On War and Violence

Last Friday, I saw the movie Platoon for the first time. My boyfriend and I have a list of all movies that have won a Best Picture Academy Award since they started giving the award in 1927, and we’re on a mission to watch as many of these movies as possible. Platoon was the winner in 1986.

I thought it was a very good movie, and I especially enjoyed Willem Dafoe in his role. (Which is not surprising … I’m always impressed with him.) I liked the theme of “good vs. evil, but what is really good and what is really evil?” And the images of war were well drawn.

One thing that disturbed me, and that always disturbs me in war movies like this one, is the depiction of violence for the sake of violence. In one scene, a young soldier is shown taking a sick satisfaction and enjoyment in torturing a Vietnamese man. A scene soon after shows (in graceful lack of detail) soldiers lined up to rape two Vietnamese girls. Scenes like this absolutely turn my stomach and they make me think—what kind of person would participate in this kind of activity? And more so—can war drive an otherwise normal, reasonable person to this madness of violence and lack of respect for fellow human beings? Basically, is the action the consequence of the person alone (their lack of morality, their cruelty), or is the action the consequence a person caught up in war? I assume it is at least to some degree the former, because there are also moral heroes in war, people who put a stop to such violence when they encounter it. (As did Dafoe’s character in this movie.)

This thought pattern led me to think further … As I watch the movie, I’m rooting for the “good guys” … Dafoe, Charlie Sheen’s character, and the group of soldiers with whom they’re associated. Are there people who watch the same movie and root for the “bad guys?” Are there people who secretly (or not very secretly) think—that’s how I would act, as well—killing, raping. And what’s wrong with that?

I know that in the Vietnam war there was so much more than good vs. evil. Going into a village, a group of American soldiers could be met with entirely innocent Vietnamese people, or they could be met with enemies in disguise. And it was difficult to impossible to know which was which. They saw friends and allies dying, and I imagine so much rage and hatred built up in them toward the Vietnamese. I don’t mean to neglect or downplay these facts in my discussion above of violence. I’m just using this movie as an example of something that has always disturbed me—in many movies and books, about the Vietnam war, other wars, and other circumstances. It’s a violence that I cannot fathom. It’s a violence that makes me wonder what is wrong with our world.