George Bush: Western Hero?
President George W. Bush does resemble characters from classic American Western films, but not the characters Victor Davis Hanson cites in his August 7, 2006 National Review essay. In the 1960s, when the Axis of Evil was Moscow-Beijing-Hanoi, Bush was no Will Kane (Gary Copper in High Noon). He was closer to Billy Irvine (John Hurt) in Heaven’s Gate. Both went to elite schools, both had drinking problems. Because of their clan affiliations (Wyoming Stock Growers Association and Texas Republicanism, respectively) Irvine and Bush were expected to participate in a “limited war,” while their privilege allowed them to avoid carrying a rifle in the front lines.
In his relationship to his father (historical rather than familial), Bush resembles the intemperate epigoni of post-war cinema: Emperor Commodus (Christopher Plummer) in The Fall of the Roman Empire, Jere Torrey (Brandon DeWilde) in In Harm’s Way, Kyle Hadley (Robert Stack) in Written on the Wind, George Eastman (Montgomery Clift) in A Place in the Sun. Through a mixture of rebellion and failure, these troubled men reject and/or fall short of the legacies of their heroic empire-builder fathers. These pre-youth culture characterizations express the Greatest Generation’s doubts that the Next Generation was worthy of taking the reins.
Bush particularly resembles Dave Waggoman (Alex Nicol) in Anthony Mann’s The Man From Laramie. Alec Waggoman (Donald Crisp) is part of a greatest generation who forged vast estates in the Wild West, just as George H.W. Bush was part of the Greatest Generation that won World War II and established the American Century. Alec, also like Bush Sr., prefers détente and realpolitik with neighboring Indian tribes. Alec fought Indians to get his land, but he came to learn to live with them. But young Dave wants to expand the empire and he recklessly provokes conflict with Indians to do so. Likewise, Bush wants to end tyranny in the world (which should be translated as “forced Westernization”) and has dragged America into an endless war in Iraq. Dave’s secret, renegade arming of Indians is an apt allegory of the Bush clan’s longtime business alliance with Wahabist Arabs in Saudi Arabia and support for Saddam Hussein during the Iran-Iraq War (the Michael Moore thesis).
Bush has been no Will Kane in the War on Terror, either. Just as the people of Hadleyville downplayed the threat of the Miller Gang in High Noon, the Bush Administration downplayed the threat of Al Qaeda in favor of a non-existent missile threat from North Korea. In 2000, Richard Clarke, George Tenet and Sandy Berger played the “alarmist” Will Kane role, not Bush. On September 11 Bush wasn’t John Wayne, but Jim Averill (Kris Kristofferson) in Heaven’s Gate. Just as Averill gets sufficient intelligence but fails to prevent a mercenary attack on Johnson County, Wyoming, the Bush Justice Department had the terrorists in their sights but failed to act. When Averill is informed of the actual attack, he dithers, taking time to shave, dress, and pack while the common folk of Johnson County say “let’s roll” and meet the invaders head on. Obviously, we don’t expect a President to personally fight terrorists, but when Bush was informed of the attacks he rather overdid it and played school marm. He sat immobile, staring ahead blankly like the somnambulant gunmen in the opening sequence of Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West.
In his management of the Iraq War, Bush is starting to resemble Lt. Col. Owen Thursday (Henry Fonda) in Fort Apache. Bush, like Thursday, runs a tight ship and has an impressive pedigree but lacks sufficient practical knowledge of the enemy and, puffed up with righteousness, leads his troops into ambush and massacre. Director John Ford, however, believed that the need for sustaining myth transcends historical fact. Col. York (John Wayne) says of Thursday; “No one died with more honor or courage.” Here, The National Review plays the John Wayne role, showering Bush with unearned praise. The National Review and other conservatives (save Pat Buchanan) adhere to the famous stricture articulated by the journalist in The Man Who Shot Liberty Vance; “This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”
Bush’s continued assertion that the Iraq War has sometime to do with terrorism (in his view, decreasing it) is becoming less credible by the day. We can hear America, paraphrasing Walter Brennan in Red River, saying “You wuz wrong, Mister Bush, You wuz wrong.” Bush sounds increasingly like a man brainwashed by his own propaganda—willfully blind, defensive. He is starting to sound like the pompous Frank Canton (Sam Waterston) in Heaven’s Gate.
Bush’s use of stock Western phrases in discussing war has been widely noted, but a more subtly and interesting reliance on Western movie conventions can be detected in Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld. In 2004 Rumsfeld described the battle of Fallouja in terms of a Western showdown. “Success in Fallouja will deal a blow to the terrorists in the country, and should move Iraq further from a future of violence to one of freedom and opportunity for the Iraqi people.” Rumsfeld’s use of the word “should” is crucial here. Just as the deaths of the villains in Shane or The Magnificent Seven “should" open the way for a better life for humble homesteaders (the films ends before this transformation is fully realized--we don’t need to see it and safely assume it) defeating the insurgents in Fallouja “should” lead to better lives for Iraqis.
At best Bush resembles Jeff Webster (Jimmy Stewart) in Mann’s The Far Country. Webster is a taciturn frontier prospector who continually avoids getting involved in community problems. Webster anticipates our contemporary conservatism which seeks to starve the public realm and shrink community down to the size of the individual. Just as Bush promised during his first Presidential campaigned to pursue a more humble and realistic foreign policy in contrast to Clinton’s costly humanitarian interventions (such as the failed Somali mission), Webster wants to stay out of other’s conflicts and take care of himself.
But after Webster is beaten by the minions of a corrupt frontier sheriff and Webster’s sidekick is murdered (his own, personal 9-11), Webster is shaken out of his isolationism and decides to take on the evil-doers. Webster also gets a boost from the bravery of others. A roused and armed citizenry (the type of citizen-militia the National Rifle Association constantly evokes) rush to Webster’s aid at the last minute (the equivalent of post-9-11 patriotism and Presidential approval). Even with his bravery, though, Webster is no Will Kane, Ethan Edwards, or Tom Doniphon. Webster acts the hero when circumstances force him to. But act he does. Similarly, you may fault Bush for invading Iraq and instituting state torture--like many disillusioned Democrat hawks--but you can't accuse him of dragging his feet on punishing the Taliban and pursuing terrorist networks.
Rumsfeld describes the finale of The Far Country exactly when he makes predictions regarding Iraq; “Over time you’ll find that the process of tipping will take place, that more and more of the Iraqis will be angry about the fact that innocent people are being killed by the extremists…And they’ll want elections, and the more they see the extremists acting against that possibility of elections, I think they’ll turn on those people.” This is the equivalent of the townspeople rising up and joining Webster to oppose the evil sheriff. In actuality, as the war has dragged on military leaders have turned against Rumsfeld and the American people have turned against Bush.
But the western film sequence that most resembles Bush’s America in the Age of Iraq Unwinnable is the climax of McCabe and Mrs. Miller. John McCabe (Warren Beatty), a gambler and incompetent businessman, has finally discovered the seriousness of purpose that American commentators were moaning about in the late 1990s: he defends himself from corporate assassins seeking to take over his holdings in the frontier town of Presbyterian Church. He is forced to live up to his phony, legendary status as some sort of killer. Like many American soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq, however, McCabe fights and dies in a remote, inhospitable setting, unnoticed by the community he is serving (McCabe’s body is ignominiously covered by a snowdrift, Bush prevents public view of returning war dead). A fire in the town church, like the 9-11 attacks, has stirred and united a previously self-interested collection of individuals into a community with purpose.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Miller (Julie Christy), a successful madam and partner of McCabe’s, lies in bed in an opium-induced daze. She stares, fascinated, at a glazed ceramic egg, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. In the final shot of the film this cheap, unimportant bauble fills the screen, like one of the planets in 2001: A Space Odyssey. While the townspeople outside have said, “Let’s roll,” Mrs. Miller has followed Bush’s advice to keep shopping. The War on Terror should not break our rhythm of constant consumption. Shopping is Freedom. For Mrs. Miller, like the American public today, inert spectatorship has become our most practiced skill and unacknowledged vice. The vast and trivial offerings of the mass media have blocked out the snow and the fire and the violence just outside our windows.
In his relationship to his father (historical rather than familial), Bush resembles the intemperate epigoni of post-war cinema: Emperor Commodus (Christopher Plummer) in The Fall of the Roman Empire, Jere Torrey (Brandon DeWilde) in In Harm’s Way, Kyle Hadley (Robert Stack) in Written on the Wind, George Eastman (Montgomery Clift) in A Place in the Sun. Through a mixture of rebellion and failure, these troubled men reject and/or fall short of the legacies of their heroic empire-builder fathers. These pre-youth culture characterizations express the Greatest Generation’s doubts that the Next Generation was worthy of taking the reins.
Bush particularly resembles Dave Waggoman (Alex Nicol) in Anthony Mann’s The Man From Laramie. Alec Waggoman (Donald Crisp) is part of a greatest generation who forged vast estates in the Wild West, just as George H.W. Bush was part of the Greatest Generation that won World War II and established the American Century. Alec, also like Bush Sr., prefers détente and realpolitik with neighboring Indian tribes. Alec fought Indians to get his land, but he came to learn to live with them. But young Dave wants to expand the empire and he recklessly provokes conflict with Indians to do so. Likewise, Bush wants to end tyranny in the world (which should be translated as “forced Westernization”) and has dragged America into an endless war in Iraq. Dave’s secret, renegade arming of Indians is an apt allegory of the Bush clan’s longtime business alliance with Wahabist Arabs in Saudi Arabia and support for Saddam Hussein during the Iran-Iraq War (the Michael Moore thesis).
Bush has been no Will Kane in the War on Terror, either. Just as the people of Hadleyville downplayed the threat of the Miller Gang in High Noon, the Bush Administration downplayed the threat of Al Qaeda in favor of a non-existent missile threat from North Korea. In 2000, Richard Clarke, George Tenet and Sandy Berger played the “alarmist” Will Kane role, not Bush. On September 11 Bush wasn’t John Wayne, but Jim Averill (Kris Kristofferson) in Heaven’s Gate. Just as Averill gets sufficient intelligence but fails to prevent a mercenary attack on Johnson County, Wyoming, the Bush Justice Department had the terrorists in their sights but failed to act. When Averill is informed of the actual attack, he dithers, taking time to shave, dress, and pack while the common folk of Johnson County say “let’s roll” and meet the invaders head on. Obviously, we don’t expect a President to personally fight terrorists, but when Bush was informed of the attacks he rather overdid it and played school marm. He sat immobile, staring ahead blankly like the somnambulant gunmen in the opening sequence of Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West.
In his management of the Iraq War, Bush is starting to resemble Lt. Col. Owen Thursday (Henry Fonda) in Fort Apache. Bush, like Thursday, runs a tight ship and has an impressive pedigree but lacks sufficient practical knowledge of the enemy and, puffed up with righteousness, leads his troops into ambush and massacre. Director John Ford, however, believed that the need for sustaining myth transcends historical fact. Col. York (John Wayne) says of Thursday; “No one died with more honor or courage.” Here, The National Review plays the John Wayne role, showering Bush with unearned praise. The National Review and other conservatives (save Pat Buchanan) adhere to the famous stricture articulated by the journalist in The Man Who Shot Liberty Vance; “This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”
Bush’s continued assertion that the Iraq War has sometime to do with terrorism (in his view, decreasing it) is becoming less credible by the day. We can hear America, paraphrasing Walter Brennan in Red River, saying “You wuz wrong, Mister Bush, You wuz wrong.” Bush sounds increasingly like a man brainwashed by his own propaganda—willfully blind, defensive. He is starting to sound like the pompous Frank Canton (Sam Waterston) in Heaven’s Gate.
Bush’s use of stock Western phrases in discussing war has been widely noted, but a more subtly and interesting reliance on Western movie conventions can be detected in Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld. In 2004 Rumsfeld described the battle of Fallouja in terms of a Western showdown. “Success in Fallouja will deal a blow to the terrorists in the country, and should move Iraq further from a future of violence to one of freedom and opportunity for the Iraqi people.” Rumsfeld’s use of the word “should” is crucial here. Just as the deaths of the villains in Shane or The Magnificent Seven “should" open the way for a better life for humble homesteaders (the films ends before this transformation is fully realized--we don’t need to see it and safely assume it) defeating the insurgents in Fallouja “should” lead to better lives for Iraqis.
At best Bush resembles Jeff Webster (Jimmy Stewart) in Mann’s The Far Country. Webster is a taciturn frontier prospector who continually avoids getting involved in community problems. Webster anticipates our contemporary conservatism which seeks to starve the public realm and shrink community down to the size of the individual. Just as Bush promised during his first Presidential campaigned to pursue a more humble and realistic foreign policy in contrast to Clinton’s costly humanitarian interventions (such as the failed Somali mission), Webster wants to stay out of other’s conflicts and take care of himself.
But after Webster is beaten by the minions of a corrupt frontier sheriff and Webster’s sidekick is murdered (his own, personal 9-11), Webster is shaken out of his isolationism and decides to take on the evil-doers. Webster also gets a boost from the bravery of others. A roused and armed citizenry (the type of citizen-militia the National Rifle Association constantly evokes) rush to Webster’s aid at the last minute (the equivalent of post-9-11 patriotism and Presidential approval). Even with his bravery, though, Webster is no Will Kane, Ethan Edwards, or Tom Doniphon. Webster acts the hero when circumstances force him to. But act he does. Similarly, you may fault Bush for invading Iraq and instituting state torture--like many disillusioned Democrat hawks--but you can't accuse him of dragging his feet on punishing the Taliban and pursuing terrorist networks.
Rumsfeld describes the finale of The Far Country exactly when he makes predictions regarding Iraq; “Over time you’ll find that the process of tipping will take place, that more and more of the Iraqis will be angry about the fact that innocent people are being killed by the extremists…And they’ll want elections, and the more they see the extremists acting against that possibility of elections, I think they’ll turn on those people.” This is the equivalent of the townspeople rising up and joining Webster to oppose the evil sheriff. In actuality, as the war has dragged on military leaders have turned against Rumsfeld and the American people have turned against Bush.
But the western film sequence that most resembles Bush’s America in the Age of Iraq Unwinnable is the climax of McCabe and Mrs. Miller. John McCabe (Warren Beatty), a gambler and incompetent businessman, has finally discovered the seriousness of purpose that American commentators were moaning about in the late 1990s: he defends himself from corporate assassins seeking to take over his holdings in the frontier town of Presbyterian Church. He is forced to live up to his phony, legendary status as some sort of killer. Like many American soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq, however, McCabe fights and dies in a remote, inhospitable setting, unnoticed by the community he is serving (McCabe’s body is ignominiously covered by a snowdrift, Bush prevents public view of returning war dead). A fire in the town church, like the 9-11 attacks, has stirred and united a previously self-interested collection of individuals into a community with purpose.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Miller (Julie Christy), a successful madam and partner of McCabe’s, lies in bed in an opium-induced daze. She stares, fascinated, at a glazed ceramic egg, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. In the final shot of the film this cheap, unimportant bauble fills the screen, like one of the planets in 2001: A Space Odyssey. While the townspeople outside have said, “Let’s roll,” Mrs. Miller has followed Bush’s advice to keep shopping. The War on Terror should not break our rhythm of constant consumption. Shopping is Freedom. For Mrs. Miller, like the American public today, inert spectatorship has become our most practiced skill and unacknowledged vice. The vast and trivial offerings of the mass media have blocked out the snow and the fire and the violence just outside our windows.
posted by John P. Garry at 6:16 PM
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