The Fog of War

For those who lived through the ’60s, the name Robert McNamara provokes an entire range of emotions and experiences. But even those too young to remember the former U.S. Secretary of Defense will find Errol Morris’ amazing new film, The Fog of War, an incredibly relevant portrait of a man who helped shape the 20th century.

"I'M AT AN AGE WHERE I CAN LOOK BACK AND DRAW SOME CONCLUSIONS" — ROBERT MCNAMARA

The primary thrust of the movie is a series of interviews Morris did with McNamara (pictured right) beginning in May 2001 and continuing through the winter of 2002-03. They used Morris’ famous Interroton device, a movie camera that also allows an interviewee to look at a video monitor featuring Morris. It creates the illusion McNamara is looking directly at the audience.

“The phenomenon of McNamara interests me,” says Morris, “—how he managed the hat trick of being hated by the left, the right, and the center.... At my heart, I’m a contrarian. If people tell me I have to believe x, I’m likely to not believe x. But I’m not a knee-jerk contrarian, I’m a skeptic.” Morris was also interested in McNamara’s central role in many key events of the 20th century: the fire bombing of Tokyo during World War II, the rise of the Ford Motor Co. after the war, the Cuban Missile Crisis and, of course, the Vietnam War. “He embodies the 20th century,” says Morris. “Like Woody Allen’s Zelig, he pops up in the most unexpected places. But unlike Zelig, he doesn’t pop up in some peripheral position at the edge of the photograph. He’s right in the center of the photograph.”

"WE MAY HAVE KILLED 100,000 PEOPLE, BUT WE DIDN'T DESTROY NATIONS." — ROBERT MCNAMARA

The movie opens with McNamara’s extraordinary reflections on the Cuban Missile Crisis. Unlike the film Thirteen Days—in which the Kennedy administration looks like a well-run, thoughtful group of men struggling but succeeding to make the best of a difficult situation—Robert McNamara makes the whole conflict seem like a roll of the dice. If one mid-level State Dept. official hadn’t been in the room at a certain time, JFK might have heeded the bellicose advice of his generals and bombed Cuba, a move which would’ve certainly provoked an all-out nuclear war. “We lucked out,” McNamara practically shouts into the camera, the implications clear and deeply troubling.

This segment leads to the first of what Morris has dubbed “Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert McNamara”—“Empathize with your enemy.” The rest of the movie is structured both chronologically and around the other 10 rules, which include #2 “Rationality Will Not Save Us,” #7 “Belief and Seeing Are Both Often Wrong” and #11 “You Won’t Change Human Nature.” If that sounds too much like a dry history lesson, fear not. It’s rather an exhilarating ride through the realms of foreign policy, psychology, history, and human nature.

"THE HUMAN RACE NEEDS TO THINK MORE ABOUT KILLING, MORE ABOUT CONFLICT. IS THAT WHAT WE WANT IN THE 21ST CENTURY?" — ROBERT MCNAMARA

Most viewers will come to the movie interested to hear McNamara expound on the Vietnam War, but his reflections on WWII prove even more illuminating. In one of the most riveting interviews seen on film, McNamara recounts how the fire-bombing of Tokyo was designed—with ruthless efficiency. He then describes the subsequent bombing of 66 other Japanese cities, ending with the admission that, if the U.S. had lost the war, he would almost certainly have been tried as a war criminal. It’s an absolutely startling claim, especially given that he’s referring not to Vietnam, but to the “Good War.”

Morris amplifies this section with his customarily helpful archival footage. Rarely seen movies of fire-bombed Japanese cities contrast with McNamara’s trembling mouth and hands. The coup de grace, though, comes through a simple use of text. Morris puts up the name of a Japanese city and lists both how many people were killed and what percentage of the population (often 50-70% of the total population). Then the city’s name dissolves into the equivalent American city: Tokyo becomes New York, Kyoto becomes Washington D.C. The names change, as the death toll mounts. By equating Japanese and American cities, the film strikes home the enormity of the destruction. And as each city is listed, Morris’ editing grows ever faster, creating an indelible momentum that’s unnerving.

"WHAT MAKES US OMNISCIENT? DO WE HAVE A RECORD OF OMNISCIENCE?" — ROBERT MCNAMARA