Those of us fortunate enough not to experience war can only really get a sense of war from the stories told by those who do. Without these voices, we might easily forget the real costs of these “conflicts”—conflicts that are so sanitized in our national rhetoric that we can easily forget that the war is real, that it is complicated and dangerous, and that it is fought by real people. This seems particularly true of Iraq and Afghanistan, wars that have gone on for so long, and that have required so comparatively little from the American people, that they have become mundane. We begin to measure them in weeks, then months, and then years, when the realities of war for those who experience it can be measured in seconds.
What’s equally as troubling about Iraq and Afghanistan is not only the ethical implications of glossing over the sacrifices of war in a two-minute news blurb (or in a publicity stunt on an aircraft carrier deck), but the way in which the fears that fuel these wars have been used to convince us that the violations of international law, human rights standards, and even our own constitution are justifiable. Moreover, our own leaders have told us, torture is not simply justified, but necessary as we fight for our cause.
These realities about our national character are what make Matthew Alexander so important.
Alexander’s first book How to Break a Terrorist chronicled the hunt and capture of Abu al-Zarqawi, and the war as it is, arguably, most precisely and effectively fought: in the interrogation room. It was fast, and thrilling. And it was immense in its courage to publish despite governmental censure and pressures against showing the ways in which torture works against us, and not for us.
Kill or Capture, Alexander’s second book, builds on Terrorist not only in the continued search for high-level targets, but also in its storytelling. While Kill or Capture is, like its predecessor, a fast and thrilling story, it also seems like a more mature book with a more developed and more thoughtful narrative voice. It makes real the pressures—physical, mental, emotional—that work on the most human level during war. The book balances the full scope of war: the personal story, the larger conflict, the even larger philosophical issues at stake in both the personal and political. And it does so in a way that is both convincing and compelling.
Not that this is why my grandfather likes the book. He likes it for the trill of the chase and the victories we can celebrate in a war. And the book is thrilling and victorious. But this book is most compelling not in the fast and breathless moments of action (and they are breathless), but in those still moments where we are reminded of the humanness of war: that the soldier next to you cheers for a different soccer team, that the interpreter risks his life and stills his prejudices so that you can be understood, and that the person who is your enemy is, in fact, a person.
Above all it is a book that shows us that our character—personal and national—is defined in our moments of greatest fear and stress. It is a book about the hearts and minds not of our enemies, but of ourselves.