Male Dramas

August 30, 2022

As I prepare to visit the Little Big Horn battlefield in Montana next week, I find myself wondering why I’m drawn to scenes of great violence.

I’ve never played video games, violent or otherwise, and I avoid crime stories on TV or in newspapers. But I’ve been fascinated by the war in Ukraine, and I loved the movie Top Gun: Maverick that I saw at a theater a few days ago.

Perhaps it’s the epic scale of war that intrigues me, with its strategies, tactics, and larger than life generals and heroics. High stakes, high drama, life and death struggles on a massive stage.

I also suspect that, consciously or unconsciously, large-scale conflict gives me the opportunity to be judgemental and opinionated about human behavior. Good vs. evil, writ large, lets me imagine how I’m superior to the bad guys and how I can look up to and emulate the good guys. Or maybe the word “guys” is operative here, since almost all warfare involves competition between men. Combat, real or imagined, might be a way for my psyche to act out masculine dramas. Quien sabe?

In any case, although I’m looking forward to September hiking in the magnificent Glacier, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton national parks in Montana and Wyoming, it’s the killing fields by the Little Big Horn River that capture my imagination the most. Ever since I was nine years old, the historic clash between Custer and Crazy Horse has exerted a magnetic pull upon my mind.

Interestingly, last week I interviewed a 16-year-old boy and his mother for the national health survey I’ve been working on for several years, and after the mother mentioned that her son enjoys reading history, I asked him what he thought about Custer’s Last Stand. He had never heard of General Custer or Crazy Horse. At first I was surprised by his response, but later, upon further reflection, it made sense. I grew up in the 1950’s and 1960’s, a time when TV and movie Westerns were a major cultural influence in this country, a time when boys played Cowboys and Indians. I don’t know what kinds of movies and TV shows boys watch these days, but I guess that my interest in the Old West is indicative of a generation gap in entertainment and history preferences. At least that 16-year-old’s interest in World War II shows that he and I share a red-blooded American male preference for tales of blood and thunder.

While many Americans used to see George Armstrong Custer as a romantic and brave soldier fighting courageously against overwhelming odds, when I was a boy and young man I hated him. To me at that time, Custer was a vainglorious egomaniac, an invader of Indian lands, a butcher of women and children. Crazy Horse and his fellow Lakota and Cheyenne warriors, on the other hand, were defending their large village camped on the banks of the Little Big Horn. In my view, there was nothing heroic about Custer’s 7th Cavalry attacking unarmed women, children, and old people, whereas there was nobility in the efforts of Crazy Horse and comrades to protect their families and people and defend their lands from invasion.

And yet…

The Lakota Sioux warriors were human beings, not paragons of virtue. As the most powerful tribe on the northern plains, they were feared and hated by their Crow, Shoshone, Mandan, and other Indian neighbors, much like the southern plains powerhouse Comanche empire was feared and hated by its Indian neighbors. It seems that human migrations almost always lead to conflict with the people already occupying the lands that the newcomers desire.

So while I offer no excuse for the aggressive behavior of Custer and the U.S. Army, the larger question is, is it possible for migrating peoples to get along with other cultures that they encounter, or is war or other conflict inevitable?

I leave a week from today on a road trip through the mountains and deserts of California, Nevada, Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, and Alberta. I hope to see grizzlies and wolves, though I hope they don’t see me. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll encounter the ghosts of Crazy Horse and Custer, and gain some understanding of and sympathy for the human condition and for the losses that can lead to compassion for suffering people everywhere.

If not, at least I’ll try a buffalo burger.