Post by wyldberi on May 27, 2007 20:52:35 GMT -5
www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/co ... x1%3Cbr%3E
I don't believe there are too many things in life that would be worse than to have someone knock on my front door and hand me a check in "compensation" for my son's life who died in Iraq on behalf of the policy decisions of george w. bush.
While I can imagine myself attacking the person who would dare hand me such an instrument, I can't imagine myself cashing that check, unless doing so was part of an act of revenge in hiring a mafia hit-man to work some sort of justice on my son's behalf and to aswage my own guilt and grief.
This father rightly chose to judge his own actions as being inadequate to protect his son's life. He did fail his son. Just as I did, and just as you did.
But playing collective martyr doesn't do any more good than the early anti-war protests I attended before we attacked Iraq did. The hard, cold lesson we've learned from this sad affair was that we should never have stopped protesting.
So let's quit playing the martyr, already!
As long as we sit around, wondering:
nothing's going to change. That's what the bush administration and their backers are counting on. They want us to keep our eyes and minds focused on our weakness and impotence. They want us to fail to recognize where our strength lies.
It's not up to me to put an end to what's going on.
It's not up to you, either.
And it's certainly not up to Congress to take action.
They're beholden to the interests of money and the Military/Industrial/Prison Complex. We can count on them to continue to do nothing.
It's up to us.
Commentary: I Lost My Son To A War I Oppose. We Were Both Doing Our Duty.
2007-05-27
The following commentary appears in the Washington Post edition for Sunday, May 27, 2007. It was written by Andrew J. Bacevich, whose son was killed in Iraq on May 13th after a suicide bomb explosion in Salah al-Din province. Mr. Bacevich teaches history and international relations at Boston College. His commentary follows:
Parents who lose children, whether through accident or illness, inevitably wonder what they could have done to prevent their loss. When my son was killed in Iraq earlier this month at age 27, I found myself pondering my responsibility for his death.
Among the hundreds of messages that my wife and I have received, two bore directly on this question. Both held me personally culpable, insisting that my public opposition to the war had provided aid and comfort to the enemy. Each said that my son's death came as a direct result of my antiwar writings.
This may seem a vile accusation to lay against a grieving father. But in fact, it has become a staple of American political discourse, repeated endlessly by those keen to allow President Bush a free hand in waging his war. By encouraging "the terrorists," opponents of the Iraq conflict increase the risk to U.S. troops. Although the First Amendment protects antiwar critics from being tried for treason, it provides no protection for the hardly less serious charge of failing to support the troops - today's civic equivalent of dereliction of duty.
What exactly is a father's duty when his son is sent into harm's way?
Not for a second did I expect my own efforts to make a difference. But I did nurse the hope that my voice might combine with those of others - teachers, writers, activists and ordinary folks - to educate the public about the folly of the course on which the nation has embarked. I hoped that those efforts might produce a political climate conducive to change. I genuinely believed that if the people spoke, our leaders in Washington would listen and respond.
This, I can now see, was an illusion.
The people have spoken, and nothing of substance has changed. The November 2006 midterm elections signified an unambiguous repudiation of the policies that landed us in our present predicament. But half a year later, the war continues, with no end in sight. Indeed, by sending more troops to Iraq (and by extending the tours of those, like my son, who were already there), Bush has signaled his complete disregard for what was once quaintly referred to as "the will of the people".
To be fair, responsibility for the war's continuation now rests no less with the Democrats who control Congress than with the president and his party. After my son's death, my state's senators, Edward M. Kennedy and John F. Kerry, telephoned to express their condolences. Stephen F. Lynch, our congressman, attended my son's wake. Kerry was present for the funeral Mass. My family and I greatly appreciated such gestures. But when I suggested to each of them the necessity of ending the war, I got the brushoff. More accurately, after ever so briefly pretending to listen, each treated me to a convoluted explanation that said in essence: Don't blame me.
To whom do Kennedy, Kerry and Lynch listen? We know the answer: to the same people who have the ear of George W. Bush and Karl Rove - namely, wealthy individuals and institutions.
Money buys access and influence. Money greases the process that will yield us a new president in 2008. When it comes to Iraq, money ensures that the concerns of big business, big oil, bellicose evangelicals and Middle East allies gain a hearing. By comparison, the lives of U.S. soldiers figure as an afterthought.
Memorial Day orators will say that a G.I.'s life is priceless. Don't believe it. I know what value the U.S. government assigns to a soldier's life: I've been handed the check. It's roughly what the Yankees will pay Roger Clemens per inning once he starts pitching next month.
Money maintains the Republican/Democratic duopoly of trivialized politics. It confines the debate over U.S. policy to well-hewn channels. It preserves intact the cliches of 1933-45 about isolationism, appeasement and the nation's call to "global leadership". It inhibits any serious accounting of exactly how much our misadventure in Iraq is costing. It ignores completely the question of who actually pays. It negates democracy, rendering free speech little more than a means of recording dissent.
This is not some great conspiracy. It's the way our system works.
In joining the Army, my son was following in his father's footsteps: Before he was born, I had served in Vietnam. As military officers, we shared an ironic kinship of sorts, each of us demonstrating a peculiar knack for picking the wrong war at the wrong time. Yet he was the better soldier - brave and steadfast and irrepressible.
I know that my son did his best to serve our country. Through my own opposition to a profoundly misguided war, I thought I was doing the same. In fact, while he was giving his all, I was doing nothing. In this way, I failed him.
2007-05-27
The following commentary appears in the Washington Post edition for Sunday, May 27, 2007. It was written by Andrew J. Bacevich, whose son was killed in Iraq on May 13th after a suicide bomb explosion in Salah al-Din province. Mr. Bacevich teaches history and international relations at Boston College. His commentary follows:
Parents who lose children, whether through accident or illness, inevitably wonder what they could have done to prevent their loss. When my son was killed in Iraq earlier this month at age 27, I found myself pondering my responsibility for his death.
Among the hundreds of messages that my wife and I have received, two bore directly on this question. Both held me personally culpable, insisting that my public opposition to the war had provided aid and comfort to the enemy. Each said that my son's death came as a direct result of my antiwar writings.
This may seem a vile accusation to lay against a grieving father. But in fact, it has become a staple of American political discourse, repeated endlessly by those keen to allow President Bush a free hand in waging his war. By encouraging "the terrorists," opponents of the Iraq conflict increase the risk to U.S. troops. Although the First Amendment protects antiwar critics from being tried for treason, it provides no protection for the hardly less serious charge of failing to support the troops - today's civic equivalent of dereliction of duty.
What exactly is a father's duty when his son is sent into harm's way?
Not for a second did I expect my own efforts to make a difference. But I did nurse the hope that my voice might combine with those of others - teachers, writers, activists and ordinary folks - to educate the public about the folly of the course on which the nation has embarked. I hoped that those efforts might produce a political climate conducive to change. I genuinely believed that if the people spoke, our leaders in Washington would listen and respond.
This, I can now see, was an illusion.
The people have spoken, and nothing of substance has changed. The November 2006 midterm elections signified an unambiguous repudiation of the policies that landed us in our present predicament. But half a year later, the war continues, with no end in sight. Indeed, by sending more troops to Iraq (and by extending the tours of those, like my son, who were already there), Bush has signaled his complete disregard for what was once quaintly referred to as "the will of the people".
To be fair, responsibility for the war's continuation now rests no less with the Democrats who control Congress than with the president and his party. After my son's death, my state's senators, Edward M. Kennedy and John F. Kerry, telephoned to express their condolences. Stephen F. Lynch, our congressman, attended my son's wake. Kerry was present for the funeral Mass. My family and I greatly appreciated such gestures. But when I suggested to each of them the necessity of ending the war, I got the brushoff. More accurately, after ever so briefly pretending to listen, each treated me to a convoluted explanation that said in essence: Don't blame me.
To whom do Kennedy, Kerry and Lynch listen? We know the answer: to the same people who have the ear of George W. Bush and Karl Rove - namely, wealthy individuals and institutions.
Money buys access and influence. Money greases the process that will yield us a new president in 2008. When it comes to Iraq, money ensures that the concerns of big business, big oil, bellicose evangelicals and Middle East allies gain a hearing. By comparison, the lives of U.S. soldiers figure as an afterthought.
Memorial Day orators will say that a G.I.'s life is priceless. Don't believe it. I know what value the U.S. government assigns to a soldier's life: I've been handed the check. It's roughly what the Yankees will pay Roger Clemens per inning once he starts pitching next month.
Money maintains the Republican/Democratic duopoly of trivialized politics. It confines the debate over U.S. policy to well-hewn channels. It preserves intact the cliches of 1933-45 about isolationism, appeasement and the nation's call to "global leadership". It inhibits any serious accounting of exactly how much our misadventure in Iraq is costing. It ignores completely the question of who actually pays. It negates democracy, rendering free speech little more than a means of recording dissent.
This is not some great conspiracy. It's the way our system works.
In joining the Army, my son was following in his father's footsteps: Before he was born, I had served in Vietnam. As military officers, we shared an ironic kinship of sorts, each of us demonstrating a peculiar knack for picking the wrong war at the wrong time. Yet he was the better soldier - brave and steadfast and irrepressible.
I know that my son did his best to serve our country. Through my own opposition to a profoundly misguided war, I thought I was doing the same. In fact, while he was giving his all, I was doing nothing. In this way, I failed him.
I don't believe there are too many things in life that would be worse than to have someone knock on my front door and hand me a check in "compensation" for my son's life who died in Iraq on behalf of the policy decisions of george w. bush.
While I can imagine myself attacking the person who would dare hand me such an instrument, I can't imagine myself cashing that check, unless doing so was part of an act of revenge in hiring a mafia hit-man to work some sort of justice on my son's behalf and to aswage my own guilt and grief.
This father rightly chose to judge his own actions as being inadequate to protect his son's life. He did fail his son. Just as I did, and just as you did.
But playing collective martyr doesn't do any more good than the early anti-war protests I attended before we attacked Iraq did. The hard, cold lesson we've learned from this sad affair was that we should never have stopped protesting.
So let's quit playing the martyr, already!
As long as we sit around, wondering:
"What can I do to stop this insanity?"
nothing's going to change. That's what the bush administration and their backers are counting on. They want us to keep our eyes and minds focused on our weakness and impotence. They want us to fail to recognize where our strength lies.
It's not up to me to put an end to what's going on.
It's not up to you, either.
And it's certainly not up to Congress to take action.
They're beholden to the interests of money and the Military/Industrial/Prison Complex. We can count on them to continue to do nothing.
It's up to us.
