Canadian Soldiers (date unknown)

In World War I Canada, conscientious objector status was mostly tied to membership in a “peace church” tradition, most commonly Mennonite.  This was also the case in the U.S.  The story makes clear that Neilson’s conscientious objection is tied to his Christian faith, although doesn’t specify what tradition, and it’s clear that his neighbors perceive his objector status as a personal failing–one of courage, masculinity, or perhaps something else.  As Amy J. Shaw argues, acceptance even of religious objection was difficult within the context of a war also understood in religious terms–a type of holy war.  This gets augmented somewhat in the story by hints that he hasn’t sacrificed like the rest of them, and enjoys his status as a well-paid millwright in part because of that.

In this way, the radioplay becomes an interesting artistic meditation on conscientious objection more generally–specifically, how the same refusal can be seen as both an act of principle on the part of an individual and as that individual’s betrayal of some of the obligations that people believe bind communities together.  In a way, the neighbors’ inaction becomes a kind of reciprocation–both in helping defend him and in refusing to help him.  Now, I think that the personal violence of self-defense and the political violence of war are relevantly different, but the radioplay does force some reflection on that point.  Incidentally, this has some narrative resonance, I think, with how the mission of Captain John H. Miller’s squad in Saving Private Ryan serves as a kind of synecdoche for Steven Spielberg’s broader point about World War II).

I suspect a large part of the introduction of the Good Friday themes was driven by the proposed air date of the radioplay (and that a horror radio show might have wanted to go a slightly different direction on Good Friday out of deference to its audience).  And, as mentioned above, a religious dimension is historically accurate, as likely the only thing that would have permitted Nielson to be a “conshie” in the first place.  Interestingly enough, though, Neilson doesn’t make explicitly religious arguments himself–those characterizations of his reasons are mostly put in the mouth of Harris, the town atheist.

So, for me, most of this is just a little historical context, and perhaps some embellishment, now that Rogers, and his collaborator John Gavin Douglas are not restricted to the tighter economies of the song to develop their themes.  The point that really struck me, though, was when Harris analogizes the neighbors’ refusal to help Neilson and Jenny to the Biblical account of the crowd asking Pilate to release Barabbas instead of Jesus.  We’ve done a short series of posts on Jesus and the murder ballad, including the crowd’s rejection of Jesus, and even images of a violent Jesus.  I’m interested to know whether you think Harris’s comparison rings true.


A lot, I suppose, turns on whether you think Neilson’s act was self-defense (“You’ll never do that again, Clary.”), and what exactly Neilson sacrifices, and for whom.


Next up


With gratitude for your patience for bearing with a post that was long on prose and short on music, our next post will be mostly music, and a few more stories told by those drawn into violence, willingly or unwillingly.