Marvel and the Military: It's Complicated
Can Marvel really be subversive or does it only perpetuate the status quo?
Warning: Spoilers for The Falcon and The Winter Soldier!
It's no secret that Marvel, along with many prominent Hollywood studios, has had a long-standing and often confusing relationship with the American military — at times seemingly criticising it and at others unequivocally glorifying it. The paradoxical nature of this relationship is evident in Marvel's most recent offerings, Wandavision and, of course, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, as well as in its classic properties like the Iron Man franchise, Captain Marvel (2019) and the popular Marvel-Netflix production, The Punisher (2017-2019).
In each of these, Marvel pursues a plot that, on the surface, appears to deconstruct different aspects of militarism and the military industrial complex, yet ultimately fails to definitively condemn them. Iron Man (2008), for example, follows Tony Stark's journey to redemption after he witnesses firsthand the consequences of his life's work as a weapons manufacturer. Tony shuts down the weapons division of Stark Industries, but then ironically proceeds to build a weaponised suit of armour for himself (and later grants one to his friend Rhodey, a prominent figure in the Air Force who afterwards goes unironically by the name of 'War Machine'). Besides indicating conservative individualism, Tony's decision to begin personally engaging in violence renders his shutdown of Stark Industries' weapons division symbolic at best, and hypocritical and performative at worst.
Similarly, Captain Marvel seems to condemn the militarised society of the Kree and its imperialist tendencies, sympathising instead with the Skrull refugees. But despite this seemingly progressive stance, Marvel partnered with the Air Force and used the promotion of Captain Marvel as a recruitment opportunity, which ended up seeing record numbers of women enlist in the Air Force. Like most Hollywood studios, Marvel understands that presenting a progressive stance is important for its young target audiences, which comprise the more politically progressive millennial and Gen-Z generations; but, also like most Hollywood studios, Marvel cannot so easily forsake its symbiotic relationship with the military industrial complex.
Something that Marvel probably did not intend, however, was the appropriation of The Punisher by blatantly racist police, which should have made Marvel think twice about what message it is actually communicating. As a matter of fact, Gerry Conway, creator of The Punisher, was forced to defend his creation last year when police co-opted the character's famous skull symbol in an attempt to fire back at the Black Lives Matter protests. There was almost an amusing irony about the situation because, as Conway said, "the Punisher represents a failure of the justice system... He’s supposed to indict the collapse of social moral authority, and the reality is some people can't depend on institutions like the police or the military to act in a just and capable way.” This reminder remains pertinent since even the Netflix show, which saw the character’s popularity soar, seems to be occasionally confused about the Punisher's fundamental symbolism. Viewing The Punisher as the consequence of the military industrial complex is not only key to understanding him, but crucial to avoiding the dangerous misconception that he is some kind of hero that one should aspire to, the way police officers seemed to do. The fact that the police (whose role, according to Angela Davis, has always been "to protect white supremacy,"), was able to draw such an interpretation of the Punisher is unfortunate, but not surprising. Marvel's inability to adopt a clear position on its views of the military industrial complex is fully intentional, as evidenced by its longtime partnerships with the Pentagon, the FBI, the Air Force, and weapons manufacturers.
Meanwhile, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier engages in a plot which, much like The Punisher, initially appears to criticise a corrupt establishment that fails its veterans and takes advantage of its members. The first episode sees Sam Wilson, who is on a government contract as the titular Falcon, carry out a mission assigned to him by the American military that is suspiciously fraught with danger. We get further clues about the dubious intentions of the military when Sam suspects that his drone was being sabotaged by them, or when they stab him in the back by giving the role of Captain America to a creep of their own choosing. The nature of Sam's 'government contract' also dangerously mirrors the relationship that Bucky formerly had with Hydra as the Winter Soldier: that of a hired killer being used to mercilessly eliminate any threats to the institution's interests with no regard for collateral damage. This is evident in the show's first air-borne action sequence in which Sam single-handedly murders several people and decimates the natural landscape of the foreign country in which he is engaging in nearly-illegal military activity. And yet. The whole sequence is designed to impress, having been used as one of the principal marketing clips for the show for months, most prominently in the show's popular Superbowl trailer. The show in general appears to be a testosterone-fest reminiscent of the Fast and Furious franchise, featuring multiple explosions and some delightful 'manly banter' between the two protagonists that includes the line, "That little girl kicked your ass!" All of which feels suspiciously like a a glorification of militarist culture.
Therefore, despite its efforts to delve into more progressive politics in terms of race and class, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier fails to take a strongly critical view of the military industrial complex and the culture it encourages. It buys into the “few bad apples” narrative by burdening John Walker with the sole responsibility of personifying the wrongs of the establishment; even when Walker angrily points out the hypocrisy of the establishment by saying that he is only a product of the system that created him, the show goes to great lengths to emphasise that Walker himself is fundamentally flawed — as opposed to Sam Wilson who, despite his identical background as a soldier who has also engaged in questionable violence, is somehow inherently more worthy of being a hero.
The show’s finale slightly redeems Walker when he chooses to save the not-so-innocent politicians instead of murdering Karli, the revolutionary, in a moment of… heroism? That is, before he gleefully joins Madame Hydra in her undisclosed evil plans. The additional reveal that Sharon Carter is the Power Broker leaves us with the question: who is the true villain? The corrupt military establishment, the unhinged Walker, or the women of the show? The finale seems to suggest that it’s the latter two, meaning that ultimately, The Falcon and The Winter Soldier does not intend to subvert the establishment. Whatever subtextual commentary the show makes about the hypocrisy of the military and the government is performative at best, and ultimately falls short by failing to address the murderous legacy of Captain America beyond the exploitation of black men. It contents itself with some relevant commentary on race, class, and issues of morality. But does it question the imperialist nature of the American military (demonstrated by their ability to conduct all sorts of operations on foreign soil without accountability)? Does it question the role that Captain America played in forming American militarist culture? No. It chooses to bend over backwards to try to salvage Captain America from his roots as military propaganda by rebranding him as a black man, despite the show’s own insistence that the truth behind the star-studded shield is black men’s pain. Sam’s own steadfast devotion to Captain America, despite knowing the shield’s racist history, suggests that American individualism and the belief in American infallibility (sentiments that have historically been cultivated by the military industrial complex) will continue to endure.
Moreover, considering Sam’s new role, it can be argued that the military industrial complex is whitewashing itself by exploiting progressive movements such as the push for diversity, and using them to uphold the status quo. Wandavision partakes in this by making the likeable FBI agent Jimmy Woo the character foil to the villain, S.W.O.R.D Director Tyler Hayward. While Wandavision attempts to make some vague allusions to military corruption through Hayward, Jimmy Woo is there to reassure us that the system is not flawed because the good guys are there to save the day. The FBI cannot be a harmful institution because people like Jimmy Woo are its true heroes, while the exceptions are just a few bad apples. And furthermore, it is S.W.O.R.D agent Monica Rambeu, daughter of Captain Marvel's BFF, Maria Rambeu (herself an Air Force pilot), that emerges as one of the new heroes of Marvel's Phase 4 alongside Wanda, and now Sam.
Ironically, the propagandist roots of Captain America are something that Steve Rogers himself struggles with in the Avengers films, which is why he ultimately forsakes the identity and turns against the establishment. If Steve had chosen to retire Captain America for the right reasons, why does Marvel try so hard to ignore that decision? Because, just like in the show itself, the military industrial complex wants to keep the idea of Captain America alive to serve its own purposes. The show is just a way of upgrading Captain America to match the times. Given all of this, and Marvel's questionable history with the military institutions, the most we can expect from Marvel productions is a superficial, half-hearted criticism of the military industrial complex alongside a heavy dose of military propaganda.
By R. Jordan Ortiz, for the Tea Room
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