Satirical talk-show host Stephen Colbert makes political points with a deadpan delivery. (Adam Rountree/Associated Press)

Four and a half years since launching the second Iraq war, U.S. forces look strained and beleaguered; the forces of ridicule, however, remain hearty and unabashed. On Oct. 20, The Onion ran the headline: “U.S. finishes a ‘strong second’ in Iraq war.” Talk-show host Stephen Colbert recently treated his audience to a glimpse of his Iraq war scrapbook, which includes the (fake) codpiece from the flight suit U.S. President George W. Bush wore on the U.S.S. Lincoln in May 2003 to prematurely announce “Mission Accomplished.” (“Mmmm,” Colbert said, leaning over the item in question. “Still smells like victory.”) As though to follow up, a character in the comic strip Get Your War On mused, “If Turkey invades northern Iraq, we should try selling them a Mission Accomplished banner. I know where you can get one cheap.”

It would be foolish to suggest that mockery can comfort us in times of war — nothing can, except a ceasefire. Nor can we expect a piece of satire to contain the research and nuance of a non-fiction account like Frank Rich’s The Greatest Story Ever Sold: The Decline and Fall of Truth from 9/11 to Katrina. But with its built-in irreverence, satire sure does cut through the hand wringing, sentimentality and mulish rhetoric that defines so much wartime commentary.

Satires upend romantic notions of war, as well as the justifications that incite and sustain it. Joseph Heller’s 1961 novel Catch-22 is a watershed in the genre. A dazzling, defiant screed about U.S. bombardiers on the Italian island of Pianosa during the Second World War, the book exemplifies the idea of battle as a no-win situation; the title has since become part of everyday English. Lesser known but equally sharp is William Eastlake’s Castle Keep (1965). Based largely on Eastlake’s own experiences in the Second World War, it tells the story of a group of U.S. soldiers tasked to protect the denizens of a 10th-century Belgian castle — an aging nobleman and his nubile wife — from the encroaching Germans. Eastlake’s rollicking yet reflective novel captures the lunacy of combat, as well as the ennui, sexual reveries and make-do merriment that fill a soldier’s downtime. Castle Keep also makes a case for laughter in the crush of battle. “You can’t run war without outrageous humour,” declares one character, Private First Class Alistair Benjamin. “It’s the only way the soldier has of fighting back. It’s the only weapon he has got against his own side.”

Indeed, most satires of war don’t lampoon the enemy; rather, the central characters inevitably question their own side. In Catch-22, the Germans — the nominal foe — are barely mentioned; Heller’s true target is the U.S. army apparatus. The point is mordantly demonstrated in the fact that the more missions bomber pilot (and protagonist) John Yossarian flies, the more he has to complete before being allowed to go home. The comic preoccupation of Stanley Kubrick’s classic film Dr. Strangelove (1964) was not the Soviet Union, but the United States’ Cold War paranoia.

Canada does not have a comparable tradition of war satire, largely because the country is a lightweight power, and because our foreign policy has never been overly driven by ideology. Since the late ’50s, Canada’s role has been that of international peacekeeper, notably in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Rwanda. Having avoided the morass of Iraq, Canada is nonetheless entangled in another war: Afghanistan. While Canada is playing a large role in rebuilding the devastated country, it has also participated in attacks on Taliban fighters. Because Canada has the highest casualty rate of any armed forces involved there, Afghanistan is a subject of deep national concern. Few satirists have seen fit to tackle it.

One of the few examples was a 2006 skit on This Hour Has 22 Minutes, in which a television host interviews two panelists — a military analyst and a Conservative Party MP — about Afghanistan. The sketch makes fun of our collective squeamishness about the mission:

Military analyst: “I think when talking about the situation in Afghanistan, the key thing you must understand is that I support our troops —”

Host: “Agreed. There can be no meaningful discussion of this issue unless Canadians understand that I, also, support the troops.”

Conservative MP: “Indeed. I support both your support of the troops, and would like to add my own support to the support of the troops that you previously supported.”

Why are satires of war so self-reflective? For one thing, while we think we know the enemy, due to a lack of information or language barriers, they remain largely inscrutable. Parodies also enable us to examine the validity of war and each side’s feelings of moral superiority; they question the notion of “the good guys.” Although set during the Korean conflict, everyone knows that the series M*A*S*H (1972-83) was a condemnation of the U.S. venture in Vietnam. In one episode, the mobile medical unit ends up operating on a family of Koreans accidentally bombed by U.S. planes. “They were probably asking for it,” says chief surgeon Hawkeye Pierce (Alan Alda) caustically, “washing their babies, having their breakfast, committing other acts of aggression.” The marionette comedy Team America: World Police (2004) may have featured a riotous caricature of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il, but the film was ultimately a send-up of the hubris of the U.S. military, a fact made clear in the theme song: “America, f--- yeah / coming again to save the motherf---in’ day, yeah.”

Some art goes even further, painting soldiers as criminals. In David O. Russell’s Three Kings (1999), a group of servicemen during the 1991 Persian Gulf War connive to steal Kuwaiti gold from an Iraqi bunker. In Buffalo Soldiers (2001), a jaded U.S. soldier (Joaquin Phoenix) stationed in West Germany during the final days of the Cold War runs a profitable sideline selling drugs and illegal arms.

These images of the home side are quite dark — some might call them cynical, anti-American, even. But if there is one idea that unites most satires of war, it’s that a soldier’s loyalties can sometimes be as messy as combat itself.

Andre Mayer writes about the arts for CBCNews.ca.

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