The One With the Naked Guy
First Place One-Act Play Winner
The One With the Naked Guy
by Merie McCown
AT RISE:
(Elevator music fades up softly in a city office interior. There are at least four chairs, a small table with brochures on it, a coat rack, and a secretary’s desk. Karen sits at her desk on her cell phone, completely indifferent to everything that happens around her. She seems all at once oblivious and all-knowing. Miles enters with a business trench coat and dress shoes on.)
MILES
Hi, my name is …
(clears his throat)
No, that’s not right… Hi, my name is Miles! No, too much… Hi, my name is Miles. I’m here to interview… I’m here for a job… I’m here to talk to you about… I’m here for a good time not a long time! No, too much. I’m here to interview for the salesman position that you advertised in the paper. Whew, okay. This is my last chance. Here we go...
(He nervously nods to himself, takes off his coat and hangs it on the rack. He is almost completely naked with only a “censorship” black bar to cover himself. He is wearing dress shoes and socks. As Miles finds a seat a homeless man sneaks in, tries the coat on, decides that it looks good on him, and exits. Miles sits down nervously. Greg enters in a business suit and crosses to the chair farthest away from Miles. As he passes Miles, he gives him a strange look and takes a wide berth. Greg sits down while still looking at Miles oddly out of the corner of his eyes. Miles notices Greg and smiles in a friendly manner.)
MILES
I see you’re wearing a suit…
(chuckles to himself)
GREG
Uh… yeah…
MILES
(shrugs)
Hm.
(to himself)
I guess he didn’t read the ad correctly.
(Brian enters in a business suit. As he passes Miles he gives him a strange look and takes a wide berth. He cautiously sits in the chair next to Greg. As he sits down, he is still looking oddly at Miles out of the corner of his eyes. Miles notices Brian and is surprised that he is wearing a suit.)
MILES
Oh! You’re - uh - wearing a suit…
BRIAN
Um… yeah…
MILES
Did you read the ad for this job interview?
BRIAN
(confused)
Why, yes, of course!
(Phillipe enters in a business suit. He’s an outgoing, friendly fellow and stops short when he notices that Miles is naked. Miles waves “hello” nervously.)
PHILLIPE
Good god, man, where are your clothes?!
MILES
I … uh … isn’t this the interview for a bare naked salesman? The ad said there would be open interviews here…
PHILLIPE
Well, sure it is.
(holds up a brochure for “Bare Naked” Juice)
But they’re looking for a salesman for this “Bare Naked” Juice. I don’t think they intend for their salesman to literally show up naked…
MILES
No, no - they said…
(flips frantically through a brochure to find the ad, then reads it aloud)
Bare Naked Salesman. Shock and awe. Strip yourself down to your nutrients. Bare… Naked… Juice…………… Oh my god!
(he jumps up. A building musical note)
Phillipe
Oh my god!
(In reaction to Miles’ nakedness. A second building musical note.)
MILES
Oh my god!
(Covers himself with his hands. Two musical notes as the climax.)
(Miles runs to the coat rack. He discovers that his coat is no longer there and frantically searches for it. As he realizes that his coat is gone for good, he makes the quick decision that he must leave immediately. As he begins to exit, he realizes that he can’t go outside like this... he stops in his tracks. A look of wide-eyed terror is on his face. He gulps. He slowly looks at the men calmly seated in their suits and has an idea. Miles begins to frantically search for clothing throughout the room. He arrives at the secretary’s desk and ducks below the corner to hide. This is the first time he notices the woman sitting there. He suddenly discovers her huge purse. Miles excitedly digs through her purse looking for clothing. He pulls out a Fifty Shades of Grey book and tosses it aside. He pulls out a thong and looks at it, alarmed. He then considers using this to cover himself. He holds it up to himself for a beat, seriously considering this as a possibility… He shakes his head, quickly tossing the thong aside. He pulls out a vibrator. He looks at it for a brief moment and then realizes what he’s holding. He hurriedly tosses it aside. He wipes his hands on a nearby towel. Miles pauses mid drying his hands and snaps his head up and out. He quickly grabs the towel and covers himself in relief. He pulls a pink blouse out of the purse. He gets so excited that he jumps up and exclaims, dropping the towel. He immediately checks himself and ducks back down. Waves at Phillipe who shot a quick look his way. Secretary is still on her phone. Miles hurriedly puts the shirt on. The fit and style is comically short and frilly. He buttons it up as well as he can, then shrugs helplessly.)
MILES
… Eh!... ahem…
(Greg begins to cough and loosens his tie. Miles has a mischievous light bulb moment and casually crosses behind the row of chairs. He ducks down behind the chairs and positions himself behind Greg. His hands reach up and he wiggles his fingers in preparation. He positions his hands several different ways, trying to figure out the best way to go about stealing a tie. Greg clears his throat and shifts positions to lean forward as he reads a brochure for Bare Naked Juice. Miles retracts his hands in alarm as Greg moves. Miles reaches his hands up between Greg’s arms and his body. Miles slowly loosens the tie. Slowly… slowly… but how to get the tie completely off without him noticing? Miles looks around frantically, without moving, for another idea. A company policy binder is on the secretary’s desk! He sneaks over while on the floor and discreetly takes the binder down. He holds it level and blows a ridiculous amount of dust into the air for Greg to breathe. Miles then positions himself for the act. Here’s the windup… Greg winds up for a sneeze… Suddenly Phillipe sneezes. Brian sneezes. The anticipation! Finally, Greg sneezes and it is intense. Miles swiftly pulls the tie off completely and does a silent dance behind the chairs.)
BOSS
(offstage)
Okay, Karen, send uh…. Send Greg in.
(Karen waves Greg to exit and he does so. Miles puts on his new tie. He crosses behind Brian and begins to attempt to pull his jacket off, ever so gently. Brian immediately notices and turns around. Miles clears his throat and casually dusts off Brian shoulders as if he were helping him out. Brian averts his attention and Miles goes back to work. He tries multiple angles and ways to remove the jacket without Brian noticing.)
BRIAN
Wow, look at that enormous spider.
PHILLIPE
AAAAAAH!
(He screams like a little girl and jumps up onto his chair. Everyone looks at him awkwardly. Miles was so startled that he lays sprawled out on the floor. A moment passes. Phillipe remains in panic until the spider has disappeared. He then slowly returns to his seat.)
I, uh, I have this huge, ridiculous fear of spiders… heh, heh, heh…. Uh… ahem.
(Meanwhile, Miles has still been trying to steal the jacket. Nothing is working and he is now panting from the exertion. He fans himself to cool down and then has another idea. He searches the walls until he finds the AC controls. He intensely cranks the heat all the way up and waits. Everyone in the office slowly begins to look uncomfortable. The men loosen their top buttons and shift in their seats. The secretary turns the fan on her desk on without looking or skipping a beat. Miles wipes some sweat off of his brow. Finally, Brian and Phillipe grow so warm that they begin to take off their jackets. Miles does a little victory dance. Phillipe hangs his jacket on the back of his chair. Miles rushes over and gently pulls the coat off the chair to try it on. It doesn’t quite fit just right… So he turns to Brian. Just as it looks like Brian is about to hang the coat on the back of his chair as well and Miles reaches over to grab it, Brian drapes the coat over his lap and leans on it. Miles tries several different angles out to see if he can secretly take the coat from Brian’s lap. Nothing would work. Brian takes a sip of his coffee. Miles rushes around to the front of the chairs and times his action to sit down next to Brian just as he is taking another sip of coffee. Miles nudges the elbow of Brian and he spills coffee all over his shirt.)
MILES
Oh, god, I’m so sorry!
BRIAN
WHAT THE Fffffffff- udge!?!?
(He jumps up and tries to wipe of his shirt. His coat falls off his lap and Miles snatches it up and tries it on. A perfect fit! Karen clears her throat menacingly at Brian for his outburst. Greg storms out of the boss’s office and exits.)
BOSS
Next.
KAREN
You. Go.
(Without looking up she points at Brian and gestures to the office. As Brian stands, he realizes that he no longer has his jacket. He looks around and then notices that Miles is calmly sitting there with his jacket on.)
BRIAN
What the - ?! You… my… but…
(Naked guy looks up and shrugs. Then goes back to drinking Brian’s coffee.)
BOSS
NEXT!
(Brian begins to shuffle off stage, confused. He shrugs helplessly at the coffee on his shirt. Miles stands and begins to pace behind the chairs. Now all he needs are some pants… He returns to Karen’s desk for inspiration. He finds some tape and scissors. He holds them up as if he’s considering cutting the pants directly off of Phillipe. He shakes his head and places them back on her desk. He paces some more. Suddenly, he notices that the giant spider has returned. Miles is also afraid of spiders. But this may be his only chance… Miles searches for some kind of jar that he can put the spider in. No luck. The spider is about to exit, he has to find something quick! He scrambles to look for any kind of object but can’t find anything! At the last moment he dives and catches the spider in his hands.)
DELIVERY BOY
Um, dry cleaning for a Mr… Dusty Bottoms?
(The boy holds a beautiful business suit up, complete with pants. Miles’ head snaps up.)
MILES
WHAT?!
KAREN
Wrong floor.
DELIVERY BOY
Oh, my apologies! Geez, I just never get it right…
(Delivery boy exits)
MILES
Wait!
(Miles attempts to run to the door, but trips over himself. He urgently looks up to see if the Delivery Boy is still nearby. No luck. He lowers his head in defeat. He now lays sprawled out on the floor, a few feet away from Phillipe’s feet. He still has this spider in his hands. A moment of indecision as he conflicts with whether to chase the delivery boy or lose the spider forever. He army crawls as quickly as he can to Phillipe’s pant legs. He holds his hands at the base of the pants and releases the spider up the leg. A moment passes. Suddenly, Phillipe’s head snaps up, looking out with wide eyes. He jumps to his feet.)
PHILLIPE
AAAAAAAH!!!
(As fast as humanly possible, he rips his pants off and sprints out of the office.)
MILES
(wincing)
I’m sorry!!!
(Miles rushes to the pants and begins to put them on. Midway through, he realizes the spider is still in there and he rips them off to shake them out. Brian storms out of the boss’s office and exits the building in a huff. Miles realizes he’s the only one left and puts the pants on as quickly as he can. Just as he gets them all the way on and stands in a victory pose, the Boss enters. The boss wears dress shoes with only censorship bar(s) covering herself.)
BOSS
Did no one understand the ad?!?
(Lights down.)
Wallace's War
Second Place One-Act Play Winner
Wallace's War
A ONE-ACT PLAY
by Dale Hink
CAST OF CHARACTERS
WALLACE: 42. Has been in the military for many years, and worked his way up to his current position. Stoic and rational, but the devastation of this war is finally getting to him
MARSHALL: 32. A good soldier who has great respect for Wallace. He is very loyal, but is not afraid to ask questions or make suggestions. Also worked his way through the ranks to be in the officer position he is in today.
THOMPSON: 22. A young, and extremely passionate officer. Got into his position as an officer because his father (a high-ranking politician) bought his son a spot in officer’s school.
THE TIME
The action of the scene takes place in the late morning, moving into the afternoon
THE PLACE
Arras, France 1917. A couple of days after a massive battle there. 114 miles from France.
Act One. Scene One. Wallace’s quarters, late morning.
fade in: morning, THE COMPANY IS PREPARING FOR a retreat when WALLACE receives a message.
THE MESSAGE
In local HQ, about half a mile from the trenches at the front line.
(general WALLACE bursts into his quarters angrily)
WALLACE
What nonsense! Stay and fight? This is suicide!
(WALLACE reads through the telegram again)
WALLACE(CONTD)
(takes deep breath, angrily shakes head)
Stay and fight at all costs? Horne, and Joffre haven’t been to the front lines in months! They have no clue how futile trying to hold this position is!
(WALLACE slams the telegram onto the map on the table which has the current military positions on it)
WALLACE(CONTD)
They’re ordering 9,000 men to just stay and die! Bullshit!
(WALLACE begins pacing, pondering his choices)
WALLACE(CONTD)
How convenient as well, right after I ordered the retreat to begin. I’m going to crush these men’s hopes even further if I change my mind
(WALLACE leans over the table with map on it, and thinks for a minute)
WALLACE(CONTD)
It could be bad either way of course…we have little time regardless. I need input.
(WALLACE waits while smoking his pipe, hears a knock at his door. Gets up to let his men in)
WALLACE
Major Marshall, and…oh who might you be young man? What happened to Second Lieutenant Baxter?
MARSHALL
He was lost to dysentery late last night sir. This is Second Lieutenant Thompson who was promoted to his place.
THOMPSON
(THOMPSON salutes)
Sir! Ready to serve King & Country!
WALLACE
Christ I’m losing good men left and right……At ease Thompson. Would you boys like some whiskey?
(WALLACE moves to grab their whiskey as the other two position themselves around the map)
WALLACE
I’m sure you’ve noticed I put a halt to the retreat
MARSHALL
I did notice sir; the men are not pleased by this sudden change of plan. What brought it on?
WALLACE
Have a look at this.
(WALLACE hands him the telegram)
MARSHALL
What in God’s name?
(MARSHALL hands Thompson the telegram)
THOMPSON
So, you’ve called off the retreat to stand and fight? Strong showing sir!
WALLACE
Fresh out of boot camp I see.
THOMPSON
What do you mean by that, Sir?
WALLACE
Just your fighting spirit Thompson. It's admirable.
MARSHALL
So, what? Are we staying now?
WALLACE
(WALLACE downs his whiskey)
This quandary is exactly why I’ve brought you two here.
WALLACE(CONTD)
I’m following the order for now, but I am still considering full retreat. Staying would be certain death and defeat.
THOMPSON
Retreat? Defying orders? What are you a coward?!
MARSHALL
Thompson, stand down.
THOMPSON
I will not! I was told our leaders were fearless like the Brits of old! Apparently, this is not the case!
WALLACE
I assure you that fear is a good thing. It keeps you from making stupid decisions on the battlefield.
THOMPSON
I ought to report you……in fact I think I will
(THOMPSON heads for the door, Marshall moves to block the door)
MARSHALL
Now Thompson let’s not jump to conclusions. Let’s hear Wallace out.
THOMPSON
I’ve heard all I need to hear, now let me pass or I’ll report you too!
WALLACE
Don’t bring Marshall into this. If you want to report me that’s fine. All I ask is that we debate this, and if you don’t like what you hear you can report me. Does that sound good?
MARSHALL
But, Sir!
WALLACE
It’s okay Marshall. I appreciate the loyalty, but Thompson does have a point. What we are discussing would carry a charge of insubordination, and cowardice with it.
WALLACE(CONTD)
Well Thompson, what do you say?
THOMPSON
(THOMPSON turns and walks to the table, and downs his whiskey)
Yes sir!
(WALLACE, and THOMPSON return to their spots on the table)
WALLACE
(WALLACE points to a place on the map)
I was thinking of retreating to Amiens. It isn’t too far, and allows us to join up with another division.
MARSHALL
What about our artillery? We can’t just leave it here.
WALLACE
We would rig them up with explosives, and blow them on our way out.
MARSHALL
Plan seems alright.
THOMPSON
I don’t like it. If the Germans respond quickly enough we’ll all have bullets in our backs.
WALLACE
It would be a night retreat, they wouldn’t be able to respond quickly enough to do much damage.
THOMPSON
They would once they heard the sound of our guns blowing sky high!
MARSHALL
Thompson does have a point. They would surely respond to the explosions.
WALLACE
I…suppose we have to leave the guns behind then.
THOMPSON
And leave them for the enemy to take? Are you daft? I’m going to have your job in no time after the trial!
WALLACE
Quiet down Thompson! You said you would hear me out and all you’ve done is challenge me!
THOMPSON
With all due respect sir, I did hear you out, and your plan sounds horrid.
MARSHALL
I admit it does have a few holes in it
WALLACE
Bloody hell! What would you have me do then?
THOMPSON
Not retreat that’s what! To fight, and die like men!
WALLACE
I’m tired of losing men! Tired!
MARSHALL
It isn’t your fault.
WALLACE
Who’s is it then? Tell me Marshall whose fault is it?
MARSHALL
It’s just a fact of war, sir. Death is unavoidable.
WALLACE
You aren’t wrong Marshall, but at this level? Have you seen how many men we’ve lost here at Arras alone?
(MARSHALL and Thompson stare, shocked)
WALLACE(CONTD)
How about in 1917 alone? Do you know the number?!
MARSHALL
I…admit I do not.
WALLACE
(WALLACE looks at THOMPSON)
I’m sure you don’t know. They probably withhold casualties of war from new soldiers.
THOMPSON
No sir, I do not know the numbers.
WALLACE
(WALLACE looks at MARSHALL, and then THOMPSON)
158,000 here in Arras….279,566 this year alone
THOMPSON
Those men knew what they signed up for.
MARSHALL
Easy thing to say for a politician’s son whose father bought him a spot in the officer’s school.
THOMPSON
(smugly)
Is that a bad thing? I was just using the resources I had to my advantage.
MARSHALL
You sound exactly like your father.
THOMPSON
Good. That means I sound like a patriot. Unlike some people in this room.
WALLACE
If you direct one more insult at us I’ll have yo…
THOMPSON
(interrupts)
Have me what? Court marshalled? Did you forget whose arse is on the line here?
WALLACE
(looking defeated, angry)
No. No, I have not.
(WALLACE takes a deep breath)
WALLACE
Well then Thompson, if my plan is so bad what do you have for us?
THOMPSON
Simple. Stand and fight as we are ordered to. For Queen and Country!
WALLACE
How do we win with 9,000 men?
THOMPSON
Feign weakness in the middle, and crash in from the flanks.
WALLACE
With 9,000 men if we “feign” weakness in the middle, then we won’t have a middle!
THOMPSON
Cowardice. Pure Coward…
WALLACE
(WALLACE interrupts by throwing a punch)
I’ll show you cowardice you bastard! (throws another punch) I’ve lost too many men to this fucking war! TOO MANY!
MARSHALL
(MARSHALL moves to break the two up as they trade blows)
Thompson! Wallace! Stop it! Fighting each other will get us nowhere!
(the three men stand, tense for a moment until they calm down a little)
THOMPSON
(THOMPSON wiping blood from his mouth)
That’s it. That’s the final nail in your coffin. I’m reporting you.
MARSHALL
Thompson, please. Things just got stressful for a moment.
THOMPSON
No! I heard this “leader” out, and all it got me was a wallop.
WALLACE
You gave me nothing of the sort. All you did was come in here with blind loyalty. I hope you know those people you swore your allegiance to don’t give a rat’s ass about you Thompson! All you are to them is cannon fodder!
THOMPSON
You’re wrong, and I’ll prove you wrong when I see you at trial.
WALLACE
(WALLACE tired, exasperated, and giving up.)
I’m wrong…yes…tell that to the boys out there dead in the mud…for what…what are we even fighting for? Can either of you tell me that?
MARSHALL
It’s been so long I’ve honestly forgotten.
THOMPSON
To defend Britain, and her allies from invading Germans trying to take over!
WALLACE
I only wish that were true Thompson.
(in the distance they hear artillery fire beginning)
MARSHALL
Those were not our guns sir…the Germans!
(MARSHALL, and WALLACE look mortified knowing their fate is sealed, THOMPSON looks disturbingly excited)
WALLACE
Fucking hell! A surprise attack!? No! This was not supposed to happen
THOMPSON
(THOMPSON gets wide eyed, and smiles)
Looks as though we’re fighting after all! We’ll show these Jerrys what true resolve is! See you on the battlefield boys!
(THOMPSON exits excitedly leaves Wallace’s quarters)
MARSHALL
Should I go rally my unit, sir?
WALLACE
(WALLACE voice shaky)
Yes. Go to them, they’ll need you. Godspeed, Marshall.
(MARSHALL salutes WALLACE, and leaves the quarters)
WALLACE
(WALLACE pours himself another shot of whiskey, and stares at it for a moment)
(WALLACE says this to himself)
At least this attack has spared my men from national shame…
(WALLACE downs his shot, and draws his pistol)
(We continue to hear gunfire, artillery, and other sounds of war as WALLACE pauses for a moment staring at his gun, and then exits his quarters. He blows into his whistle as he shuts the door behind him. Shortly after an artillery shell strikes the quarters, and we cut to black)
THE END
Unconditional
Third Place One-Act Play Winner
Unconditional
A ONE-ACT PLAY
by Megan Mockerman
CHARACTERS
RILEY. 26. Nurse. Married to her high school sweetheart for eight years. JAIME’s older sister.
JAIME. 23. College student. Been with her boyfriend for a year. RILEY’s younger sister.
THE TIME
Present. Beginning of Fall.
THE PLACE
Interior of RILEY’s home. Hospital room. Bixby, Oklahoma.
Lights up on RILEY sitting patiently in front of the bathroom sink. She stares at a pregnancy test laying in the counter. After a beat, she gets up to look at the pregnancy test. She puts it back on the counter and turns her back to the sink, walking a couple steps away. There is already a look of disappointment on her face. After a beat, she turns to face the counter again. She abruptly steps to the counter and picks the pregnancy test up off of it. Her hand immediately drops with the pregnancy test still in it. There is a look of disappointment on her face, and it is apparent that she has had many negative tests before. She shortly composes herself and throws the test into the trash can beside the sink. She exits the bathroom.
Cross fade to the living room of RILEY’s house. It is fairly clean aside from some clumps of dog hair on the floor. RILEY’s sister, JAIME, is sitting on the couch watching T.V. RILEY enters and joins her on the couch.
JAIME
Was it positive?
RILEY
No. I didn’t think it would be anyway. It’s just that my ovaries have been acting weird the last couple days from that medication I just started taking.
JAIME
Like how?
RILEY
Well, yesterday, I could see it like … pulsing.
JAIME
That’s weird.
RILEY
Yeah. And I’ve been feeling kind of crampy.
JAIME
Well then, it’s probably just still too early. You said you had your period less than two weeks ago, right? And you just started that medication. Give it a little more time.
RILEY
Yeah. You gonna be in the delivery room with me?
JAIME
Yeah! I mean, if you want me in there.
RILEY
Mom thinks she’s gonna be in there with me, but you and Drew are the only people I’d want in there while I’m having the baby.
JAIME
Awww. I want to be in there.
JAIME looks at RILEY endearingly.
RILEY
Alright, quit being so sappy.
JAIME’s phone dings and she picks it up off the coffee table to look at the message. She has a shocked, guilty expression, and she quickly clears the message. RILEY knows something is wrong.
RILEY
Who’s that?
JAIME
Just mom. She sent me another pin.
RILEY
I talked to mom about Thanksgiving again yesterday, and she said that’s the week they have Addi, so I told her they’re not coming then. I already told her that I don’t want Addi in my house, and it’s not even Addi. It’s the way Ed acts when Addi is around.
JAIME
I mean I want Mom here, but you’re right. I don’t want to have to put up with princess all day. Every single time we all get together there’s drama, or Ed treats mom like shit. I’m over it. I just want to spend the day together and have a good time.
RILEY
Exactly. And I’m not going to slave over making food for everyone all day and Addi not eat. Last time they were here, Mom asked Addi if she wanted anything to eat, and Addi said no, so mom went ahead and made herself a sandwich. The minute mom sat down to eat, Addi told her she was hungry, so mom told her she would have to wait until she was done eating because she already asked her. Apparently that wasn’t good enough for princess because Ed had the nerve to tell mom to get up and make her something even though his fat ass was on the couch doing nothing but playing his computer game.
JAIME
Did she do it?
RILEY
No. I got up and did it. I didn’t want drama.
JAIME
He’s a fucking asshole. She has Down syndrome. She’s not crippled. She’s eighteen years old. She can make her own damn sandwich.
RILEY
I know! She’s perfectly capable of being independent, but Ed enables her. And in the long run, it’s not helping her any. (Beat.) Whatever, I’m not going to let that ruin the holidays. I’m still excited since you and Grandma are coming. I told mom that you were going to be disappointed because we were supposed to put the Christmas decorations up together, but we can still put them up together. And on the bright side, I don’t have to buy as big of a bird.
JAIME
The last couple years we’ve done it just the two of us anyway, so I’m still excited. It’ll still be fun.
RILEY
I mean, it would’ve been nice to do it with mom, but I’m used to not seeing her anyway. She always says she’s going to visit, but she never does. She always says she’s going to leave Ed, but she’s never going to do that either.
JAIME
Yeah. At this point I don’t expect anything of her.
RILEY
You better not leave me. My kids will have no one. Mom says she’ll visit when I have kids, but she won’t. She doesn’t visit now, so why would she then. Just like she’ll never leave Ed. My kids aren’t going to have any family around. You have to have kids. Who are my kids going to play with? Jessie and Hailey’s kids?
Beat.
JAIME
I don’t want kids. (Suddenly.) I have to go to the bathroom.
JAIME exits into the bathroom. RILEY waits a minute and then picks up JAIME’s phone. She reads through JAIME’s text messages. She places the phone back on the coffee table, aghast. JAIME walks back into the room. She sees RILEY and knows something isn’t right. RILEY stands up to confront JAIME.
RILEY
You got an abortion?
JAIME
How did you … You went through my phone?
RILEY
Answer the question.
JAIME
You have no right to go through my phone, and that’s none of your business.
RILEY
Don’t act all high and mighty and try to change the subject. Now answer my question.
JAIME
(Defeated.) Yes. (Beat.) I’m sorry. I didn’t want anyone to know.
RILEY
Why didn’t you tell me?
JAIME
Because everyone was always harping on me about being safe and making sure this didn’t happen. And you, you told me that if I got pregnant you would punch me in the stomach.
RILEY
Like I would really fucking do that? Don’t use me as your excuse.
JAIME
I don’t need your anger. I have enough of that for myself. I’m ashamed. I will always have to live with the guilt and the regret.
RILEY
How could you do that?
JAIME
It was my choice! That doesn’t mean it was easy. It was hard for me.
RILEY
Apparently it wasn’t hard enough.
JAIME
You really think I’m capable of being a mother right now?! Honestly, you think I could support another human being when I can’t even support myself?!
RILEY
Don’t yell at me just because you’re trying to make excuses!
JAIME
When I went into the clinic, I was told the baby was unrecognizable and was just a tiny clump of cells. When I passed the baby at home, I saw the umbilical cord, like a silver thread floating in the blood. On the end there was a small, very small maybe an inch or two long baby hanging on to the thread. I could see a tiny head, tiny chest, tiny legs, tiny arms, tiny hands and feet. There were tiny black spots where the eyes had begun to develop. It wasn’t just a clump of cells. It was a baby. It was my baby. I think about that everyday. Sometimes I’ll go into the bathroom and lock the door to cry. I have to live with that.
RILEY
You expect me to feel sorry for you? I may never get to have children!
JAIME
You don’t know what it’s like!
RILEY
I don’t know what it’s like?! No, you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what it’s like to try month after month to get pregnant, to obsess over when you’re supposed to get your period and when you’re supposed to ovulate. You don’t know what it’s like to get excited every time you ovulate and to hope that it will be the month you finally get pregnant just to have it all come crashing down with a negative pregnancy test. You don’t know what it’s like to go to your coworkers’ baby showers, to buy them stuff that you may never get to buy for a child of your own. You don’t know what it’s like to wonder what is wrong with you, to wonder if your husband blames you. You don’t know what it’s like to try to get pregnant for years and find out that your sister got an abortion.
RILEY gets into JAIME’s face, causing her to back up toward the door.
RILEY
Don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know what it’s like. Get the fuck out of my house.
JAIME grabs her purse and goes to leave but turns to RILEY before she is all the way through the door.
JAIME
I’m not dad. You can’t expect me to go easily out of your life.
JAIME exits out the door. Blackout.
Lights up on RILEY sitting patiently in front of the bathroom sink. She stares at a pregnancy test laying in the counter. After a beat, she gets up to look at a the pregnancy test. She puts it back on the counter and turns her back to the sink, walking a couple steps away. There is already a look of disappointment on her face. After a beat, she turns to face the counter again. She abruptly steps to the counter and picks the pregnancy test up off of it. Her hand immediately drops with the pregnancy test still in it. She begins to cry in disbelief. She smiles hopefully. Blackout.
Lights up on RILEY lying in a hospital bed. She is holding her newborn twin daughters.
RILEY
I dreamed about becoming a mother ever since I met your daddy. But nobody tells you how hard it is to make a baby. Making you two is by far, the hardest thing I have ever done. It was all worth it though because you are already my everything. (Beat.) You two will probably experience all the firsts of your life together, so for every new journey, you will never feel alone. You will always have each other. You will find in each other a best friend to share all your joys and worries. Remember, you may have similar likings but different choices. You may have similar interests but different beliefs. Your individuality is as precious as your bond. Help each other grow but do not force your views on one another. Accept each other with open arms.
RILEY is crying. After a beat, she picks her cell phone up off of the side table and calls someone.
RILEY
Do you want to meet your nieces? … Yeah. … Reagan and Jade.
Blackout.
Lights up on RILEY sitting on her living room couch. She is holding the twins. There is a knock at the door. She puts the twins down to answer the door. It is JAIME. She enters with a gift bag, and she hands it to RILEY. There is still a little tension between the sisters.
JAIME
I got this for you.
RILEY
You didn’t need to do that.
JAIME
I wanted to.
JAIME goes to the couch where the twins are.
JAIME
Can I?
RILEY
Sure.
JAIME sits on the couch and holds the twins. RILEY sits on the opposite end of the couch.
JAIME
They’ve gotten so big already. They look like you. Except for their foreheads. They have Drew’s forehead. Poor kids.
JAIME smiles at RILEY. RILEY laughs. RILEY opens the gift bag. There are Harry Potter onesies and baby blankets.
RILEY
Thank you.
JAIME
You’re welcome.
Blackout.
Lights up on JAIME sitting patiently in front of the bathroom sink. She is now wearing a wedding ring. She stares at a pregnancy test laying in the counter. After a beat, she gets up to look at a the pregnancy test. She puts it back on the counter and turns her back to the sink, walking a couple steps away. There is already a look of disappointment on her face. After a beat, she turns to face the counter again. She abruptly steps to the counter and picks the pregnancy test up off of it. Her hand immediately drops with the pregnancy test still in it. She begins to cry in disbelief. She begins to smile. She exits the bathroom with the pregnancy test in hand.
JAIME
Babe!
Blackout.
Inclusion
Inclusion
by Laurence Klavan
Setting up for a card game. The players, all male, are Leslie, Albert, Moe and Heck.
LESLIE
It wasn’t personal.
ALBERT
Well, I don’t see why it would have been. I mean, what had I ever done to anyone? Still, I was never invited.
LESLIE
Well, you have been now.
ALBERT
I’m a nice guy.
LESLIE
I never said that you’re not. It was a matter of chemistry. Personal chemistry.
ALBERT
And I like playing poker. I’m even bad at it, so other people can win. What could be better?
LESLIE
Right, right.
ALBERT
I’m serious.
LESLIE
I know.
ALBERT
Then how come I could never come to your game? You friends and I could have had a stimulating chin wag. We could have jawed. Batted ideas back and forth like badminton birdies. It would have been fun.
LESLIE
Well, see, that’s the…Some other people are not as comfortable…You’re unusual, Albert, in that you…anyway, it’s over. You’re here.
ALBERT
Right. I even sprung for the snacks. Regular chips with plenty of preservatives. None of that sea salt and vinegar. You know what I’m saying? Our Dads didn’t eat sea salt, unless they were at the bottom of the sea. Because their submarine had been torpedoed. Just regular Lay’s potato chips. Which sounds salty. Not sea salty, sexy. Because Lay’s, get it? Not Ruffles. That’s too Beau Brummel. You understand? Nuff said.
LESLIE
See, this is what I’m…There’s a problem in…You always tend to…
ALBERT
Haven’t we known each other since high school?
LESLIE
Yes, but…
ALBERT
Don’t you know how lonely I am?
He tears up.
LESLIE
I hate when you do this.
ALBERT
Do what?
LESLIE
Weep.
ALBERT
(weeping) Who’s weeping?
LESLIE
The game’s starting. Yes? Now try to stick to the subject at hand.
ALBERT
Of course. (wipes nose) You won’t regret it, Les.
HECK
Okay, everybody, ante up. Seven card stud. Aces are wild.
MOE
I’m in.
LESLIE
Me, too.
ALBERT
Moi, aussi. (to audience) You can insert any subject you want. We made up something weird so it doesn’t date or pander and limit the appeal of the play. Okay? Thanks. (to others) I find Alabaster works the best.
LESLIE
Albert…
ALBERT
What?
MOE
I bet a dime.
ALBERT
Alabaster buttons. Because they go down the easiest. Smooth as silk. Though silk would stick. In your throat. So it’s an imprecise expression. That’s what I’ve always thought.
HECK
I’ll see you. And raise you a quarter.
ALBERT
I’m in. Wooden buttons work, too. If they’re shaved down enough. And certain kinds of plastic. But Alabaster are still the best buttons. For swallowing.
LESLIE
I’m out.
MOE
I’ve got a straight.
HECK
Full house.
ALBERT
I’m out. Do you think they should be force-fed to children? Buttons? Kids already eat everything. So maybe they wouldn’t have to be encouraged. And if you’re worried about the buttons not agreeing with their tummies, you can always feed your little ones a laxative and pick the buttons out of their feces yourself. I bet the Alabaster buttons would shine in the light and be apparent in their poop and so easy to disengage. I open the floor to a freewheeling discussion!
MOE
Can we just play?
LESLIE
Yes, let’s just…
ALBERT
Exactly. I invite us all to play. Like children. Who’ve ingested and expelled Alabaster buttons. More popcorn?
HECK
I’ll pass. Pardon the expression.
MOE
This game is five card stud. Jokers wild.
HECK
Jokers weird.
MOE
You said it.
ALBERT
What was that?
MOE
Nothing. Excuse me. I have to make an important phone call.
He exits. Then we hear the front door open and close. Beat.
HECK
I’ll see what’s keeping him.
ALBERT
But he’s only been gone a…
Heck exits. Front door opens and closes again. They don’t return.
LESLIE
See?
ALBERT
What do you mean? I was having a great time.
LESLIE
Well, you may have been, but…
ALBERT
That’s right. Thanks for finally having me. See you next week?
Before Leslie can answer, he exits. Leslie sighs. Light shift. Albert re-enters. Another night. He waits, checking his watch.
ALBERT
Maybe they’re both sick.
LESLIE
I don’t think so.
ALBERT
Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense. Last week, it went so well. We had a good give-and-take. Really chewed on a few choice bits of belief. I lobbed an idea; they banged it back. Like intellectual jousting, back when “knight” meant man and not just when the moon comes out. When “knight” meant manly and not a soft and tender time of day. You know?
LESLIE
I do, but…I’m not sure that they…You might have been the only one here who…
ALBERT
I think you take it too seriously, Les. When two fellas “wrastle,” it’s not a real fight. I mean, perhaps you’re pinned, but you don’t have a broken buttock. And I felt we were all in one big, harmless, sweaty huddle, rolling around on the floor. Pure fun!
LESLIE
If you say so. But again, Albert, I…wish you would…
Heck enters. He sees Albert, freezes, caught. He tries to escape, but…
ALBERT
Hey. There he is!
HECK
Oh, uh, hi.
ALBERT
Ready to win some more money off me, Heck? It might have to be a three-hander tonight. Go Fish? I can’t play that, either, if that’s an incentive.
HECK
Actually, I just came by to…pick up my hat. Which I, uh, left.
ALBERT
But you weren’t wearing one. I always pay close attention to other people’s clothes. Especially their fasteners. And hats aren’t as good as buttons. Because you can’t swallow your hat. Or force-feed it to a child. As you could a button. An Alabaster button.
HECK
Uh…right…
ALBERT
(thoughtfully) Or could you?
LESLIE
Here. Here’s your hat. You left it the time before.
HECK
I did? I did! Thanks. So long!
He rushes out.
ALBERT
Maybe he went to get snacks.
LESLIE
Look, it’s over, all right? No one’s coming back. While you’re here.
ALBERT
But it was just a…chin wag.
LESLIE
I’m aware that’s what you thought.
ALBERT
They thought so, too.
LESLIE
They did? What did they say?
ALBERT
Well, nothing, but…
LESLIE
Of course not. Because they were too embarrassed. Or disgusted. So they kept a civilized silence until they could get the hell away and never return.
ALBERT
You always had a funny way of seeing things, even when we were kids.
LESLIE
I was only your friend because my mother made me. Okay? Because she felt sorry for you.
ALBERT
(tearing up) Because of how lonely I was?
LESLIE
I think she was afraid of how lonely you were.
ALBERT
That makes no sense. Say something that someone else can understand.
LESLIE
Never mind.
ALBERT
It was an Alabaster button on your mother’s blouse that first inspired my appetite. The way she toyed with it, turning it back and forth and back and forth, but never turning it so much that she sent it back through its own hole and opened up her blouse. Nothing sick, in other words. I only wanted to swallow her button, not—I won’t say. Anyway, I’ll always be grateful to her. And her Albaster button.
LESLIE
You better go.
ALBERT
You’re all a bunch of bigots. Whatever happened to freedom of speech? All I want is to be included!
He storms out. Light shifts. Albert re-enters. Another night.
LESLIE
Albert, what are you doing…I know it’s poker night, but…I didn’t…
Phone rings.
LESLIE
Hello? Yes. What? (beat) Jesus Christ. Oh, no. My God! (hangs up) Moe’s dead. They found him suffocated, with something small stuck in and blocking his windpipe. There were bruises on his arms and shoulders as if he had been…held down.
ALBERT
Life is so full of bad luck, isn’t it? It’s almost enough to make you lose faith in God. Almost!
Beat.
LESLIE
Albert, you didn’t go to his house, did you?
ALBERT
What? Me? No.
LESLIE
Good.
ALBERT
I mean, maybe I happened to be in his neighborhood…and the subject of his not coming back came up…and we had a good back and forth, a chin wag, a jaw, but…that’s not the same as…
LESLIE
My God.
ALBERT
I’ll happen to be in Heck’s neighborhood later.
LESLIE
Look, uh…maybe we ought to talk about this another time….
ALBERT
There’s no reason to talk about it at all. Who needs talking? That’s too touchy feely. Our Dads weren’t touchy feely. Well, they weren’t touchy, but maybe they were feely. When they were in the Army. In a huge crowd because victory had been declared. There they could be feely without being found out. Otherwise, our mouths aren’t meant for talking. They’re best used for swallowing buttons. And Alabaster buttons are the best. (advancing)
LESLIE
(backing away) Albert…
ALBERT
It’s just a stimulating and provocative idea. It makes for a good give and take. Like a “wrastle” on the slippery wet tiles of a steam room, our towels akimbo. Something our Dads would have done, though not in uniform. (takes out buttons) Care to join me? It’s a fun thing two pals can get up to. Otherwise, I’ll have to do it by myself. Haven’t we been friends since nursery school? Here—it tastes good!
He forces a handful of buttons into Leslie’s mouth. He holds him down while he bucks. Leslie swallows them and suffocates.
Beat. Then, panting, Albert sits and deals out cards by himself.
ALBERT
(to audience) It’s my game now. So anyone can play. Who wants in? (no one does; tears up) Don’t you know how lonely I am? (sobers) That’s the button.
BLACKOUT
Bowe Bergdahl, John Galt, Rodion Raskolnikov: Three in One?
Bowe Bergdahl, John Galt, Rodion Raskolnikov:
Three in One?
by W. Trace Miller
On June 30, 2009, Sergeant Bowe Bergdahl deserted his post and walked into the hostile Afghan wilderness. In a matter of hours, the Taliban had seized and imprisoned him, initiating a hostage crisis that continued for five years. The United States immediately applied Brobdingnagian resources to the search for Bergdahl, but to no avail. He simply vanished into Pakistan. And as the time after his disappearance increased, so the manhunt languished.
Meanwhile, the five torturous years for Bergdahl were five tortuous years of volatile, delicate talks between the United States, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Qatar, and the Taliban. Numerous mishaps – both unavoidable and avoidable – myriad mistakes, and a general pervasion of apathy prolonged the mutual release negotiations. Finally, the Taliban returned Bergdahl to United States custody in exchange for five Taliban leaders, initiating perhaps the most controversial homecoming of United States personnel ever. As Sarah Koenig puts it, “the loudest response was… ‘I can’t believe we just did that. We negotiated with terrorists…to release some terrorists…to get back a deserter?’” (“Serial”).
This, then, is the Bergdahl case in a nutshell. We, however, are not overly concerned with the aforementioned details. Rather, I would like to investigate Bergdahl’s claimed reasoning behind, justifications of, and excuses for his desertion by examining his unique moral code. I will accomplish this examination by analyzing the two philosophical works which directly formed his morals – the Bushido Code and Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand – and by discussing the parallels between Bergdahl’s character, code, and actions and those of the fictional character Rodion Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky.
* * *
According to Bergdahl, he deserted not because of personal discomfort or disgruntlement; rather, he deserted because he perceived willful, malignant danger in the battalion and company leadership. In his words, “I was seeing… leadership failure to the point that the lives of the guys standing next to me were literally… in danger of something seriously going wrong and somebody being killed” (“Serial”). Someone clearly needed to do something. But as a private first class – and infantry no less – Bergdahl was the grunt, the groundling, the runt of the Army. If he voiced his perceptions and fears, no superior would heed him, much less believe Bergdahl’s claims that his commanding officer needed psychological evaluation and possibly removal.
So Bergdahl decided to simply desert his base and reappear at another. Then he could speak with whomsoever he desired – a colonel, general, or government official – and explain the obscurely irrational ratiocination underlying such a drastic measure, thereby alerting the gods and generals to his dangerous battalion leadership. Of course, he knew that upon arrival a military whang-klang would greedily gobble him whole; but he was so utterly convinced of the veracity of his perceptions, and so utterly convinced he was in the right, that unto him the scales were balanced:
I was fully confident that when somebody actually took a look at the situation, and when people started investigating the situation, that people would understand that I was right. You know, what was going on was a danger to the lives of the men in that company. The idea was I'd rather be sitting in Leavenworth than standing over the body of Nascimento or Coe or somebody like that. And understanding that if somebody had done something, they'd still be alive. (“Serial”)
Obviously, no submarine helmsman opens the hatch full fathom five below the suspiring surface of la mer bleue et magnifique. Those who do so we would rightfully consider insane. The predicament of a soldier in Afghanistan diverges little from this illustration: leave a base, and a soldier might as well be Guildenstern flipping coins en route to Elsinore in Stoppard’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead: heads, he is captured, tails he is safe. Michael Valdovinos, an Army psychologist, puts it this way: “For most of us, it would be… an absolute boundary… even if I'm frustrated with my command, even if I'm frustrated with this mission, frustrated with the army, there's still something, I think biologically, that's going to keep us from literally walking off a base” (“Serial”). Self-preservation would normally preserve soldiers from the eminent capture, torture, and possible death inherent to desertion. Yet Bergdahl suffered no such deterrents. He did simply walk off. But how did he do it? How did his claimed impetus suffice to initiate such an awesome action? And why did he feel as though he was the one required to take action?
To answer these central questions, we need to understand Bergdahl’s substance: his moral code, essentially a fusion – which I call the ‘Bergdahl Synthesis’ – of the Samurai Bushido Code and Randian fanatical libertarianism, i.e. Objectivism. This moral code is unique, potent, and absolutely essential to comprehending Bergdahl, for it defined him. His friends, when asked to describe him, verbally depicted him “as an introspective young man who sometimes painted his fingernails black and identified with Japanese samurai warriors” (McCrummen, italics mine). Furthermore, three days before Bergdahl deserted, he sent his friends an email titled “Who is John Galt.” In the message, he quoted and paraphrased passages from the prolix Randian rant of John Galt – the main character of Ayn Rand’s philosophical novel Atlas Shrugged – as justification for his future actions. Here is the text of that fateful email:
It is not the being of value who fails the system, it is the system that has failed the man. For man should not stoop to fit the system, but the system should be made and remade to fit the man who holds value as worth. I will serve no bandit nor liar, for I know John Galt and understand. This life is too short to serve those who compromise value and its ethics. I am done compromising. (McCrummen)
When his friends received the email, they just thought, “this is Bowe being Bowe” (“Serial”). This quoting of Rand, this obsession with morals, ethics, boundaries, right and wrong: typical Bowe.
From a young age, then, we see the influence of the ancient Bushido Code of chivalry, and in conjunction with his disappearance, the influence of Rand’s Objectivism. All in all, we behold a constant striving to comprehend the very nature of morality itself that formed Bergdahl and shaped him as a man. Therefore, in order to better understand Bergdahl’s story, we will examine both of these philosophies in turn, and then discuss the ‘Bergdahl Synthesis’.
The Bushido Code (Thesis):
Samurai warriors created and practiced the Bushido code. The Bushido Code stresses the Eight Virtues: Rectitude (or Justice), Courage, Benevolence (or Mercy), Politeness, Honesty (and Sincerity), Honor, Loyalty, and Character (including Self-Control). I will briefly describe each aspect:
“Rectitude is one’s power to decide upon a course of conduct in accordance with reason, without wavering; to die when to die is right, to strike when to strike is right” (Clark 3). Rectitude, then, is the power to submit always to reason by recognizing and realizing its directives.
Confucius defines Courage with a negative: “To see the right and not do it is to lack courage” (Analects 8). Nor is mere bravery Courage. Courage includes bravery, but it is more: it is the strength required to realize the directives of Rectitude, whether popular or not.
Benevolence tempers Rectitude. “Masamune expressed it well [when he said] … Rectitude carried to excess hardens into stiffness; Benevolence indulged beyond measure sinks into weakness” (Nitobe 32).
Politeness is economy of force. In some sense it is the rendering of what is due unto whom it is due, so perhaps we may liken Politeness to a merciful conception of Western Justice: “In its highest form, Politeness approaches love” (Clark 4).
The Virtue of Honesty serves as an umbrella over the virtues of hardship and abstinence. Luxury was considered the greatest detriment to manhood, and severe simplicity was required of warriors (Clark 5). Of course, Honesty also dealt with matters of truth and falsehood.
Honor is an awareness of personal value and dignity (Clark 5). Honor involved profound patience, deep humility, and vivid self-value approaching Aristotelian megalopsychia (magnanimity or virtuous pride).
The Bushido definition of Loyalty corresponds with our own definition, but its value in Samurai culture greatly exceeds our modern appraisal: “Loyalty was the key-stone making feudal virtues a symmetrical arch…. But it is only in the code of chivalrous Honor that Loyalty assumes paramount importance” (Nitobe 56).
Lastly, the Bushido code directs men to believe in an absolute standard of morality that transcends logic: “The difference between good and bad and between right and wrong are givens, not arguments subject or discussion or justification” (Clark 6). This is the concept of Character, and the virtue Self-Control – mastery over the body – is its corollary. Samurai culture revered full mastery of the body: young samurai were forced to walk barefoot during the violent winters, read for hours before their breakfast, spend nights in graveyards or without sleep, and watch public executions. These are just a few illustrations of Bushido Self-Control and Character.
Through these eight virtues, we note that the Bushido Code is not a code of violence and bloodthirst. It is not a quasi-Mongolian morality of mangling. The Bushido Code is a system of honor, virtue, courage and mercy: “to die when it is right to die, to strike when it is right to strike” (Nitobe 22); to kill when it is right to kill, but to spare when right to spare.
Technically, we have delineated only the Bushido code, but we have also practically delineated Bergdahl’s character. He was benevolent, merciful, loyal, and polite to strangers, to his family, and especially to his friends. For instance, his almost-sister Kayla specifically recalled a birthday card that Bowe authored and – in spite of his fundamental shyness – convinced random folks from Hailey to sign. She comprehensively described Bowe as “gentlemanly” (“Serial”). Furthermore, rectitude, justice, and courage filled Bowe’s heart. He always sought the proper course of action and strained to realize it. He was honest, maintained abnormal self-control, and had paranormally strong character: he slept on box springs, without a mattress, with a hatchet on his chest, while in Alaska with his unit. Bergdahl deeply knew, fully exhibited, and profoundly obeyed the Bushido Code.
The Bushido Code, however, did not play a singular role in shaping Bergdahl’s character and moral code: Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged equally formed his psyche.
Randian Objectivism (Antithesis):
“Who is John Galt?”
So begins the famous sixty-nine-page speech delineating Rand’s Objectivism, which she summarizes as the following: “My morality, the morality of reason, is contained in single axiom: existence exists—and in a single choice: to live” (Rand 1018). According to Rand, there is “one fundamental alternative in the universe: existence or non-existence” (1012). Man receives life and, because he is a volitional being, he can choose to accept that life or not.
Because existence-nonexistence is the fundamental dichotomy, all values relate to this dichotomy (Rand 1013). Rand believes, a “‘value’ is that which one acts to gain and keep, ‘virtue’ is the action by which one gains and keeps it” (1012). Value presupposes a standard and an environment allowing and enabling choice. Since we choose to exist or not, we choose our values—our moral code. If we have not chosen our values, however, they are not truly values. Rand says “where there are no alternatives, no values are possible”; furthermore, “a code of values accepted by choice is a code of morality” (1012, 1013). Man’s life is the standard of all value; therefore, “all that which is proper to the life of a rational being is the good; all that which destroys it is the evil” (1014).
This is the foundation, the skeleton, the core of Rand’s philosophy; all else rests atop it. And after constructing this frame, she proceeds to the meat, the personal. She first states that your life is the standard of your value: “Your life belongs to you and… the good is to live it” (Rand 1012). Good and evil, then, are purely physical terms relating directly to our personal eudemonia (flourishing). She then recognizes that “you do not have to live; it is your basic act of choice” (1015). But if you choose to live, “you must live as a man [or woman]—by the work and the judgement of your mind” (1015). You must forge a code that declares your life as the ultimate value and rests upon reason.
Rand continues: “The most depraved sentence you can now utter is to ask: Whose reason? The answer is Yours…. It is only with your own knowledge that you can deal…. Your mind is your only judge of truth—and if others dissent from your verdict, reality is the court of final appeal” (Rand 1017). This statement – “reality is the court of final appeal” – is of paramount importance to Bergdahl’s situation. Rand, earlier, says something similar: “something exists which one perceives and that one exists possessing consciousness, consciousness being the faculty of perceiving that which exists” (1015). And again she states: “the mind is one’s only judge of values and one’s only guide of action” (1018). This concept of perception, of mind, assumes a prominence approaching that of nous (intellect) in Plotinus’ Neoplatonism. But Objectivist nous is not emanated by the One, but by the one—the individual man or woman whose life is the nexus of their personal, absolute moral code. Perception and reason are synonymous, necessary to interpreting the raw data amassed by our senses.
Rand then catalogs virtues similar to those of the Bushido code, but more egocentric: Rationality, Independence, Integrity, Honesty, Justice, Productiveness, and Pride.
Rationality “is the recognition… that nothing can alter the truth and nothing can take precedence of that act of perceiving it, which is thinking”; Independence is “the recognition of the fact that yours is the responsibility of judgement”; Integrity is “the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake your consciousness”; Honesty is “the recognition of the fact that the unreal is unreal and can have no value, that neither love nor fame nor cash is a value if obtained by fraud”; Justice is “the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake the character of men… that you must judge all men as conscientiously as you judge inanimate objects, with… respect for truth”; Productiveness is the “acceptance of morality, your recognition of the fact that you choose to live”; and Pride is “the recognition of the fact that you are your own highest value and, like all of man’s values, it has to be earned” (Rand 1018-1020).
As if this were not controversial enough, Rand goes on to state that “it is hard to say who is more contemptible: the brute who assumes the right to force the mind of others or the moral degenerate who grants to others the right to force his mind” (Rand 1023).
In other words, leave me alone.
This idea of individual sovereignty, the fact that “you are your own highest value” is nearly identical to the political philosophy of Robert Nozick. He states that justice consists of three facets:
- A person who acquires a holding in accordance with the principle of justice in acquisition is entitled to that holding.
- A person who acquires a holding in accordance with the principle of justice in transfer, from someone else entitled to the holding, is entitled to the holding.
- No one is entitled to a holding except by… applications of 1 and 2…. (Nozick 315).
He also states, “Whoever makes something, having bought or contracted for all other held resources used in the process (transferring some of this holdings for these cooperating factors) is entitled to it” (317). This in turn conjures Rand’s rhetorical question: “Do you ask what moral obligation I owe to my fellow men? None—except the obligation I owe to myself, to material objects and to all of existence: rationality” (Rand 1022). For Nozick and Rand, then, anything that you deserve is yours. And you deserve anything which is a part of yourself, whether yourself itself, or things which you have created, or purchased, or won, or earned—in other words, anything which you rationally acquired.
Nozick and Rand are speaking, superficially, on different levels: Nozick is tackling the terrible trouble of establishing and stipulating distributive justice in the market place and political spectrum; Rand is defeating the dire dilemma of establishing the existential epicleti: good, evil, right, wrong, and the meaning of life. But their message is the same: you are your own, your own is your own, you are who you are, and you are no other than your own. Rand writes, “The achievement of your happiness is the only moral purpose of your life, and that happiness – not pain or mindless self-indulgence – is the proof of your moral integrity” (Rand 1059).
Conflict:
These two philosophies, or codes, resemble one another per accidens, but diverge radically in essence. For instance, both emphasize individuality and personal fortitude. They both uphold specific tenets, or virtues, such as honesty, honor, justice, pride, valor, courage, and rectitude. And yet, despite their commonalities, a chasm yawns between them. The Bushido Code stresses a certain illogicality, a certain metaphysicality and mysteriousness, a certain, profound concern for others that simply does not appear in Objectivism. On the other hand, Objectivism stresses a rabid atomism that directly conflicts with the Bushido Code’s tempered approach to society’s obligations on the individual and the individual’s rights within society. In extreme simplification, the Bushido Code is directed towards others and Objectivism directed towards the self.
Take, for instance, the concept of sacrifice. The Bushido Code proclaims the honor of sacrifice, even unto hari-kari or seppuku—the glorious, literal disembowelment of oneself. Rand, on the other hand, calls sacrifice “the word… that has destroyed you…. [S]acrifice is the surrender of the right to the wrong, of the good to the evil. The creed of sacrifice is a morality for the immoral” (Rand 1028, 1029). What is honorable, right, and glorified, according to Rand, is that which promotes your own happiness: “happiness is man’s only moral purpose…. Life is the reward of virtue—and happiness is the goal and the reward of life” (1021). She writes, “The purpose of morality is to teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and live” (1014).
Another key battle occurs over the very nature of morality itself. Rand argues that morality equates to values which rationality can and does grasp:
Man must obtain his knowledge and choose his actions by a process of thinking…. [R]ationality is a matter of choice… Man… has to hold his life as a value—by choice… he has to discover the values it requires and practice his virtues—by choice. A code of values accepted by choice is a code of morality. (Rand 1013)
Bushido, on the other hand, stems from Buddhism and Shintoism. It sustains and nurtures its roots implying that Bushido was a practical code for practical usages until the warrior reached Zen or enlightenment (Nitobe18). According to Nitobe, “A foremost teacher of the swordsmanship, when he saw his pupil master the utmost of his art, told him, ‘Beyond this my instruction must give way to Zen teaching’” (18). Objectivity preaches, then, that morality is reached by the rational, logical application of the mind. The other code preaches that morality lies beyond sensible phenomena because it underlies all phenomena.
After investigating only two conflicts, these codes appear irreconcilable—yet Bergdahl managed to integrate these two distinct, conflicting codes into one unique amalgamation. How did he do so? And what did it look like?
The Bergdahl Synthesis:
Romantic, stubborn, imaginative, creative, gentlemanly, unfulfilled, earnest, dogmatic, fact-driven, sacrificial: these are all terms that apply to Bergdahl and can be traced to either Bushido or Objectivism, the moral systems that shaped and defined Bergdahl’s own unique code.
But there’s the rub.
How did Bergdahl, a man of rationality as meticulous as Heller’s Yossarian’s Orr’s mechanical skills (in the novel Catch-22), manage to combine two moral theories that do not comport?
I hypothesize that Bergdahl adopted first the Bushido Code and other, similar theories of chivalry, valor, bravery, and fortitude. Books about soldiers, fighting, and adventure were young Bowe’s tales of choice when he desired entertainment, and these would doubtless have saturated his mind with bold deeds of bravery. Such tenets as sacrifice and humility, found in codes of chivalry but never in Objectivism, would have found permanent lodging in his impressionable brain. Late-coming contradictory concepts like Objectivist selfishness would have found no room in the inn. Meanwhile, other Objectivist fundaments, such as coldblooded rationality and calculation, would have found no counterpart in the chivalrous codes. They would have found their potential room uninhabited and untouched.
But I believe another, more complex and philosophical process is at work here: a process of discovery beginning at an ‘original position’ similar to John Rawls’ Veil of Ignorance (Rawls 326). For Bergdahl had no concept of morality in conversation with others before he met the Harrisons, his adopted and adopting family. And he had few if any presuppositions concerning the proper modes of social justice and morality. Thus his quest for and discovery of conversational morality was one of exploring uncharted lands.
But there was a difference in this particular operation of the Veil from a pure application of the Veil. The Harrison family was a preexistent society, a preexistent “cooperative venture for mutual advantage” (Rawls 326) that was not to be conformed to Bergdahl’s conceptions of justice in the original position; rather, Bergdahl’s discoveries within the original position were to be conformed to the society of the Harrison family. This meant that Bergdahl was able to search for morality and right-conduct without preconceived notions of how to properly conduct relationships and converse with fellow beings. He was free to haphazardly incorporate ideas from disparate, conflicting philosophies in an attempt to find morality. But his morality, in the end, no matter his efforts, was limited to fitting-in. Of course, after he fit in, he was free to probe the deeper, existential questions. By then, however, he was no longer in the original position.
As he matured, he kept his profound sense of chivalry, respect, and decency because they were respected. He learned that actions farther afield, such as taping his own mouth shut, relentlessly arguing (“Serial”), were annoying and intolerable. He realized that sacrifice of a self was noble – clearly the influence of Bushido – but sacrifice of the code was intolerable, in fact the greatest of all evils—clearly the influence of Atlas Shrugged. Bergdahl retained his notions of emotions as beautiful and valid lenses by which to view the world. He wrote, “I will not lose this mind, this world I have deep inside. I will not lose this passion of beauty” and “remember. REMEMBER. Imagination. Realness. To dream. The Universes. REMEMBER. Cold. Swift. Clear. Calm. Logic. Nothingness. Die here. Become empty here” (McCrummen). But he vowed to temper his emotions with reason: “These thoughts have placed themselves in my head. In my protection… I will try to use what little time this life gives me, to bring their beauty into the world…. This is the story teller’s life” (McCrummen).
However, he could never reconcile the essences, the depths of these codes. On one hand, the Bushido code glorified death, and on the other hand, Objectivism valued Life as the end of all morality. The Bushido code commanded to strive always to subject the world to morality, no matter the cost, while Objectivism commanded its followers to let the unenlightened stew in their own mess.
In sum, then, all his efforts to discover and define true morality was originally and severely limited by the necessity of finding his place in a society rather than finding the morality and reshaping the society to conform. His efforts were further, and more drastically, limited by the inevitable failure of such an impossible juxtaposition.
However, this did not deter Bergdahl from attempting to mold society according to his vision of truth and morals. But this is where he crashed upon the rocks.
* * *
Bergdahl is a vivid character, and his code of morality was a mixture of two potent philosophies of morality. This gaseous mixture engendered a compound noxious and oily, waiting for a light. Another thing about gasses: they expand, they fill empty spaces and inflate. And these gasses, these fumes of this vivid-potent mixture emanating, smoothly emitting from these iron codes, filled Bergdahl and tumefied his empty-aching heart and soul. Under orders from the Bushido Code to die if necessary while realizing the directives of reason and justice, and under direction of Objectivism to “live on the fringes of this world as a guard” (McCrummen) and pursue existence and Life to the last breath, Bergdahl was, to say the least, confused.
Consider the following statements from Bergdahl’s journal:
Bullet sponges. This is what some of the SEALs call regular Army and other mass ground troops. Its right, the job of a solder is basically to die.
Really, how pathetic i [sic] feel as i [sic] listen to people talk of the hell I will be heading to…. Compared to hell of the real wars of the past, we are nothing but camping boy scots [sic]. Hiding from children behind our heavy armored trucks and our c-wire and sand bagged operating post, we tell our selves [sic] that we are not cowards.
I want to change so much and all the time, but then my mind just locks down, as if there was some one [sic] else in my mind shutting the door in my face….
I will try to use what little time this life gives me, to bring their beauty into the world…. (McCrummen)
These entries illustrate a young man deeply torn between opposing duties, contradicting commands, between life and death. These entries illustrate a young man deeply torn and therefore unstable: a divided house cannot stand. Compounded by his schizotypal personality disorder (“Serial”), Bergdahl was a ticking time bomb. And the noxious fumes kept hissing, emanating, blinding his vision and inflating his heart until POP! Something exploded, snapped, and Bergdahl cracked. Suddenly, as if by divine revelation, he knew that he and he alone must save his fellow soldiers, his friends, and perhaps the entire United States military mission in Afghanistan.
This explosion resembles the transformation of the fictional character Rodion Raskolnikov, from Dostoevsky’s novel Crime and Punishment. Raskolnikov believes himself to be a smart, talented, and gifted young man who has theories and ideas that will drag the future into the present. Specifically, he has written an article delineating his revolutionary Extraordinary Man Theory. In the article, he implies that certain Extraordinary Men, quite distinct from the average Ordinary Man, have the right, even the obligation, to do whatever necessary to achieve ends beneficial for society. As he explains,
I believe that if certain if circumstances prevented the discovery of a Kepler or a Newton from becoming known except through the sacrifice of a man’s life, or of ten, or a hundred, or as many as you please, who prevented this discovery or blocked its path as an obstacle, Newton would have the right, he would be obliged… to remove these then men, or these hundred…. I conclude, in brief, that not only great men, but even those who are just a little out of the common ruck – those, I mean, who have something the least little bit new to say – must absolutely by their very nature be criminals. (Dostoevsky, 257)
Bergdahl believed, consciously or unconsciously, that he was an Extraordinary Man. He wrote about “this hell that pools so many fools, and they are all part of the illusion” (McCrummen). Bergdahl pondered “what good am I, my existence is that of exile. To live on the fringes of this world as a guard” (McCrummen). He, like Raskolnikov, saw himself solely as he wished.
Just as this clouded self-vision of grandeur induced Raskolnikov to murder an old woman in cold blood for the common good, so Bergdahl convinced himself that he must desert and alert for the common good. Unable to see himself for who he was – an athletic, hardworking private – Bergdahl painted a portrait of himself as Jason Bourne, Jackie Chan, or Kung Fu. He drew wings upon himself, and then like Icarus flew too near the sun. Drastic roots bear drastic branches bear drastic fruit. When “you permit bloodshed according to conscience” (Dostoevsky 260), there are wacky, chilling consequences.
Lastly, throughout Crime and Punishment an implicit feeling whispers that, just perhaps, Raskolnikov killed the old woman simply because he required money and begrudged her wealth and abrasive personality. That he killed her not for the good of society but for the good of himself, and only afterwards did he re-spin the tapestry of his crimes with a more aesthetic palate. Crime and Punishment oozes this heinous specter of unredeemable guilt. Similarly with the Bergdahl case: what if he didn’t really run away purposing to salvage the welfare of his fellow soldiers? What if he was really just disillusioned or bored, or tired or angry? After all, as a platoon mate of Bergdahl spoke about Bergdahl’s proposed justifications of his desertion: “he had some years to work on that” (“Serial”).
In the end, Crime and Punishment indirectly relates to the case itself, and the hauntingly apt parallels shed a remarkable light on Bergdahl’s predicament and actions. We see that Bergdahl’s essentially incoherent moral code tore him in two and addled his psyche until he snapped under the weight of his own imagined grandeur. This comparison to Crime and Punishment also raises an interesting question. In the event of a clash between men, such as Raskolnikov and the investigator, and their dogmas and morals, such as the decorum of society and the Extraordinary Man Theory, who wins? The strongest? Probably. But who ought to win? Now that is an entirely different question. For instance, when the Army and Bergdahl clashed, whose values are correct? Whose morals are proper? Whose vision of reality is real?
Joel Feinberg in his book The Moral Limits of Criminal Law argues that liberals ought to be dogmatic about certain beliefs, such as their individuality and morality respecting atomistic rights. Though neither Samurai, nor Rand, nor Bergdahl are liberals, Feinberg’s perspective implies an unprecedented state of affairs: liberals arguing that liberals, who are often the least dogmatic of philosophers in the fields of politics and law, ought to be dogmatic. It makes me wonder that, if liberals ought to be dogmatic, what ought conservatives, reactionaries, and Objectivists be? The point is, if we all entrench ourselves in our own maxims and Maginots, who compromises or surrenders? How do we stop WWIII?
Feinberg neither answers this question nor acknowledges it. But Alasdair MacIntyre swaddles the matter in a book titled, fittingly and creatively enough, Whose Justice? Which Rationality? We will examine his arguments in the following segment, but on a level deeper even than morality. We will touch on rationality – the ability to know – and on the known—which is the nature of reality itself.
* * *
Recall Rand’s statement: “reality is the court of final appeal” (Rand 1017). Also recall, “something exists which one perceives and that one exists possessing consciousness, consciousness being the faculty of perceiving that which exists” (1015). Finally recall: “the mind is one’s only judge of values and one’s only guide of action” (1018). This begs the question: Whose values? Whose perceptions?
In the case of Bergdahl or Raskolnikov, who have singular moralities in deep conflict with the moralities of others, whose morality is compromised? What morality is the trump suit? Whose is the weaker? More importantly, whose morality ought to be compromised, and whose morality ought to trump? In other words, whose reality is the final appeal? We are now wading into the dangerous depths of meta-values and metaethics—a Slough of Despond I would like to avoid. Instead, let us examine a concrete example: the disparities between Bergdahl’s reality and Everyone Else’s reality.
Bergdahl perceived threat and doom in the words and actions of his commanders. No one else did. So who was right? If the very fabric of reality itself differed, what reality was the court of final appeal? What meta-reality could settle the dispute? We can rationally assume that no commander in the United States’ Armed Forces would premeditatively and volitionally harm the soldiers commanded. We can make an appeal to reason.
Yet someone who tries to learn this at once encounters the fact that disputes about the nature of rationality in general and about practical rationality in particular are apparently as manifold and as intractable as disputes about justice. (MacIntyre 337)
In other words, there is no appeal to reason. But what about reality? The difficulty is that Bergdahl changed reality by running away. Any attempt to reconstruct that reality is actually an exercise in rationality—to which there is no appeal. In the end, we see the philosophical impossibility of qualifying the Army’s or Bergdahl’s reality on their own terms.
However, as a side note, I do not think the case is actually that complicated. Simply put, since Bergdahl signed the papers and joined the Army, he ceded all authority – even his visions of reality – to his commander. Once he submitted to the rules, I believe he was bound to follow them.
* * *
In conclusion, I believe that the friction between the Bushido Code of “serve others even unto death, realize all directives of reason even unto death” and the Objectivism of “serve your life first, realize all directives of reason because they lead to life” caused Bergdahl to overheat and collapse beneath the strain of carrying such a gargantuan load. He faced the task of reconciling two distinct moral codes—one more than humanly possible. Bergdahl held the world to an impossible standard and likewise held himself unconsciously to an equally unconscionable standard. He made himself into Atlas, holding up the world of morality. He perceived injustice, suffering, and mistakes, and cried out against them. In the end, then, Atlas did not shrug: Atlas roared. But in so doing, he stumbled beneath the strain.
Works Cited
Beauchamp, Tom L., compiler. Philosophical Ethics: An Introduction to Moral Philosophy. McGraw-Hill, 2001.
Clark, Tim. "The Bushido Code: The Eight Virtues of the Samurai." Art of Manliness, 1 Nov. 2018, https://www.artofmanliness.com/articles/the-bushido-code-the-eight-virtues-of-the-samurai/.
Confucius. Analects. Translated by Robert Eno, 2015. Indiana University, www.indiana.edu/~p374/Analects_of_Confucius_(Eno-2015).pdf.
Dostoevsky, Fyodor. Crime and Punishment. Signet Classic, 1968.
Feinberg, Joel. Harmless Wrongdoing. Oxford UP, 1988.
MacIntyre, Alasdair. Whose Justice? Which Rationality? 1988 ed., U Notre Dame P.
McCrummen, Stephanie. "Bergdahl's Writings Reveal a Fragile Young Man." Washington Post, 11 June 2014.
Nitobe, Inazo. Bushido: The Soul of Japan.
Nozick, Robert. Anarchy, State, and Utopia. New York, Basic Books, 1974.
Rand, Ayn. Atlas Shrugged. Plume, 1999.
Rawls, John. A Theory of Justice. Harvard UP, 1971.
“Serial”: Season Two. Hosted by Sarah Koenig, produced by “Serial” Productions, WBEZ Chicago. Transcript.
Stoppard, Tom. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. New York, Grove Press, 1967.
The Floating
The Floating
by Taylor Henley
Oh the squeezing
of my chest this morning
collapsing
I have another cup of coffee
Oh the lightness
that I am in love with
floating
I am not tethered to anything
Oh that dry heat
that turns my legs bright red
Breathless
I run my hands up and down them
I am surrounded by amateurs here
-YOU DO NOT WRITE THE RANSOM LETTER BY HAND-
This is Rule #1
You do not hold hostage the people that you love.
You do not talk non stop to any person unfortunate enough to be sitting next to you.
You don’t tell everyone “Oh, I’ve got this” when you clearly do not.
Do, WITHOUT EXCEPTION
Find the private, often inappropriate joke that life has hidden in everything
Oh the repeating pattern
spiraling out from itself
blooming
when touched
Oh the ellipses
that I live in
whispering
enjoying the quiet
-MAKE LOVE TO THE VOID-
Sounds like bad advice
When you read it on a bathroom wall
BUT
-When a poet from the Buddhist college in Colorado says this to you
You write all your friends and tell them
I HAVE FIGURED THIS SHIT OUT
You can all go home now.
Wanderer
Wanderer
by Shunta Allen
You tore my heart like paper
So, I folded it into a crane
It flew across a sea of grass that became a lion’s mane
I watched it float on rows of gold
never crinkling, tearing, or growing old
I let my heart wonder, I set it free
in hopes that one day you would bring it back to me
Oh, How We Love You
Oh, How We Love You
by Daija White
Black man, brown man: my message for you, from a woman who values and knows your truth.
Black man, brown man: From the day I was born, I vowed to protect you. Oh, how I love you!
Black man, brown man: I see power in you but it doesn’t shine as bright as it used to.
You’re hurt, you’re angry! You respond to trouble emotionally, it puts you in danger.
You get ridiculed for everything you do, you’re watched and seen as a suspect. The pressure must be heavy, don’t carry the burden alone. I feel your pain. Oh, how I love you.
Black man, brown man: be careful, think it through. You are so strong, reject the anger in you.
Black man, brown man: You seem lost and confused.
Turn back! Please! My men, there’s a better path for you.
You don’t equal drugs, mindless screaming, or stealing… I have to admit this part is less appealing.
You are beautiful! From the way you love, to the way you speak your mind…
Black man, brown man: uniquely created and oh, so passionate… Oh, how I love you!
Black man, brown man: to you I am drawn, you are breath-taking, creative, shall I go on?
You are so powerful don’t keep that inside. Let it out! Let it out! For the world to see.
Black man, brown man, you are Gods, embrace your power we all know to be.
Black man, brown man whether straight or gay. You matter! All you have to do is stay.
We need you. Your daughters light up with just the sight of you, your sons mimic you.
Teach them right from wrong, your wisdom and voice is like a sweet song.
Your partner needs that seductive, loving embrace, no one can ever take your place!
Black man, brown man: OH, HOW WE LOVE YOU!
Aging Gracefully
Aging Gracefully
by Debbie Hendryx
Please set me free from this God forsaken prison
that makes my nightmares like child’s play.
Open those cellulite doors that suffocate me
and bar my escape to the life I once knew.
The cracks that spiderweb down the wall
continue in my mirror—my face
each one earned like a soldier’s badge of honor—
at a high price.
The silver dances as it weaves in and out
between the strands of gold.
The hourglass morphs into a pear,
a cylinder and finally a ball.
The supports once strong have begun to warp and weaken
as they corrode into a raging fire
that consumes every joint
that still is capable of movement.
The pain of the day is only forgotten—
erased by my escape in the night
when for just a short flash
youth and beauty are again mine.