Me on War (Part 2)

I think I have provided at least a generic answer to the points contained in the "Nationalistic/Patriotic" argument. Basically, most of the points of that argument have to do with some sort of divine mission that America was supposedly handed back around the time of the Founding Fathers. And that mission -- at least its pursuit, if not its success -- is supposed to trump all other considerations. Even -- or particularly -- the current notion, so dearly held by the Bush administation, that Job One for America is defending Israel -- this notion is really a subset of that original, utopian, God-given mandate. In fact, one might even say that the "advent" of the State of Israel in 1948 provided the long-sought-after rationale for what we had been doing all along, in the part of the "American experiment" that dealt with foreign relations. The fog lifted, and now it all became clear. Do I exaggerate? No -- actually I understate the case. All you have to do is listen to any number of radio or TV "Neocons" and Evangelical preachers, and you realize that this cause -- as they represent it to themselves and their listeners, and in terms of the resources they are willing to demand for its pursuit -- is something unparalleled since the Crusades. My highly-condensed anwer to this is: (1) It's not in the Bible, no matter what they say -- not by any stretch of the imagination; (2) It's none of our damn business; and (3) It's destroying us. OK, 'nuff said (for now).

Now let's consider the second major kind of reaction to the argument, which I will call the "Pacifist" view. This view was expressed quite effectively in a popular song a few years back, as follows: "War! Huh -- yeah -- what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Uh-huh." And so on. Very cool song. This is a tempting point of view, when we see the death, destruction, displacement, and impoverishment that inevitably result -- not to mention the long-term resentments and nursing of grudges that re-emerge, sooner or later, in the form of a new war. This is such a drearily common cycle, it's hardly necessary to even outline it.

Now, a familiar argument in _opposition_ to this view -- call this the "Anti-Pacifist" argument -- is that war -- whether or not the cause be just -- has a tremendous energizing effect on a society. It stimulates unified effort, patriotism, hard work, and -- paradoxically -- can result in a period of post-war prosperity, despite all the expenditures. This view can, of course, be supported by America's actual experience in the 20th Century. It is also true that war is, without a doubt, the most self-defining activity of any society. What we call "history" is, by and large, the history of war -- and the farther back one goes (into "ancient" history) the more true this becomes, since just about the only things considered worth writing down back then -- or carving on obelisks -- were records of battles and conquests. This -- perhaps unfortunate -- aspect of human nature in the aggregate is still very much with us today. Who among us does not date their own major life events, and those of their family, in terms of how they relate in time to World War I, or World War II, or Vietnam? (It's a bit revolting to think that the Iraq war -- as squalid as it is -- will someday be called into this same service.) So to sum up this particular point of view: War, for all its faults, is, in the long run, a good influence -- it's stimulating, it's toughening, and it is essential to building our image as a society and as a people.

By the way, there is a subset to the Anti-Pacifist argument that points out the advantages to society of having a way in which young men can establish, and prove, their "manhood", as well as generally blow off steam and engage in the kind of high-risk and reality-testing behavior that might actually _benefit_ society, rather than creating hazards and liabilities. I won't elaborate on this point, except to comment that just because war may _serve_ that function, it doesn't mean that it has to, or that there are no other equally effective, or better, choices.

Now, there was a time when I might have accepted the "Anti-Pacifict" view in most of its main points. Yes, there is loss of life, but even at that, how many of those small-town heroes would have been doomed to a crushingly boring and far-from-noteworthy existence if they hadn't stormed Mount Suribachi? If it's "immortality" you want, war may be (for most people) your only answer. And one is hard-pressed to define precisely what was "lost" as the result of war. Certainly, many of the "old ways" were lost, as a result of the stimulus war gives to technology, and invention, and manufacturing, and commerce. Dramatic changes -- mostly for the better -- in things as diverse as farm machinery and dental health seem to be correlated with pre- vs. postwar periods. Even the "arts" take their share -- look at war photography, for example -- or the literature, music and film work that contributes to war efforts -- or that is stimulated by _opposition_ to war. Yes, I would have cited all these things and more -- but then, a year or so ago, I went to a museum in St. Petersburg, Florida which was holding an exhibition by an artist who had lived, as a child, in the Jewish ghetto of Vilnius, Poland (now in Lithuania). The theme of his work (see: http://www.puckergallery.com/vilna.html) was not the usual Holocaust imagery of boxcars and barbed wire. It was that of a deconstructed culture -- buildings, streets, alleyways -- books, windows, doors, furniture, toys, knickknacks -- synagogues and cemeteries -- all sliced, diced, and blown into misshapen and surreal pieces, like those diagrams of cuts of meat on a butcher's wall, and piled up on, or spread out across, landscapes that were now desolate, now sunny -- but always in ruins. What he was saying, it seemed to me, was this: We lived through it, some of us survived -- many, even; life might even be better now, in many ways (remember, the museum _was_ in Florida, not Lithuania) -- but this was lost, and no power on earth can ever bring it back. So, as prosperous as people may become, as much as they may "overcome", when the deep roots of their culture are pulled up they experience a loss that can never be compensated by mere material comfort. I would almost be willing to say that this is the best single argument against war.

Now, because I have argued against the "Anti-Pacifist" viewpoint, does that make me a Pacifist? No. Because there are, indeed, things worth defending, and, yes, with violence if need be. One wonders at the -- let's call it ethically murky -- situation pacifists in this country find themselves in -- particularly in cases where an entire group or subculture is committed to pacifism, as is the case with the Amish. In the long run, they only survive because of -- i.e. their security is totally dependent on -- people who are _not_ pacifists, i.e. who are willing to go to war to defend not only their own lifestyle, hearth, and kin, but also those of the Amish. No accident that the Amish movement originated in Switzerland, and then migrated to the U.S.! Imagine how long they would have survived in Russia in the 1930s, or China in the 1960s. Now, this is not to, in any way, downgrade the Amish or their culture -- on the contrary, they can serve as examples for all of us of not only a life based on non-belligerence, but other commendable qualities like living close to the land, "low impact" lifestyles, self-sufficiency, and so on. As a people, they abound in virtues. But it bears pointing out that, historically, I cannot bring to mind a single truly pacifist society that has managed on its own, with other, non-pacifist, societies nearby, unless it was also under the -- at least tacit -- protection of another group that believed in self-defense by all available means.

[End of Part 2]