anthrobattle
It is surprising to note that very little has been written about the nature of
battle. Encylopedias mention only conflicts of historical significance and
their impacts, but do not venture to consider the metaphysics of battle.
Similarly, tomes chronicling great battles in history or detailing military
strategy for past and future clashes and the art of war fail to analyze the
nature of battle or the general reasons behind it in the first place.
As Maurice Keen said of chivalry, "[it] is an evocative word, conjuring up
images in the mind -- of the knight fully armed, perhaps with the crusaders'
red cross sewn upon his surcoat; of martial adventures in strange lands; of
castles with tall towers and of the fair women who dwelt in them. It is also,
for that very reason, a word elusive of definition" (1984:1).
Perhaps, then, like chivalry, battle is an idea so suffused with meaning that
a definition is impossible, and that is why a concrete explanation fo what
battle means is so hard to find. Perhaps it would be easier to examine what
words and images the thought of battle evokes.
Stories, legends, films, pictures, and even collective memories have
contributed much to the image of battle that I'm sure most westerners carry
around with them today: set in a desert, an open field, the jungles of
Vietnam, or even far-off planets, battles seem to carry the same weight, no
matter how big or how small, or even where they are situated. There is a
smell of gun smoke and fire and decay, or a sound of metal on metal and
screaming and the smell of blood. It is dirty and noisy and confusing and
disorganized and terrifying. Modern war, with its rules of engagement and
government protocol, its opposing forces sitting comfortably thousands of
kilometers back from harm's way, is positively sterile by comparison. The
battle we carry with us in our minds is immediate and personal, whereas the
methods practiced today are detached and anonymous. Battle is won and lost by
those who fight it, not by those behind the desk or by the threat of someone
in front of a red button buried in the mountains of Colorado.
Battle's result is determined by the actions of those directly involved in it,
those who are engaged in armed one-on-one combat with their foe. The one who
demonstrates the most skill, dexterity, and strength of character will be the
victor, even if it is only a moral victory. The one who does not display
physical, mental, or moral strength will be vanquished. With victory comes
status, honor, and power, and with defeat comes poverty and shame. Honor, and
its associated masculinity and virility, can be won or lost in the course of a
battle, which can incorporate anything from a barroom brawl to a duel to a
full-out war.
An honorable and masculine man (because women fighters do not figure
prominently in the literature) will do what it takes to defend his honor, even
if it costs him his life. In deference to this, most battles are fought in
accordance with a code of honor that ensures both opponents have a fair
fighting chance.
When people watched battles of yor, be they mock battles or tournaments or
deadly duels, what did they think and feel? Did they marvel at the power one
opponent had over the other, with the ability to wound, maim, or kill, in a
split second? Did they empathize with the fear and anger and instinct for
self-preservation that the combatants themselves were certainly feeling? When
it was over, did they feel relieved? Was watching someone else's power over
life and death come to a conclusion cathartic?
Perhaps that is why ritual battles exist today. The magnitude of real war is
too far off and too disconnected for anyone to feel anything by horror for the
atrocities those involved have committed. Commencing a battle on a small
scale seems to ensure that some measure of control remains on the part of the
spectator and the participants. Setting up a system of rules for the battles,
similar to the codes of conduct that existed before, helps enforce that sense
of control.
Perhaps it is the nostalgic in all of us that insists on recreating an aspect
of violence and conflict that we as a species have supposedly outgrown. Maybe
it is a desire for times that were simpler and all problems could be solved
with a battle between those who were directly involved in the contest, and not
innocents who happened to get in the way. A time when honor actually meant
something and people were not so constrained with the politics of daily
existence that the individual could not do absolutely anything that he set his
mind to. A time when there actually
was such a thing as the
individual, instead of the modern-day, one-among-many, number-but-no-name
mentality in which the majority of westerners exist. When battle was still
something that was real and tangible, and so was actually able to
accomplish something.
I see, more than I did before, how professional sports are the ritual battles,
the visits to the Coliseum, of the modern western individual. They are
legends played out by real people, enabling the spectator to identify with the
players and feel, for once, like who he is really matters, even if only for
the duration of the game. It goes back to my reading of Pierre Bourdieu, and
whis writings on
involvement and
illusio, and how those who are
truly invested in the game believe without a doubt that they have an impact on
the result, and will do anything within their capacity to keep the game
going. It ties in to my readings for one of my tutorials about fandom and
collective action, where contests between two teams become metaphors for
full-scale national uprisings and politico-religious upheaval.
And hockey, hockey is the metaphor taken to the existential. Santized and
utterly smooth, sealed in glass and ice and painted in white, blue, read, and
black, hockey is so abstract as to be wholly disconnected from the dirt and
grit of the battles of long ago. But I think it is more a reflection of our
society's changing tastes and our new desire for all that is clean and tidy
that has made hockey what it is.
Conversely, of the professional sports played today, hockey still retains all
the elements of brutality that can be seen on the battlefield -- if anything,
hockey has become even more violent, which I see as a sign that, despite its
clean lines and shiny exterior, it represents a stronger desire in today's
society to become more in touch with individualism and bodily experience.
Strapped into plastic armor and equipped with plastic sticks (a reflection of
the current obsession with synthetics?), hockey players sail around the ice on
the only real blades they are allowed as they try as hard as they can to kill
each other without breaking the codes of honor. Broken bones, concussions,
and lacerations are all acceptable if they fall within the rules. Infractions
are dealth with by engaging in the hockey player's duel: the fist fight. In
the fight, each player tries his hardest to win the fight without actually
doing any serious harm to his opponent. Mutual respect is accorded among
those men who fight by the rules. These are the real men. They have retained
that aspect of honor and masculinity that today's men have lost.
Posted by Ally at February 15, 2006 05:54 PM