First, I want to point out that I was not inspired by Clint Eastwood’s “Bridges of Madison County” to write this column as one might assume by the tittle. For the record, I did not like that film or its topic.  In fact, it is the only Eastwood film I don’t like and have never seen more than once.  Oh, yeah, I am not fond of the films with the orangutan either.

The only reason I can imagine that Clint did the orangutan movies is because he was experiencing a period of low self-esteem as an actor.  He must have thought to himself, “I am not at my best. I better not do a movie with a famous co-star I cannot out-act.  I got it. I’ll costar with a monkey. Anyone can out-act a monkey.”  Just to be sure, I understand that Clint demanded that he get all the good lines.
 
Instead, I was inspired to write this column by another movie, Tom Tykwer’s “The International.”  More specifically, I was inspired by one line from this movie, delivered by the main character, Louis Salinger, who is played by Clive Owen.  Salinger is a troubled champion for truth faced with making a hard decision. At the penultimate moment, Clive Owen delivers the movie’s most insightful line as naturally as the pope saying the Our Father.

If you have not seen this film, you should.   It is well worth it.  But, don’t worry. You can read on, I am not going to spoil the plot.    

The line is “Sometimes the hardest thing in life is to know which bridges to cross and which bridges to burn.”  I have to admit, I did not catch this oft-quoted line the first few times I saw the movie (I pull it out whenever I am feeling especially underdog-ish—which is quite often the case while I am in Haiti).
 
I think the line struck me this time for a few reasons. First, I recently started playing the game Risk again. Besides the normal borders between countries, Risk has “strategic bridges” between the continents that provide an opportunity for one opponent to attack another.  Without going into to detail about these somewhat arbitrary connections, it suffices to say these bridges can be extremely painful when left open. Unfortunately, the game does not give the option to burn them.

Second, I have been conscious lately of the way that pursuing a particular truth tends to force one to cross some bridges while at the same time burning others.  In my experience, being on a defined mission drives one forward. This necessitates crossing into new territories while at least closing, if not burning, past connections. Maybe, this is what Tom Wolfe meant when he said that we cannot go home again.

I have also been watching my son prepare for making his first big life decision: what college to attend. Like all young men, he has a greater capacity for conviction than for clarity of thought.  However, he will soon choose a bridge to cross and others will be burnt.  It is both difficult and exciting to watch him struggle towards his own point of no return.
 
Observing him in this dilemma, I am reminded of Yeats’ description of himself at fifteen as an “antique brass cannon full of shot.” He wrote that the only thing that kept him from going off was his doubt in his ability to shoot straight.  Fortunately, my son is nearly 18 and his aim is improving. 

Certainly, real world politics is more complex than games like Risk or the simplistic world presented in action movies; however, it also occurred to me upon watching “The International” yet again that President Obama may find Salinger’s warning helpful. There are a lot of bridges in our interconnected world. Can we afford to maintain them all and still hold fast to our values?   Is it not possible that talks with slow-to-change nations, such as China or Iran, may be better conducted over simple phone lines than bridges?

In the myriad affairs that involve bridges, prudence requires a willingness to keep as well as to burn—to be sure.