Imagine the following scenario: a young Muslim from the Islamic world joins his country’s armed forces to fight an aggressive war against an overwhelmingly Christian nation. He gains accolades for his work as a sniper, executing his job with ruthless efficiency and little remorse. He admits to viewing the war he is fighting through the prism of religion. He gets a tattoo on his arm declaring that he embraces the concept of holy war. When parliamentarians in his own country question the conduct or course of the war, he states, “How would they know? They’ve never even been in a combat situation.” After shooting someone whose widow claims he was holding a Bible rather than a gun, he answers, “I don’t shoot people with Bibles. I’d like to, but I don’t.”

How would this person be described when his story was recounted in the western press? That’s easy: He’d be described as an Islamic fundamentalist—aggressive, dangerous, and intent on evil.

Now let’s also imagine that this man was widely embraced back home: That he became the author of a bestselling book, and served as a symbol of strength used by politicians to pursue their own ends. How would the culture that lauded this man be described? Well, that too is easy. It would be said that this man’s Muslim country was full of fanatics, and, moreover, that fanaticism more broadly was celebrated—or at least not condemned—by large segments of the population.

The story I’ve laid out is precisely the one delineated by Nicholas Schmidle in his excellent, long report on the life of Chris Kyle, the sniper and bestselling author, who was killed earlier this year by a former marine with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). With one difference: Kyle was a Christian from the U.S., not a Muslim from a Muslim country. He was a U.S. Navy Seal, rather than a Muslim soldier from abroad. He spoke of wanting to kill people with Korans, not Bibles. He questioned Congressmen who had not served their country, implying that civilians should have no serious role in the conduct of war. He tattooed a “crusader’s cross” on his arm. The most he can manage to say about war crimes is that, “I am not saying war crimes should be committed,” before adding that a “warrior” like himself can’t do his fighting with “hands tied behind his back.”

I mention all this not to draw moral equivalence between Chris Kyle and someone from, say, the Taliban, because I don’t think they are morally identical, or even roughly equivalent. But the narrative Schmidle lays out goes too easy on the society in which Kyle was formed.