it just so happens that he is the epitome of the so-called “masculine-politics” that’s being pushed on us by the media. Which brings us to the video.

In this video, Bill Maher tears apart the so-called “masculinity” that politicians are trying to portray these days. The video starts off with a topical discussion about President Obama stating that he wouldn’t want his kid to play in the NFL, and then quickly dives into Christie and the other divisive nature of masculine-politics. Enjoy!