British brigadier Alan Sharpe has written a paper in which he bemoans the blustering approach of the Americans beside whom he served in Iraq and criticises the "strong streak of Hollywood" that seemingly compels American officers to "portray themselves as Sylvester Stallone or John Wayne".

An important part to being a successful American officer was to be able to combine the "real and acted heroics" of Audie Murphy, the "newsreel antics" of General Douglas MacArthur and the "movie performances" of Hollywood actors, the brigadier wrote.

While this might look good on television at home, the brigadier suggested that "loud voices, full body armour, wrap-around sunglasses, air strikes and daily broadcasts from shoulder-holster wearing brigadier-generals proudly announcing how many Iraqis have been killed by US forces today" was no "hearts-and-minds winning tool".

I suspect there are none too few Americans who would take umbrage at Sharpe's categorisation of our officers, but, as it happens, I'm not one of them. Being a card-carrying American progressive, a group entirely comprised - in the minds of our critics - of self-loathing, America-hating, troops-undermining lunatics, I am certainly easily dismissed as simply agreeing just because I am congenitally predisposed to agree with any disparagement of my country or any of its people. But the truth is, Sharpe's words resonate with me because I see evidence of the same across our culture.

It's neither the sole fault, nor the exclusive purview, of military officers that they imagine themselves stars. We are a nation of starfuckers, and ergo we produce an inordinate amount of schmucks who aspire to stardom. They clamour for their place to sing their way to fame and fortune on American Idol, race their way on The Amazing Race, scheme their way on Survivor, wrestle and scream their way on The Jerry Springer Show, weep their way on Dr Phil, reclaim their momentum on the myriad of reality shows for D-list celebs, and on and on and on. Andy Warhol was only slightly off in his 15 minute estimate; instead it's usually an hour - minus commercials.

Many of them don't even need to be stuck in front of a camera to play the roles they feel destined to play. Everyone knows what it means when someone is described as "the star of her own show". Of course, when it's a receptionist who's playing at being one of the Sex and the City girls, it might be insufferable, but when it's a military man who's convinced himself he's Colonel Mike Kirby, it could be tragic.

Sharpe was certainly not recounting a phenomenon with which any American, who's being honest, is unfamiliar. (In reality, for many people who would take offence at the categorisation of our military officers as showmen that is precisely what they like about them.) Ever since Schwarzkopf was turned into a star, I've often been struck by the posturing of many of our military leaders when I've seen them interviewed. And there's a weird thing that happens within me when I see one of them: I feel the snark rising in my gut - "Get a load of this guy; who does he think he is, Rambo?"- which then gives way to a guilt that is drawn from existing under the air of suspicion with which all anti-war progressives are regarded, having spent the last few years accused of everything from simply not supporting the troops to outright treason: "Does this attitude mean I really don't support the troops?"

And then I think of Wes Clark.

His lack of chest-thumping bravado reminds me that not all officers are like that and casts into stark relief the reason why it's so unfortunate that there are those who are. When you're playing the role of action star, it must be pretty easy not to care about the extras - who have the distinct misfortune of being dependent upon your caring about them, when they're the people you're meant to be liberating.

Yet if Clark is the exception, rather than the rule, it's only because he resists a compulsion that grips a wide swath of our country, as we collectively succumb to the decidedly American tradition of looking west, once to a wild frontier and now to the siren song of stardom that Hollywood promises. Life is but a soundstage.

And no one knows it better than our star-in-chief.

Heck, he's even got his own action figure.

What Sharpe saw in our military is something that permeates our entire culture, from the top down. Celebrity is celebrated, and it isn't just in Iraq that one can find Americans in danger of blinding themselves from the light of their own stars.