What's Wrong With Kansans? (Part I)

It seems that post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among troops returning from Iraq and Afghanistan is particularly prevalent among those who grew up in rural areas. And the news is full of stories about the high rate of suicide among returning troops. There seems to be a tidal wave of psychological meltdown and self-destruction coming out of these ill-starred military ventures, and one has to ask why -- i.e. why are these "wars" so much more traumatic, or seemingly so, than more previous ones? This is not to claim that everyone came home hale and hearty from World Wars I and II or Korea, by any means. We have always had "shell shock", and whatever else the authorities called the various "hasn't been quite right since he got home" syndromes. Vietnam seemed to set a new standard for the incidence of trauma, as witness the countless gaping, hollow-eyed Vietnam vets still populating our VA hospitals and roaming the streets of our cities. But now we have Iraq and Afghanistan, and despite the alleged justness of these campaigns, and the nobility of our cause, not to mention the relative low incidence of casualties (at least of the fatal type), the troops are coming home looking and acting like zombies from a 1950s "B" movie.

But the fact that the effects seem more pronounced for guys brought up in the "heartland" is a clue. Could it be that growing up in our cities provides a certain inoculation against violence, and the effects thereof? When a kid can lie in bed at night and listen to the gentle purr of automatic weapons going off around the neighborhood, with friends and relatives falling by the wayside every other day, it stands to reason that he might be a bit better prepared to deal with the rough and tumble of an officially-declared war zone. By comparison, people who grow up in rural or small-town environments could be more shocked and traumatized by the level of violence that is typical of war; paradoxically, they might be more "normal" psychologically but have fewer of the coping mechanisms needed to deal with a pathological environment. I can extend this hypothesis back at least as far as the Vietnam conflict as well, since our urban pathologies were already firmly in place at at that point.

But then what about World Wars I and II (and probably Korea)? Our cities were more livable back then -- those living in them more "innocent" in a way -- and our rural areas were certainly far more placid and bucolic than they are now. Why were the traumas not more acute, more widespread? Well, this brings us to the second piece of my theory, and it has to do with what Viktor Frankl called "meaning". He wrote a book (among many) called "The Will to Meaning" in which he discusses the significance of whether people are able to attribute some sort of meaning to their (negative) experiences. In many cases, this can literally make the difference between life and death, as in the extreme case (which he discusses extensively) of the Nazi death camps. It turned out that the ability to see some purpose in one's suffering was one of the best predictors of survival; a feeling of absurdity or despair almost inevitably led to death. So, in a sense, the "philosophers" survived -- not that they were necessarily any more intelligent, or "well-adjusted" in normal contexts, but that they were able to rise above their situation and see it as part of a larger picture. So what does this tell us about the PTSD incidence arising out of our various wars, conflicts, "police actions", and what not? Simply that the ability, on the part of the everyday solider -- the "grunt" -- to assign some sort of redeeming quality, meaning, or significance to his experience might just be a critical factor in his resistance to not only despair or literal death while "in theatre", but to residual traumatic reactions later on. So we have to ask, in turn, what are the various factors that can _contribute_ to this assignment of meaning? What are the "pegs" that can serve to anchor one's thinking in these situations? Well, one, certainly, is the idea that one is there for a purpose -- i.e. a purpose which can be defined and stated in operational terms that have some broader significance. The same questions arise every time: Why are we here? What is the mission? How do we know when we've won? When do we get to go home? The most block-headed "troopie" in the entire Army -- the "Zero" of Camp Swampy -- is capable of asking these questions, and frequently does. Does he find answers? Well, there were answers in World Wars I and II, and to a lesser extent Korea. They weren't always entirely credible, and they didn't always satisfy, but they were there, and they had staying power throughout the course of those conflicts. In Vietnam, however, those answers weren't there, and they have not been provided to this day -- hence the, as it seems to me, higher incidence of trauma, stress, and a general feeling of futility associated with the veterans of that conflict. Which brings us to Iraq and Afghanistan, and once again, are those answers there? There are plenty of "reasons" provided by our politicians and military leaders, but are they real answers? Do they satisfy anybody but the most brainwashed and delusional? Apparently not -- and rightfully so. We do not, after all, have troops who are "hardened" against absurdity, the way the SS troops of World War II supposedly were. They continue to look for answers, and finding none, react in a perfectly understandable way -- they get sick, they start to act out, and when the absurdity and despair become too overwhelming they take their own lives, while the politicians who send them into those hellholes prattle on and enjoy the high life of Washington and the perks of power.