In chapter five of Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, Billy draws an interesting
comparison between an act of vandalism he committed—the crime for which he was forced
into the military as punishment—and his “deed on the banks of the Al-Ansakar
Canal” (Fountain 91), one of the most violent acts he performs as a soldier. Early
on, we learn that Billy was forced to join the military as punishment for the
destruction of his girlfriend’s ex-fiancé’s car. In an under-the-table deal, Billy
is offered the military as an alternative to prison, the usual means for
reforming violent individuals into upstanding citizens.
Interestingly, in the military Billy must perform
acts much more violent than the crime for which he is punished, most
prominently the extremely violent “deed on the banks of the Al-Ansakar Canal.”
However, because of the enchanted way the military and the public view violence
performed by soldiers, Billy is applauded for his violent acts as a soldier as
much as he is condemned for his violence as a citizen. It seems that the
military, rather than reforming his violent tendencies, as prison would,
instead only trains them toward more acceptable violence—that is,
politically-approved violence.
In chapter five, these two acts come together for
Billy in a way which undermines the “reform” he would have experienced in
prison. Rather than seeing the vandalism as delinquent and the Al-Asakar Canal deed
as heroic, he begins to consider both “the bravest thing he ever did” (91). In
enchanting the violence of war, it seems, the military has trained Billy to
reconceptualize his vandalism as transformative, a “digression” from the
“futility and pointlessness” (91) that was his ordinary, pre-vandalism life. It
seems that the “enchantment” of violence can work both ways, enchanting
violence on a political scale while at the same time enchanting the personal
violence of one citizen against another. In this way, Billy’s time in the
military does not reform his violent tendencies toward more politically
acceptable expressions of violence, so much as teach him—at least in this
chapter—to view all violence as enchanted, regardless of its political acceptability.
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