Last night, for about four hours, I watched a fire fight in Iraq unfold. It was a very slow affair, most the time was spent waiting for bigger guns to move in. First waiting for the tanks, then waiting for the tanks to flush out the resistance, then waiting for the air strike.
Throughout the whole thing I had knots in my stomach–not only for the welfare of the US marines, but also for the Iraqis. The reporter was given the impression that they were Republican Guard soldiers, a group for whom I have less sympathy than for the garden-variety conscript. Still I kept wishing that they’d just surrender. There was no way they could win. At best they could kill a few Americans, but even that was doubtful since the marines were in no rush and taking the situation at a very slow and methodical pace. Of course, I did keep thinking that some things are worth dying for, and I can’t fault someone for choosing to sacrifice for what they believe in. (Though I may fault the belief itself.)
So here’s where the title of the thread comes in. I’ve seen and enjoyed plenty of tv violence. I’ve cheered for bad guys getting greased. But here, where I knew that I was watching real people–and the ones receiving most of the violence weren’t even visible because they were so far away–my gut was bound up in utter anxiety.
I’ve never been a big believer in the whole tv violence=>real violence hypothesis. Now I’m even less inclined to buy into it.