Indeed, “soldiers” for the European “invaders” were generally happy to close the ranks and run the natives off their ancestral homelands, so that we could have “America”. And as schoolchildren we had nary an inkling, nor much of an educating, about those someones who were here on this land first, and that we sort of ran roughshod over them to land our land, this land that is “my land”, now. It was our chiefs, and our Indians, jumping in and on, to make for us what we are so proud to call our history.
If you change the get-up just a little it’s grey, it’s blues. It’s dungarees and caps and lots of other fancy lids, for sure. And while all “soldiers”, they almost all have higher-ups, and some a lot of “higher-ups” that they gotta be reporting to, and that gives them comfort. A control that’s needed, to contain the thing. A soldier must have that gene where they can just “go off”, and you know, kill a guy or whatever. Drop a bomb. Fire cannon. POW! Soldier man come rockin’. But the higherup has to give me the go-ahead. And an A-OK.
Fascinating mass-migrations have been commonplace on this planet, but with this species, it always looks the same: an “army” of some kind, with generals and strategies and arms and armaments, and don’t forget, soldiers. If it weren’t for the battles themselves, the foxhole guys, the dudes manning the guns, how far do you think the leadership would get during offensives? Not far. Yet, despite the inherent risks, there has never been a shortage of such “help”.
To “sign on” to the effort, there are a few bare essentials: demean the enemy so as to eliminate the problematic psychology of killing and murder, believe your cause is “just”, and then demonstrate the immense guts needed to hurt and maim your fellow man. But that’s all so easy, apparently. Just, follow the directions, and instructions, like a good soldier.
The all-time low of such behavior, the SS of Hitler’s Germany, was a club of dudes in the 1920s-30s, and then they armed themselves (the “waffen” SS). Then once assimilated into that God-forsaken fold, they took to things like war and genocide. Though they didn’t start out ostensibly to become this, they were what soldiers always are starting out: club rats. Identifying with each other, getting caught up in the whatever, fanned by the moments, and then soldiers in a war somewhere. Pow, pow. Drink, drink.
Whatever the syndrome is, there is little doubt that it involves an ability to turn on some type of “on-switch”, one that the trainers of such mad mobs know well. If you can get dudes to brave live bullets to try to blow up a pillbox a football field away, you can get them to do anything. And obviously, it ain’t the pay scale. It’s a different allure. Of being a helper, of doing tough jobs. And certainly, of joining this mob.
Consider the power in being the foot soldier in any battle. Yeah, you’re the grunt, but you’re packing a piece, often a very good one. There’s other things in your kit too, and there’s all of you together. And while there’s risk to this perverse excitement, all deference to “the boss”, the chiefs as it were, is tempered by the simple, undeniable observation that both have: where would He be without us grunts?
But the “soldier syndrome” (willingness to do the hard work as a “part” of a big something) is by no means limited to soldiers of militias. Throughout cultures this pattern is persistent. Leaders like CEOs and even coaches are in the same positions as are defense department higher-ups. They can run the company, but it’s not like the company or he could get much done without the workers. Because without them loading trucks on the docks, of “stuff” made by their cohorts, any “war” to make commerce would be lost, of course. It just so happens they live in a smaller house.
Same deal. Despite lower “pay”, and benefits packages, and with the nature of the day-to-day routine drastically different, this same paradigm is in place. A doctor might tell a nurse what to “do”, but couldn’t do this himself in most circumstances. The QB on the team, and for that matter the coaches, wouldn’t be considered very successful if not for, say, offensive linemen doing their thing out there. And while QBs are a rare find, there are an awful lot of big dudes offering their services “in the trenches” who have no hope of throwing a good spiral. But they’ll be happy to bang heads with those multimillionaires trying their level best to level your best…player. And… live in a slightly smaller house.
Policeman. Soldier syndrome or not? Follows direction, believes deeply in the cause, owns total control of situations. Can shoot if need be, sanctioned and authorized. Boss can’t do without him. Like essentially all soldiers, he can “go off” and become dangerous. And like a soldier, he expects “the man” to have his back. It’s all so simple really, and indeed this is the essential and defining feature of this syndrome, like so many “syndromes”: pretty simple really.
Not surprisingly, see the other very important survival instinct: A severe sense of self, and that what goes with it: serve and preserve the self, and in “serving” in whatever army, with the cause being just and all that, a dignification of the identity. Very natural indeed. Not real complex of behavior, but very natural.
So what’s the point? In all walks of life, especially in business where “employees” make all efforts work, generals, like bosses and CEOs, must somehow use and utilize their services appropriately, or else everyone involved is screwed. In modern America, the plight of the soldier in these “battles”, where there are no live munitions or bombs bursting, is under assault. From the outsourcing of their “replaceable” skills, to the skinnying of their work packages, the stagnation of their pay, the assault on their values and freedoms (soldiers might want to catch a smoke in a bowling alley, say), and the clash and crashes of their cultures where impossible amounts of money are spent, awarded, and squandered, tells him again if not again that all his hard labor and commitment has somehow gone, dare we say it, unappreciated.
It is dangerous for us as a people and as a society to ignore their needs, to drain their energies. They are the ones carrying out the orders, and filling the orders, and no doubt in their own homes they’re probably giving out a lot of their own orders, and it is these dependents on their dad or mom who are our present and future. Politicians and other moneymen may feel the need and feel the nudge to operate the machine at other levels, hoping on a trickle down that eventually improves the standard of living in a foxhole of the world somewhere. Their record of achieving goodness for these worker bees and drones of our country can’t help but be spotty at times. Bet the lower rungs will feel it and give pause, so often concluding that “He” just doesn’t care about “Me”. Next thing you know there’s a million or two of them screaming for better. And if these soldiers and their mob lose faith, generals and colonels will soon begin to fear “the frag”. (“Frag”, short for fragmentation device, or hand grenade, is the term used when a soldier blows up a commanding officer with one, an expression of deep disagreement with duties given. Born in the Viet Nam era, hundreds of commanding officers were killed by their troops in this way to avoid a fatal operation to “take a hill”).
In any country, soldiers are the workers, the serfs, the help. The generals are the politicians. The frags are elections (usually, but not always). The bullets are bucks. And recessions are lost battles. In all cases, a look in the rear-view will show the warnings of a bad operation unfolding. Only rarely is the outcome so bad that revolution takes place. But if deficit spending, erosion of civil rights, empowerment of unproductivity, encroachment of Big Brotherhood, soiling of ecosystems, and re-derangement of values are simple examples, maltreatment of the soldier is always the result, and an “army” in disarray the real worry. If you don’t take care of him, guess what’s rolling into your tent next.