What’s your favorite Vietnam book, and why? Discuss it in the comments section.
For a long time I thought “Dispatches,” by the journalist Michael Herr, was the greatest book about Vietnam, maybe the greatest book about war, ever. I was young; the only Vietnam book I had read prior to that was Robert McNamara’s “In Retrospect,” which even in my ignorance I understood to be dry and morally wanting.
“Dispatches,” though, was alive with urgency and a writer’s voice that took me head first into the action, then just as rapidly back out, oscillating between stomach-churning scenes of violence and heady, world-upending observations about the nature of the war, about the nature of war generally, in all its disgusting, beautiful complexities.
Maybe it was the timing: It was 1999 and I was fresh out of college, teaching English in a tiny town, vaguely aware that I was the roughly same age as my father when he enlisted in 1967 and roughly the same age as my grandfather when he enlisted in 1942. It was pathetic, I know, but I needed to feel what it was like to go to war, or at least to see war up close.
Herr’s book is like mainlining Vietnam; so many passages conveyed, on their own, everything I thought I needed to know about the war. I remember the first time I came across this passage, which I read again and again, until I’d almost committed it to memory:
“In the months after I got back the hundreds of helicopters I’d flown in began to draw together until they’d formed a collective mega-chopper, and in my mind it was the sexiest thing going: saver-destroyer, provider-waster, right hand-left hand, nimble, fluent, canny and human; hot steel, grease, jungle-saturated canvas webbing, sweat cooling and warming up again, cassette rock and roll in one ear and door-gun fire in the other, fuel, heat, vitality and death, death itself, hardly an intruder.”
That one long sentence has it all: tactile imagery (“jungle-saturated canvas webbing”), pop culture (“cassette rock and roll”), Freudian key words (“vitality and death”), and a C-130’s worth of writerly juxtapositions. If you’re an aspiring young writer and you read that, well, you’re hooked for good.
But I’m older now, and I’m not sure I feel the same about “Dispatches.” I still consider it a fine book. But re-reading it, it feels a bit dated. It’s a masterpiece of New Journalism, and it reads that way — “dig it” is his favorite interjection.
I can’t escape feeling like I’ve been had. Herr is too good a writer; how can I be sure that what he’s describing is true and not just well described? Herr was there, but he wasn’t a soldier; he was a reporter. But while other reporters, like Neil Sheehan, never pretended to be otherwise, Herr writes in a way that sucks you in, makes you feel that he, and maybe you too, are in the combat zone. And he does it with a tone of nihilistic irony, as if to say, nothing matters, except that we can still laugh and cry over how insane this war is. His writing is an amusement park ride, all safe thrills and no risks.
Today my favorite Vietnam book may be Philip Caputo’s “A Rumor of War.” Like “Dispatches,” it is expertly written, full of precisely rendered action scenes and peppered with probing questions about the place of America in a war no one wanted or understood. But unlike Herr, Caputo has no tricks to pull; he is not trying to make you feel like you’re in Vietnam, because he knows that you, the reader, comfortably back home, can never fully understand what it was like to be a Marine in the Central Highlands in 1965.
Caputo enlisted as a Marine in 1965 as a willing member of John Kennedy’s New Frontier army; when he landed at Danang that summer, he believed he was off to join the good fight, as his father’s generation had done. Though built as a conventional, chronological memoir, “A Rumor of War” is about how that idealism became first tarnished, then cracked, then finally demolished by the insanity of the war. But Caputo doesn’t bring you along for the ride the way Herr does. Having fought in Vietnam, he understands that he can never quite explain what it was like; what he can do is convey the terror he confronted while there and use it to challenge his readers’ comfortable, doughy morality. I won’t give away the ending, but suffice it to say that Caputo is challenged, legally and morally, and comes away bruised. But he never loses sight of what is right, and he makes sure the reader doesn’t either.
These are two very different takes on Vietnam, and on war generally. Herr sees a world laid to waste, its values long gone, if they were there to begin with. So turns it into a fairground, with amusement rides built on his humorous, ironic violence and the reader’s desire for more of it. Caputo, the veteran, also sees the Vietnam War as a moral wasteland, but he refuses to believe that all morality is gone. And he refuses to turn the story of Vietnam into a space for showing off New Journalism chops. He is reserved, because he respects what happened there, and while he obviously sees the need to communicate that to readers, he stops well short of trying to make them a part of it.
What’s your favorite Vietnam book, and why? Discuss it in the comments section.
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I had these debates with my students. They would tell me that this or that view or interpretation had to be valid as it was “their” personal view.
The idea behind it was that they were living in a democracy in which we are allowed to entertain any view just as I should be allowed to have my views. That included that they can defend “their personal views as their most original views” - even if they were old stuff in my eyes. They had thought this themselves, and that is why they were right to think that.
Whenever I hear something like this I shrug my shoulders. They can have any view about anything as part of the electorate. As someone who has studied philosophy I am not interested in my students as human beings (I might be interested in them personally as their teacher but that’s not the point here). Nor would I accept a majority vote on any philosophical question.
What I am interested in? I am interested in views as views. I will look at these views and my first question will be: How consistent are these views? What is the theoretical base that could make them consistent?
I see philosophy more like a chess player who has studied lots of historical matches. The brilliant move is worth nothing if it is just your move and if you do not know the next moves that turn it into a brilliant move. It does not turn you into a good chess player if you feel that this is “your move” and if you can demand a right to make this move - you have the right to make it, but the professional player has just as much of a right to wipe you off the board with his interst to understand the complications and the consequences. You have the right to lose - but not the right to enter the field of experts who can discuss the problems.
My students are ready to fail in arguments - and they will tell me: that does not matter, they will still hold that view - not as a particularly good view but as their personal choice as free citizens. I look at these subjects like this man at the Black Knight - he has lost two arms and wants to continue since he has a personal right to continue:
The problem I have as a teacher is usually that my students do not have any original views. They have random selections of views which I can pin down as historical and not so very new. I know the next moves in the game, I know why such a view is inconsistent.
They will claim that this is absolutely without interest - they are looking for their own view and if others had such and such a view before, then they will be happy about the good company. My point is here: If I can tell you that others had this very view: why don’t you try to understand the problems they ran into?
They are not interested in philosophy but in their own rights.
My aim is the student who is not looking for “his” or “her” philosophy like he or she is looking for dress to match his favorite color - good to be used on the favorite occasion - be that a confrontation with enemy theists or good in a personal physical malaise like a cancer diagnosis in which they want to gain super strength from “their philosophy”.
I am looking for a student who can move the debate onto the next level of clarity - not in “his (or her) eyes” but with a statement that will spread this clarity among the other participants of the debate.
Does my expertise give me a better philosophy - one which I can use if doctors tell me that I have cancer? No. I do not do philosophy as a cure for my soul. I study it.
Everybody is a philosopher just as everyone is a mathetician, politician, and historian. Philosophy has five branches to it:
If you have ever wondered if a shirt will look good on you or if something is morally wrong to do or wondered if humans really have free will you were practicing philosophy. At this point there is just one question: are you any good at philosophy? Someone, who has studied philosophy or is a professional philosopher will be more skilful at solving these problems than the average person.
Someone who has studied philosophy will be better at formal logic, thinking through ethical conundrums, and contemplating our place in the universe. These skills may not make the philosopher money but they do lead to a richer interior life.
What makes you think philosophers have any advantage over non-philosophers?
True, they’ve read great minds such as Aristotle, Kant, Kierkegaard, Hume, and many more. But that means they can never again have the pleasure of reading them for the first time! Whereas non-philosophers can. Clearly, the latter has the advantage.
Philosophers can - must - apply their understanding to the society around them. Therefore they feel lost and out of place, because most of it makes no sense. Whereas non-philosophers feel right at home!
Philosophers write thought-provoking answers that are met with no upvotes and massive indifference. Others, however, can write about their latest trip to Wal-Mart, or how annoying Pakistanis can be (although they’re fine people), or the correct pronunciation of “Voldemort” (Is the “t” silent??), or how many universes can teleport onto the head of a pin, or how really annoying fidget spinners can be (they’re sorry, but that’s just the way they feel) - and get thousands of upvotes. Advantage: non-philosophers.
And so on.
Conclusion: the premise of your question is invalid.
The advantage any well-educared and mentally-disciplined philosopher has by virtue of their training is the intellectual confidence to engage in thoughtful discourse with others and to avoid being persuaded by poor reasoning that can be convincing because of the charisma or authority of the speaker. This ability can be developed in other disciplines. It’s a common trait of philosophers, though, because rigorous argumentation and rationality is a standard of the discipline. We don't answer questions in philosophy by taking a poll and finding out what everyone thinks, nor do we conclude an idea is good because it makes money. I’m not saying opinion polls or money are bad things; just that they don't provide the types of answers philosophers seek. Philosophers seek to answer certain kinds of questions that can only be answered with a healthy dose of pure reason.
Having intellectual confidence (apart from being arrogant, egotistical, a stuck-up know-it-all or any other form of superiority about one’s intelligence) is a highly useful skill in a world where a cacophpony of messages from many different groups, including those that have monetary and non-monetary motives, impinges on your mental space daily. You could just say “"screw it, I'll believe what I want,” but that's not actually free-thinking, or a course of action that develops the mental abilities to make effective, thoughtful decisions. It's a life susceptible to being driven by emotion. Many people live this way, but will know far less about the world around them than they could know and dont’t have the reflective capability to assess what's going on in their lives in a way that can lead to change if they want it. Consequently, they get carried along by the tide of life and face the steps of death with lots of regret and remorse.
It is difficult to make money as a philosopher unless you are well known, although you have to become well known first which is even more difficult. Non-philosophers is a broad term because it refers to a vast majority. They can find work in a variety of different fields that require a variety of different skill sets and don't need to put as much work into finding a well paying job, besides going to college, although today, it seems as if you can get a decent paying job without going to college. Although once becoming a well known philosopher, and form original mind boggling theory's, you have a better chance of being remembered for your work, and even honored compared to someone who works a cubicle job their whole life and gets payed a decent wage. So, more recognition comes with philosophy compared to a cubicle, if you are willing to risk money and time for recognition.
Philosophers appear to have mastered the art of critical thinking applicable across many fields. The scope of thought philosophers undertake can be broader then, say, what a scientist would contemplate. For example, morals and ethics are not the domain of Science directly, but often considered in philosophy.
My favorite philosopher is the late Mortimer J Adler. He wrote many accesible books for the arm-chair philosopher such as myself.
I’m going to explain the advantage that philosopher’s have over non-philosophers by describing the number of classes I had to take just to get my undergrad degree (not even a Master’s or PhD — just basic Bachelor of Arts)
Three separate courses on the classic Greek philosophers — Socrates, Plato, Aristotle. Each got their own course. A semester of studying nothing but each of those philosophers.
Classes focusing on different eras of philosophers — Classical philosophers, Renaissance philosophers, English philosophers, American philosophers, Modern philosophers (Post WWII era) Contemporary philosophers (the most recent, some still living)
Ethics 101 — studied John Stuart Mills, Kant, Aristotle (again), Gilligan, and Singer. And that was just the beginners course.
Advanced Ethics, which went into more detailed subjects such as the ethics of political rulings, social and economic justice, and animal rights.
Business Ethics, Medical Ethics, or Legal Ethics — each class focused on the different standards set for different practices in our economy.
After the basics and the ethics classes, there were other classes with the focus on the KINDS of philosophies:
Philosophy of Health (not just medicine, but also the structure of our healthcare system, alternative medicines, the cultures surrounding health and well-being, laws about sick and maternity leave, etc)
Philosophy of Science (starting with Karl Popper and the scientific method, AGAIN looked at Aristotle’s writings, Feyerabend, and Einstein — especially the different ideas regarding science, such as how scientific study had to change when new theories were proposed, such as the Copernican revolution)
Philosophy of Politics (Hegel, Marx and Engels, Rousseau, Hobbes — we spent a whole month of that class discussing how the Haitian revolution influenced world changes, because of the economic impact it had in France, how America benefited, and how it was linked to Marx’s theory of historical materialism)
Philosophy of Art, Religion, even FOOD — I had a Food Philosophy class.
Then, various literature classes — yeah, you couldn’t graduate with a philosophy degree unless you’d fulfilled a certain number of credits in literature classes. Ancient Literature, Medieval Literature, African and Asian Literature, World Lit (which was two semesters and was equal parts literature and history class — we had to learn about the historical placement of each writer, along side what events were occurring in the world around them)
Finally, my school had a class that ALL students were required to take called ‘Search for Meaning’ — it centered around the book ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’ by Viktor Frankl, and his experiences in Nazi Germany’s concentration camps. The course was taught by two instructors — one philosophy and one theology. It was the hardest to pass (I took it twice, before I was allowed to graduate)
So — in answer to the question: What advantages to philosopher’s have that non-philosophers don’t? Philosophy is a part of EVERYTHING we do. Everything you experience, think, believe, desire, and partake in — it’s a part of SOME philosophy, somehow. What do you do, for a living? Whatever it is, a set standard for what that field’s objective and how to accomplish it was established by a philosopher, in some way. What do you like to do, in your leisure time? It’s a philosophy, in some way (even if your choice of leisure is purely pleasure-centric. Remember — Hedonism is a philosophy) Why do you consume the media or products you like? It’s rooted in a value system which had to be thought up by a philosopher. Even the matter of whether you think you have a choice in your actions — the oldest question in the book is whether humans have free will or not.
Philosophers are aware and understand the world they live in. There’s a reason that philosophy used to be required education for ALL students, back in the first schools in Ancient Greece.
There can be many answers to this question, some have already been presented. I choose to illustrate one that may tell more than thousand words.
What if a philosopher was a painter? What advantage does a painter have over non-painters, especially nowadays? Passers by look at the same “ordinary” things but only a painter will sit and ponder how to represent what he sees. Only the painter will realise it is actually a complicated process that requires certain analysis and a right choice of tools, then there has to be a method on how to put step one and two into action. In this sense there is a significant overlap with the philosopher.
What is the advantage then? It lies in the effort that is made. All of a sudden some interesting thoughts come to mind, some previously or unknown or unpredicted problems occur, certain facts come together, other get disconnected, something may get distorted while something else will be sharpened. In the end the outcome may not be the way it seemed at the beginning, which can make matters even more perplexing.
Perhaps it is just a waste of time with all the technology around. Many will certainly agree and don’t even try, some others don’t do it anymore, just like me, but there are still few who somehow get caught up in the painter’s trap and they still paint along with all that is new, they do it for various reasons, even like in the old days, just for the love of it:
Even though I do not do philosophy any more I still get that. What would life be like without interesting surprises? Philosophy may have some for someone who can “capture” them, for any non-philosopher making the effort to make an interesting discovery.
We’re better-looking, stronger, smarter, taller, faster, and all around superior. We regard you mortals with pity and bemusement.
What advantage do philosophers have that non-philosophers don't?
~~~ Less likely to be duped by propaganda/commercials. Less likely to be duped by scams, after all, they have the ability for original critical thought. As such, they are less likely to become infected by every passing ‘belief’.
Philosophers, real philosophers (not the toxic waste drooling from the halls of academe), don’t have to work, if they don’t so ‘choose’. They are intelligent enough to have others do it for them, and like it.
A philosopher is not constantly slammed hither and yon by the various dramas of life as he Knows many Perspectives, and finds himself equidistant from all! (Middle Way!)
The philosopher can name his paycheck with any company, as he can solve almost any problem!
Wisdom, supposedly.
But even that is open to question.
Or you could look at the specific philosopher like anyone else, and see if something unique was accomplished.
Philosophers do tend to be more educated, and are relatively smart even compared to the average college student. But that doesn’t mean they’re a superior ‘race’.
Well, some think they are without implying a particular gender or ethnicity. And some others think they don’t measure up to the sciences.
Such a notion is at best a heuristic.
I would say overall: Problem solving. Mostly technical problems.
Logic. This is why many go into the legal field.
Depends on which line of philosophy they are following:
Some idea of what is going, the meanings of language, the ability to process information in complex ways and some concept of the boundaries between the personal & private, the social, and the mystery of the human problem we all find ourselves faced with.
A philosopher can enjoys an “idea” without agreeing with it.
They have the advantage of being aware of their own ignorance about everything, which may very well make them the wisest folks around, but I don't know this to be true. Socrates certainly asserted something along these lines. I reckon he may have known better than myself though ;)