I’ve come across a few articles in recent times on the subject of whether or not to allow children to play with toys that depict or relate to war, firearms, etc.. as well as playing the common “bang-bang-you’re-dead” style of games. The two camps are generally of the view that it is either a horrible activity that only teaches children murder and violence or it is a great way to teach children the meaning of the importance of our national protectors who risk all to ensure our security. Quite frankly, I think everyone needs to take a reality check on the issue.
While the parents debate the issue back and force, painting the nature of the toys in their own flavor of politics, the kids seem to still be running around in the background having fun pretending to be good guys or bad guys, cops or robbers, heroes or villains all the while ignoring whatever nonsense their parents shout at each other. That grown-up talk is always a tiresome bore to kids with more important tasks at hand. The fact of the matter is that Pacifism, Militarism or any other “isms” are just not needed in their world at this point. What the kids are exploring is the nature of differences, right and wrong, conflict and all the other base elements of human society. Children understand (if you parents are doing your job) that playing the role of the robber or bad guy does not equate to approving of their behavior. They know that in the end they will get caught or lose the war, it is, after all, how it goes down on their favorite shows and movies. GI Joe always saves the day and Rambo always takes out the Commies. That’s why most fights at the start of a “war-game” are over who gets to be the good guys or the cops. Maybe if you have a kid who always insists on being the head of the SS you might have a problem, but I’d have to wager that’s a rare case. Parents should be happy that at least they understand there is a right or wrong. Indifference is the worst evil of all.
I remember when I played these games as a child it was never about violence or even about expressing military might. It was the simple enjoyment of pretending to be a hero, emulating the brave doughboys in WWII movies or running down the perps like TJ Hooker. Heck, I even yelled “Yeehaw” as a jumped my bike over ramps, but I never felt inclined to run from the cops or help my uncle to run shine (for the record, none of my uncles have stills that I know of.) It’s just another case of parents prematurely barging in on their childrens’ simple playful imaginations with the ugly realities of the confusing muddled world we adults create for ourselves.
I grew up with my own arsenal that consisted of everything from a faux bolt action .22 rifle and squirt guns closely resembling UZIs and miniature AK-47s to F-14 Tomcats and even futuristic fighting machines. To date I can proudly say I have neither slaughtered innocent people needlessly nor did I rush right out to join the military at 18. I do, however, occasionally get the inclination to enter my car through the window as opposed to opening the door.
