In Dexter Filkins’ "The Forever War," we look through the eyes of a journalist and glimpse the devastating worlds of Iraq and Afghanistan during the rise of the Taliban, the aftermath of 9/11 and the American deployment there. Filkins weaves this eye-opening and heart-wrenching tale in a compilation of stories and accounts recorded while he was stationed there. Fraught with unfiltered emotion and uncompromising grit, this book showcases not only the lives of soldiers, citizens, insurgents and diplomats, but also offers an example of the most top notch investigative reporting. Braving countless gunfights, personal tragedies, feral animals and volatile split personalities, Filkins dives into a hornet’s nest of confusion and danger to give us a better understanding of what modern day terror truly looks like.
As I finished the final sentence and closed the cover on this sensational tale, I became utterly convinced of the validity of “ignorance is bliss.” If you choose to pick up this book, which I highly recommend doing, know that it will not be an easy or fun read. "The Forever War" is a piece of literary excellence that will make you challenge every preconceived notion you might have had on America’s involvement in the Middle East, the seeming ungratefulness of the Iraqi people and whether toppling Saddam was truly for the best.
If you are content with relying on second-hand accounts of what is happening in Iraq and Afghanistan, do not pick up this book. If you believe American politicians know what’s best for governing and recovering these countries, do not pick up this book. And if you believe that money is the source of all solutions, do not pick up this book. Your ignorance is bliss. If you wish to understand the complex dynamics of a war torn region soaking in pain brought about by religious extremism, blind patriotism and unchecked greed however, this is the book for you.
The picture Filkins paints of the tumultuous Middle East is truly terrifying in the most gripping way. With death on nearly every page, I often found myself at once enthralled and repulsed by its brutal reality. From the online streaming of a decapitation of American captive, Nicholas Berg, by Sunni guerrillas, to fervent jihadists self-destructing in hospitals and police stations, there is no shortage of “Allaha’s wrath.”
Compounding this terror, is crime perpetrated by Iraq’s supposed saviors. Children shot down by American troops for simply being in the way, and the bombings of peaceful neighborhoods in order to catch that one pesky insurgent are only two examples of America’s help. Atrocity and depravity seep through the pages of "The Forever War" in a way that haunts the conscious, and I admit I often had to put the book down to catch my breath. Not since John Green’s, "Looking for Alaska," have I shed a tear while reading a book, yet the repetitive and often senseless violence Filkins documents was enough to make me want my mother in the worst way.
Despite the white-knuckle frustration and unease one has while reading "The Forever War," Filkins masterfully includes moments of hope and levity to remind us of the strength and resolve of the human spirit. Amidst the skeleton of the once great Kabul InterContinental Hotel, the manager Ahmed cracks a joke. In the famished Afghan region surrounding Bamiyan, an impoverished man offers Filkins his last slice of bread. A 68-year old Zahra Khafi announces, “I’m not afraid of Saddam anymore.” Men once on opposite sides embrace and say, “How are you, my friend?” Tender instances like these litter the book and emphasize that even amongst the most heinous and violent evil, laughter and love make their presence known.
The thing I find most impressive about "The Forever War" is Filkins’ uncanny ability to show us the situation, rather than telling us about it. His personal opinions on the events surrounding him are often kept secret, he instead presents the situation that occurred in a factual, yet beautifully descriptive manner. One section in particular captures this scenario perfectly.
Filkins and his colleague, Ashley, want to get a picture of a dead insurgent atop a minaret. The area, a section of southern Falluja, west of Baghdad, is assumed to be devoid of hostiles, as a 2,000-pound bomb leveled nearly everything. As they are about to ascend the stairs leading to the body, two marines step in front of them and announce they’ll go first. As Lance Corporal William L. Miller takes the lead up the stairs, his face is split in two when a hidden insurgent atop the stairs fires immediately. Filkins describes this scene with an emotional detachment I assume is necessary for his sanity. What he details next is something the most engaging movie cannot replicate. Marines scream for their friend, “Miller! Miller!” He shifts focus on the to-and-fro rocking of Ashley as he murmurs, “It’s my fault. It’s my fault,” stuck in the fetal position. He pans back to the marines as they relentlessly pound the building with heavy artillery fire, all the while attempting to retrieve their fallen comrade.
What is one photo worth? A bullet to the face? The loss of a friend? Filkins writes this in a way that leaves it up to the reader to decide whether it was their actions that cost Miller his life. Two quotes he documents from separate battalion leaders offer the two most common responses: “It’s a war. That’s what happens in war,” and, “Yeah, it was your fault.”
"The Forever War" is so much more than informative, it is enlightening. Filkins manages to highlight the struggle and complexity of all parties involved, from the Iraqi people’s multifarious feelings for Americans, to militant Islam’s knee-jerk reaction towards the capture of Saddam -- Iraq and Afghanistan are brought to life in a way that makes visualizing the strife in this area easier for the average American. I do not know if I will ever read it again. I do not know if I could read it again, yet I’m glad I read it. Filkins has shown me a world ruled by fear and entropy, yet through this chaos, life and love still grow through the cracks.
