shereads
Sloganless
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2003
- Posts
- 19,242
A year or so ago, I clicked a link at Salon.com that offered a view of the Iraq war as it had been seen in foreign newspapers but not at home. I looked for no longer than the few seconds it took to understand what I was seeing:
The face of a sleeping boy. Beautiful, maybe seven or eight years old, enjoying the depth of rest that my dad used to call "the sleep of a clean conscience," enviable because it's unavailable to anybody except young children and dumb animals.
It took a second or two to see that the face was no longer fully attached to its head.
I had just recently read this statement by then and current Assistant Secretary of Defense, Paul Wolfowitz, quoted for the record in Vanity Fair:
"We chose WMD as the reason {to solicit support for the Iraq invasion} because it was the one reason everybody could agree on."
The implications of those two pieces of information - the dead child, the statement that there was a choice - have colored the way I view my role in the world, and yours, ever since. I understand the meaning of "collateral damage," and that each of us deals in our own way with the necessity of taking some innocent lives in wartime. I also know that our country gives its leaders the right to take us to war and limit some of our freedoms for the duration, when there is a clear and present danger to the security of the United States. Not a contained threat, not a potential threat that might someday develop into a clear and present danger.
Not when there is a choice.
Not when the danger to America is unclear, to the extent that cabinet meetings are held to determine the best way to persuade us that a present danger exists, of sufficient urgency to require the sacrifice of our sons and daughters.
I thought Wolfowitz's admission would cause an outpouring of righteous anger; it caused a trickle, limited mostly to people who had already spoken out against the war. Then the evidence of fraud began to be revealed, beginning with the forged "yellow cake uranium" documents and following, one after another, until the presence of a clear and present danger was so illusory that its perpetrators were reduced to chanting "Stay the course."
I'm writing this to explain to anyone who's listening, why the topic of politics is no longer "just politics" for me: we killed a child. You and I, if you are a citizen of the U.S. or Britain and you have the right to vote, are complicit in the unlawful death of the sleeping boy whose face was ripped from his body during the bombing of Baghdad. For anyone no longer clinging to an illusion, or who lacks faith that the war is the will of God, there is evidence that would convince the most reluctant jury that the death of this child more resembles a negligent homicide than an act of self-defense. We allowed it to happen, whether we allowed ourselves to be deceived, or whether we suspected the truth and failed to devote our lives to stopping it.
Multiply the one child by many, and add the young men and women in our military whose sacrifice has been proven unnecessary, and you have an event of such magnitude, it can be debated with civility only by those who are lucky enough that it doesn't rend their hearts.
Add the diversion of resources that might have secured our borders and brought justice to the victims of 9/11; add the consequences of the Iraq invasion, which won't be fully known for generations, and I'm both appalled and grateful that any of us are still able to escape it occasionally, working some internal, emotional "off" button that allows us to play, flirt, laugh, post silly non-sequitors, catty remarks and deeply considered discussions of philosophy.
For some of us, it's possible to reserve our grief and remorse for our own dead, and to consider the loss of life in even an unwarranted war as something unfortunate that doesn't touch them deeply.
I don't hate those people; in fact, I envy them. But when a discussion trivializes the death of that sleeping boy by directing anger anywhere but where it rightly belongs, they need to realize that they are dealing with grief that's as deep for some of us as they feel when the deaths are closer to home.
You might never understand those of us who won't or can't accept the distinction that makes dying in the rubble of the World Trade Center more horrific than dying in the rubble of your bedroom in Iraq. But what we feel is real, and it sometimes horrifies us to see that not everyone shares it. That's not a criticism of your own hearts, which I know are touched by other things. It's just a fact.
This isn't a political divide. It's an unbridgeable divide between two halves of society that can't quite click at the center: those whose hearts hurt for every unnecessary death, and even more when we know ourselves to be complicit; and those who use "bleeding heart" to connote a weakness of character.
I think they're right about that. Empathy that isn't contained within appropriate borders makes us weaker than those who have the luxury of experiencing the world as "America" and "Other." It's a weakness that will probably assure that there is never a long-lasting liberal power in the U.S.
It's also a weakness when we try to debate rationally, without revealing the part of our anger that's directed at you for not sharing our grief and rage at what we, together, have allowed to be done in our name.
On the other hand, when I picture the world you would make without us to hold you back, I know our bleeding hearts are of benefit to you whether you appreciate it or not.
I caused an oh-so-dramatic scandal in the AH a few months ago when I posted a link to the Faces of the Fallen, accompanied by a political statement, and was accused of somehow having insulted our war dead, as if I had posted not a link, but pictures and names that you were tricked into looking at. It was said that I used these fallen kids for my political agenda. You're right about one thing, I do have an agenda. I want justice for the ones who might not have willingly offered their lives if they hadn't been presented with false evidence that their sacrifice was protecting their homeland from a clear and present danger. i want justsice for the child that died for the wrong reasons. I derive no comfort from the fact that he might have grown up to hate America, or that he might have someday been a victim of Saddam Hussein; because there is also the possibiility that he would have grown up to lead a free Iraq, to help defeat Saddam, or to celebrate the old bastard's death by natural causes. We'll never know.
Some of you will be additionally pissed off because I posted this. Most of you will ignore it. A few of you, and I already know who they are, will understand.
Thank you in advance. You don't have to say anything.
I'll bump this link until I feel better about the accusations of unwarranted vitriol and malice. I think the malice in the Moore movie was more than justified; the vitriol on my part probably wasn't, but it was one of those times when the face of that little boy seemed to demand that I not keep quiet. In the end, how could a movie about the carelessness with which we killed that child, not be colored with rage?
The face of a sleeping boy. Beautiful, maybe seven or eight years old, enjoying the depth of rest that my dad used to call "the sleep of a clean conscience," enviable because it's unavailable to anybody except young children and dumb animals.
It took a second or two to see that the face was no longer fully attached to its head.
I had just recently read this statement by then and current Assistant Secretary of Defense, Paul Wolfowitz, quoted for the record in Vanity Fair:
"We chose WMD as the reason {to solicit support for the Iraq invasion} because it was the one reason everybody could agree on."
The implications of those two pieces of information - the dead child, the statement that there was a choice - have colored the way I view my role in the world, and yours, ever since. I understand the meaning of "collateral damage," and that each of us deals in our own way with the necessity of taking some innocent lives in wartime. I also know that our country gives its leaders the right to take us to war and limit some of our freedoms for the duration, when there is a clear and present danger to the security of the United States. Not a contained threat, not a potential threat that might someday develop into a clear and present danger.
Not when there is a choice.
Not when the danger to America is unclear, to the extent that cabinet meetings are held to determine the best way to persuade us that a present danger exists, of sufficient urgency to require the sacrifice of our sons and daughters.
I thought Wolfowitz's admission would cause an outpouring of righteous anger; it caused a trickle, limited mostly to people who had already spoken out against the war. Then the evidence of fraud began to be revealed, beginning with the forged "yellow cake uranium" documents and following, one after another, until the presence of a clear and present danger was so illusory that its perpetrators were reduced to chanting "Stay the course."
I'm writing this to explain to anyone who's listening, why the topic of politics is no longer "just politics" for me: we killed a child. You and I, if you are a citizen of the U.S. or Britain and you have the right to vote, are complicit in the unlawful death of the sleeping boy whose face was ripped from his body during the bombing of Baghdad. For anyone no longer clinging to an illusion, or who lacks faith that the war is the will of God, there is evidence that would convince the most reluctant jury that the death of this child more resembles a negligent homicide than an act of self-defense. We allowed it to happen, whether we allowed ourselves to be deceived, or whether we suspected the truth and failed to devote our lives to stopping it.
Multiply the one child by many, and add the young men and women in our military whose sacrifice has been proven unnecessary, and you have an event of such magnitude, it can be debated with civility only by those who are lucky enough that it doesn't rend their hearts.
Add the diversion of resources that might have secured our borders and brought justice to the victims of 9/11; add the consequences of the Iraq invasion, which won't be fully known for generations, and I'm both appalled and grateful that any of us are still able to escape it occasionally, working some internal, emotional "off" button that allows us to play, flirt, laugh, post silly non-sequitors, catty remarks and deeply considered discussions of philosophy.
For some of us, it's possible to reserve our grief and remorse for our own dead, and to consider the loss of life in even an unwarranted war as something unfortunate that doesn't touch them deeply.
I don't hate those people; in fact, I envy them. But when a discussion trivializes the death of that sleeping boy by directing anger anywhere but where it rightly belongs, they need to realize that they are dealing with grief that's as deep for some of us as they feel when the deaths are closer to home.
You might never understand those of us who won't or can't accept the distinction that makes dying in the rubble of the World Trade Center more horrific than dying in the rubble of your bedroom in Iraq. But what we feel is real, and it sometimes horrifies us to see that not everyone shares it. That's not a criticism of your own hearts, which I know are touched by other things. It's just a fact.
This isn't a political divide. It's an unbridgeable divide between two halves of society that can't quite click at the center: those whose hearts hurt for every unnecessary death, and even more when we know ourselves to be complicit; and those who use "bleeding heart" to connote a weakness of character.
I think they're right about that. Empathy that isn't contained within appropriate borders makes us weaker than those who have the luxury of experiencing the world as "America" and "Other." It's a weakness that will probably assure that there is never a long-lasting liberal power in the U.S.
It's also a weakness when we try to debate rationally, without revealing the part of our anger that's directed at you for not sharing our grief and rage at what we, together, have allowed to be done in our name.
On the other hand, when I picture the world you would make without us to hold you back, I know our bleeding hearts are of benefit to you whether you appreciate it or not.
I caused an oh-so-dramatic scandal in the AH a few months ago when I posted a link to the Faces of the Fallen, accompanied by a political statement, and was accused of somehow having insulted our war dead, as if I had posted not a link, but pictures and names that you were tricked into looking at. It was said that I used these fallen kids for my political agenda. You're right about one thing, I do have an agenda. I want justice for the ones who might not have willingly offered their lives if they hadn't been presented with false evidence that their sacrifice was protecting their homeland from a clear and present danger. i want justsice for the child that died for the wrong reasons. I derive no comfort from the fact that he might have grown up to hate America, or that he might have someday been a victim of Saddam Hussein; because there is also the possibiility that he would have grown up to lead a free Iraq, to help defeat Saddam, or to celebrate the old bastard's death by natural causes. We'll never know.
Some of you will be additionally pissed off because I posted this. Most of you will ignore it. A few of you, and I already know who they are, will understand.
Thank you in advance. You don't have to say anything.
I'll bump this link until I feel better about the accusations of unwarranted vitriol and malice. I think the malice in the Moore movie was more than justified; the vitriol on my part probably wasn't, but it was one of those times when the face of that little boy seemed to demand that I not keep quiet. In the end, how could a movie about the carelessness with which we killed that child, not be colored with rage?
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