Oxeyes Tears Over Weeping Camel: No More War Moms

The pace of the film alone...is a good challenge for most anti-war activists.

I will intentionally avoid touching upon the usual aspects that are de rigueur for film criticism, and focus primarily on a Camel connection I see with the American Friends Service Committee’s "Eyes Wide Open" exhibit...which arrived in Escondido on Thursday.

Giving the local sunsplashed park the quiet, somber mood of a cemetery (just northeast of San Diego, from which the exhibit was forced to move) passers-by can see 1,513 pairs of black military boots laid out in rows...stretching longer than a football field. The boots are from surplus stores, but they represent dead Americans...who were supposedly trying...to serve.

Some approve heartily of the pacifists’ presentation, including some families of fallen U.S. soldiers (like Cindy Sheehan of Vacaville featured in the link below). But others offer up a different take:

"How can I be against the war when this is what my son went to do?" she asked. "And you know what, he succeeded on the Sunday when the Iraqis voted." [2]

This reminds me very much of what Elvis Mitchell says about the documentary-like narrative I love:

"The filmmakers have actually made a movie about a pale and needy newborn camel whose mother ignores it." [3]

The Oscar nominee for Best Foreign Film of 2005 is about much more, of course. But this point concerning a mother’s rejection of offspring is my focus here. To wit, one can draw a parallel between an animal that refuses to let her calf nurse...condemning it to a painful, undignified death in the desert to what mothers do when they send their sons and daughters off to war. It is not the slightest bit of a stretch for me.

In fact, I’d go as far as saying that until readers can enthusiastically embrace the notion, nothing much will be achieved in the anti-war movement. For the contrasts that can be pointed out between the two situations are all virtually founded on the deadly misconception that our military personnel have a raison d’etre which serves our mutual interests. They do not.

On July 24th, 2004, Jeannette Catsoulis reviewed the film:

"On one level, The Story of the Weeping Camel is a deceptively simple melodrama. The birth itself is harrowing, and the fragile colt, named Botok, bleats pitiably as the mother snaps at him and runs away. His attempts to suckle, assisted by the family, provoke violent snorting and kicking from the visibly enraged female; watching her haunt the fringes of the herd, or stand alone gazing at the horizon, you would swear you were witnessing a severe case of post-partum depression.

But it’s the family’s subsequent actions that take the film to another, deeper level, beautifully illuminating both the ancient bond between man and animals and our stewardship of the earth itself. Instead of simply continuing to hand-feed Botok, the family decides to perform a traditional ritual to heal the mother. A violinist must be fetched from a settlement 50 kilometers away, and the two youngest boys — the improbably-named Dude and his six-year-old brother, Ugna — are dispatched. On camel, of course.

The ritual itself, and its astonishing outcome, are mesmerizing...." [4]

There is much more to her review...and the film.

And there’s more than one reason given for tears in the cinematic marvel. Both human and animal. But for now...in this piece...it’s only necessary to note that it is said that if the ritual is successful the mother camel will shed tears.

So...if one is going to see the film knowing this...one is cheering for tears, wanting to see a reason for them. Not tears of horror and regret, but tears of reconciliation...advance.

And so it is with the mothers who push their children away. Who send them to gangsters, monsters in their formative years. Depriving them of the nurturing they need. Sending them to No Man’s Land. Where No Man or Woman Should Ever Go. Never Needs to Go. [5]

Look at what one well-intentioned, misguided University of Oregon academic, Simona Sharoni, writes:

"It is not the time, nor our role, to judge or educate these soldiers. They do not need us to tell them that they participated in a futile war, nor to lecture them about the real reasons behind it. Most of them know experienced the futility of this war on their bodies, pondered the lies behind it in their minds and had to fight with anguish, frustration and fear in their hearts, whether they admit it publicly or not. Listening to these stories as difficult as they may be, will enable us to better reach out to and to communicate with those who don’t yet share our sense of urgency to end this war. Further, these personal accounts, shared in private settings, are invaluable because it is such uncensored stories that the mainstream corporate media, which has been embedded with (or rather in-bed-with) military units has failed to share with the public."

This well-meaning rundown avoids the necessary confrontation with the troops. Doesn’t postpone, but avoids...as it’s, at base, a prescription for never getting around to foul-mouthing (sufficiently) the rotten core of the military corps.

Coarse words are in order. To end the war, one doesn’t merely listen to the soldiers...as the title of Sharoni’s article ("To End the War, Listen to the Troops") suggests (http://www.counterpunch.org/sharoni...).

One curses the military, its history and all it stands for. And one takes a stand for Vulnerability over...whatever its polar opposite is...whatever it is that we’re trying to do when we try to protect ourselves definitively from others...try to be on top of what might plague us...what seems to be a threat...what has been a problem...whether that’s related to so-called national security, job security and/or one’s personal health. "Insert that tube in my upper such and such....I might get the virulent form of cancer that ate up Aunt Agatha!"

However, at the same time, we can’t reduce Simona’s troops to some poor put-upon contingent, victims of a System...with no responsibility. If the 2004-05 Savage Professor of Peace Studies wants to sit down with them first, so be it; much to be commended there. But not in lieu of The Confrontation.

Apparitions, aspirations and anxieties must be dealt with without resorting to military means. And the mean-spirited history/nature of our armed forces have to be laid out in no uncertain terms...and put to bed. Bedtime talk with the troops can descend into Hell once again too soon.

I agree with the prof/veteran of the Israeli army...leading peace activist...and (Politics of Women’s Resistance) author Sharoni that "peace demonstrations and public gatherings are not enough to illustrate" the realities of war, "let alone to question the militarization of our foreign policy." But the same must be said of going through the obligatory...listening.

Listen to AWOL the Conscientious Objector rap of Kevin Benderman (http://www.democracynow.org/article...) and contrast it with the parting words of journalist Kathy Dobie...who wrote the cover story for this month’s issue of Harper’s magazine titled "AWOL in America: When Desertion is the Only Option." Those of you who can actually see the interview online will detect a world of difference between Kevin’s uncompromising stance and Kathy’s parting recommendation that we make the military smaller, recruit less.

Her hit solves a few particulars felt among the gravediggers, not the toxic stench of Graveyard America. [6]

All of the bones above that I’ve been picking over are related to mother Dorreen Yellow Bird’s anguish (http://www.counterpunch.org/bird031...). If you want to address the astounding suicide rate of our young, as she does, now that it’s finally achieved a very special status ("According to national statistics, suicide is the third-leading cause of death among 15- to 25-year-olds.")...I recommend that we all become Mothers Withholding Vaginas, Mouths and Anal Orifices. No Vagina Dialogues. [7]

It is time to use new words. Take a new angle. Adopt a different attitude. [8]

Tell all the mothers you know, if you will, to not let the loving ones go. They must weep like the camel.