New Media Review: What I Want You to Know

On August 31, 2021, US President Joe Biden (2021) announced the end of the nation’s involvement in “the longest war in American history” (para. 1). The withdrawal of US military forces from Afghanistan represented a turning point in the nation’s 20-year Global War on Terror. However, the operation was beset by a series of challenges. In the weeks leading up to the announcement, President Mohammad Ashraf Ghani fled the country, the Afghan National Security Forces surrendered to the Taliban, and the Islamic State in Khorasan orchestrated a fatal attack at the Kabul International Airport (US Department of State, 2022). These outcomes resurrected longstanding questions about the broader Post 9/11 war effort, which has directly claimed up to 940,000 military and civilian lives (Watson Institute, 2023), adversely affected the physical and mental well-being of countless survivors (Cypel et al., 2023; Seal et al., 2007), and cost US taxpayers more than $8 trillion over 2 decades (Crawford, 2021). Was it worth it? Were leaders transparent? Was the mission just?

These questions are among the many confronted in Catie Foertsch’s (2023) directorial debut, What I Want You to Know. In less than 90 minutes, the documentary presents the often-overlooked perspectives of 13 American veterans, who critically reflect on their lived experiences in post 9/11 warzones. Interspersed with frequent cuts to raw wartime photos and videos, the film transports viewers in a right-seat-ride alongside veterans as they recount a shared quest for truth and justice in the backdrop of traumatic overseas experiences. Early on, participants describe an unflinching sense of pride in joining the military in response to political narratives about the mission to defend the nation’s core democratic freedoms in the wake of 9/11. This conviction is soon tempered by contrary realities on the ground overseas. After years of deception from leadership, the veterans experience moral injury—a sense of betrayal and shame resulting from violations of morally and ethically just conduct (Shay, 2014). Once home, the veterans struggle to find hope for moral repair. The film concludes by urging Americans to act as engaged citizens to help ensure government accountability and prevent unnecessary warfare in the future.

One of the documentary’s strengths lies in the vision of its two executive producers, Travis Weiner and Tommy Furlong, who are both featured combat veterans. The pair envisioned the film as a response to “civilians and government officials who referred to them as heroes but wouldn’t listen to their experiences and feelings about the wars they fought” (Meatgrinder Films, n.d., para. 1). Thus, What I Want You to Know serves as a cathartic space for similarly situated veterans to share their unfiltered assessments about deployments in support of Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom. Their honest reflections often involve visceral critiques of political leaders and their associated policies, which are courageous given service members’ traditional deference to the mission and chain of command (Atuel & Castro, 2018).

The film’s firsthand narratives and warzone footage enable viewers to accompany veterans as they gradually discover harsh truths about misrepresentations from leadership. For example, political narratives were initially spun to assure citizens that the war was being fought to “defend not only our precious freedoms, but also the freedom of people everywhere to live and raise their children free from fear” (Bush, 2001, para. 10). Americans were informed that oppressed Afghan and—later—Iraqi citizens welcomed the nation’s interventions. Yet, interactions with local citizens soon exposed the fallacy. As one veteran explained:

Questioning turned to frustration when misleading statements became outright fallacies. This was the case with at least one premise for Operation Iraqi Freedom, which involved Iraq’s purported weapons of mass destruction (Powell, 2003). Initially, the narrative was accepted by deployed service members. As one veteran suggested, “In the beginning, there was a hope that maybe there were some weapons of mass destruction” (Cueva as cited in Foertsch, 2023, 27:20). However, time brought revelations, anger, and a deep sense of moral injury:

Foertsch’s (2023) strategic integration of raw wartime imagery to highlight veteran narratives serves as another asset to the film. In an especially challenging scene, a series of photographs depict civilian casualties (1:08:39). The scene begins with a picture of local citizens mourning over body bags in formation on the ground. The image is captioned with statistics from the Watson Institute (2023) estimating the deaths of approximately 46,319 civilians in Afghanistan and as many as 210,038 in Iraq. The slideshow advances slowly as a veteran shares his perspective on the senselessness of these deaths. A final image of a father grieving over a child in an open casket emphasizes these sentiments in dramatic fashion:

Scenes such as these provide the viewer with unprecedented access to evidence of the adverse consequences of the nation’s conflicting military and nation-building objectives. Over time, service members came to wonder whether they were “creating more reasons for people to attack America because of what we were doing on the ground” (Feinberg as cited in Foertsch, 2023, 43:34). Insurgents and their preferred method of attack—improvised explosive devices—represented a shadowy form of warfare that was difficult to address. Confusion over the nature of the enemy, combined with faulty intelligence, led some US service members to distrust the local civilian population. This occasionally resulted in indiscriminate killing:

Although the documentary exposes its share of similar atrocities, it also opens the door to the prospect of moral repair. In the end, Americans are urged to participate in the democratic process to prevent these circumstances from recurring. This requires an active form of citizenship that holds elected officials accountable. However, this might not always align with popular opinion:

For all its virtues, What I Want You to Know is not without limitations. First, the film would have benefited from a more diverse sample of participants. For example, the featured veterans were all from the Army or Marine Corps. Although the movie seems to focus on ground operations, the collective dialogue might have been enriched by including veterans from the Air Force or Navy. Similarly, participants from middle-rungs of enlisted and officer cadre were overrepresented. Including a broader range of lower-enlisted and higher-ranking officers might have added depth. Moreover, there was an opportunity to include more sociodemographic diversity in terms of gender, gender identity, and sexual orientation. It might also have been interesting to compare competing perspectives from veterans who supported the war. The film could have been strengthened by elaborating on participants’ return to civilian life and including information about additional resources for those living with moral injury and related behavioral health issues.

Despite these issues, Foertsch’s (2023) work should be welcomed by war documentary enthusiasts and academics alike. It will be especially useful as a pedagogical tool for educators in university settings, perhaps with a disclaimer about the potentially challenging content (e.g., graphic violence, frequent explosions, and allegations of rampant child sexual abuse in Afghanistan). The film will serve to promote dialogue around the concept of moral injury, which has been identified as a critical concern for helping professions like social work and psychology (Reamer, 2022; Sugrue, 2019). It will likely provide equally useful contributions to programs with coursework on military-connected populations. For these reasons, What I Want You to Know is highly recommended.