Thursday
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10/13/03
Mmmm. Hot, Steamy Flag-Driven Sincerity.
(Just in the way of a disclaimer… I find that most parenting blogs are heartfelt, if nothing else. As often as not though, they have a tone to them that’s Capra-esque to the point of maudlin sincerity… Yuck. So, despite the suspiciously earnest tone of the following exchange between me and my youngest in this entry, and the opportunity for reflection that that afforded me, I swear its all true, if just a little icky… -E.)
While negotiating the hallway with an armload of laundry last night, I found my younger boy wandering around with a small plastic American flag in his hand. "Dad," he asked, "are we winning?"
I stopped dead. I was pretty sure where this was leading. "Winning?" I asked with my most Winning smile.
"Yeah," he asked, "are we winning the war?" Good Heavens. Our troops in the mid-east deal daily with real landmines and the consequences of any real missteps, and yet there I stood, rooted to the spot in my own house while considering the consequences of any intellectual missteps I might make. A thousand thoughts flew through my mind, the first of which was that I would have preferred to be ambushed by any other question, even the where-do-babies-come-from one.
"Well, um, yeah, sort of… but it’s kind of complicated…" I was floundering. "Yes", I said, "we’re winning, well, for the moment, anyway."
I stopped for a moment. What was I thinking? The boy’s only six, so it’s way too early to start in on him about the real nature of the conflict between chaos and order and the fact that it’s as inevitable as it is intractable.
All sorts of analogies occurred to me to explain the situation in Iraq and Afghanistan (remember Afghanistan?), but nothing seemed right. I thought about how BushCheney stood in front of the U.S. and declared that victory is inevitable; it’s only a matter of keeping our resolve and throwing enough resources at "them". Somehow, apparently, terrorists will just magically stop appearing if we kill enough of them. Then I wondered what the British would have to say about that if we asked them how things went for them around the world. And I wondered what the Israelis would have to say about that if we asked them how things are going at home with the Palestinians. Then I wondered what the Romans would say to that if we could ask them how things went with the Visigoths and Vandals. Just a simple matter of resolve, says BushCheney.
Then I thought about the fact that over the last five thousand years or so, expansive empires have, without exception, failed. Building and maintaining an empire that includes peoples who would really rather not be included, thank you very much, have universally proved to be both politically and financially untenable. In short, there are at least five thousand years worth of lessons about what happens to those who would impose their will on others on a global scale, no matter how well meaning or not.
And yet, the political right of this nation would have us believe that we are somehow different. That we can run a program of either regime change or nation building, whichever euphemism you prefer, with impunity. That we can spiral into an endless cycle of sending our troops and tax dollars abroad, as if willing troops and tax dollars were in endless supply. It truly boggles the mind.
So, about two seconds later, Sensible Dad fought back and regained control of my brain. "Yep," I said, "We’re winning and everything’s fine."
I felt a little guilty about lying to him, but not too much. He had more questions though. He looked at me very earnestly. "What happens when we win?"
Another toughie. "Well… um, actually, not much. We get to go on with things like they already are." That didn’t seem to really satisfy him though, I assume because in his world, winning or losing a game has real consequenses.
"Well what happens if they win?"
"Oh, nothing at all, don’t worry about it, they won’t" I lied.
Well, then again, maybe it wasn’t a lie. May be we’ll find ourselves again. Perhaps our better selves will decide that generations of conflict can, and probably should be avoided. The British lucked out really. Their empire mellowed and matured into the old guy that recognized when enough was enough and that it was time to pack up his ego along with his pith helmet and go home.
Britain survived. And each night that goes by, I pray, for my sons’ sake as well as mine, that we get over ourselves and mature just as gracefully.
So there, I warned you it might be just a little yucky in a sincere sort of way.
|
10/13/03
Mmmm. Hot, Steamy Flag-Driven Sincerity.
(Just in the way of a disclaimer… I find that most parenting blogs are heartfelt, if nothing else. As often as not though, they have a tone to them that’s Capra-esque to the point of maudlin sincerity… Yuck. So, despite the suspiciously earnest tone of the following exchange between me and my youngest in this entry, and the opportunity for reflection that that afforded me, I swear its all true, if just a little icky… -E.)
While negotiating the hallway with an armload of laundry last night, I found my younger boy wandering around with a small plastic American flag in his hand. "Dad," he asked, "are we winning?"
I stopped dead. I was pretty sure where this was leading. "Winning?" I asked with my most Winning smile.
"Yeah," he asked, "are we winning the war?" Good Heavens. Our troops in the mid-east deal daily with real landmines and the consequences of any real missteps, and yet there I stood, rooted to the spot in my own house while considering the consequences of any intellectual missteps I might make. A thousand thoughts flew through my mind, the first of which was that I would have preferred to be ambushed by any other question, even the where-do-babies-come-from one.
"Well, um, yeah, sort of… but it’s kind of complicated…" I was floundering. "Yes", I said, "we’re winning, well, for the moment, anyway."
I stopped for a moment. What was I thinking? The boy’s only six, so it’s way too early to start in on him about the real nature of the conflict between chaos and order and the fact that it’s as inevitable as it is intractable.
All sorts of analogies occurred to me to explain the situation in Iraq and Afghanistan (remember Afghanistan?), but nothing seemed right. I thought about how BushCheney stood in front of the U.S. and declared that victory is inevitable; it’s only a matter of keeping our resolve and throwing enough resources at "them". Somehow, apparently, terrorists will just magically stop appearing if we kill enough of them. Then I wondered what the British would have to say about that if we asked them how things went for them around the world. And I wondered what the Israelis would have to say about that if we asked them how things are going at home with the Palestinians. Then I wondered what the Romans would say to that if we could ask them how things went with the Visigoths and Vandals. Just a simple matter of resolve, says BushCheney.
Then I thought about the fact that over the last five thousand years or so, expansive empires have, without exception, failed. Building and maintaining an empire that includes peoples who would really rather not be included, thank you very much, have universally proved to be both politically and financially untenable. In short, there are at least five thousand years worth of lessons about what happens to those who would impose their will on others on a global scale, no matter how well meaning or not.
And yet, the political right of this nation would have us believe that we are somehow different. That we can run a program of either regime change or nation building, whichever euphemism you prefer, with impunity. That we can spiral into an endless cycle of sending our troops and tax dollars abroad, as if willing troops and tax dollars were in endless supply. It truly boggles the mind.
So, about two seconds later, Sensible Dad fought back and regained control of my brain. "Yep," I said, "We’re winning and everything’s fine."
I felt a little guilty about lying to him, but not too much. He had more questions though. He looked at me very earnestly. "What happens when we win?"
Another toughie. "Well… um, actually, not much. We get to go on with things like they already are." That didn’t seem to really satisfy him though, I assume because in his world, winning or losing a game has real consequenses.
"Well what happens if they win?"
"Oh, nothing at all, don’t worry about it, they won’t" I lied.
Well, then again, maybe it wasn’t a lie. May be we’ll find ourselves again. Perhaps our better selves will decide that generations of conflict can, and probably should be avoided. The British lucked out really. Their empire mellowed and matured into the old guy that recognized when enough was enough and that it was time to pack up his ego along with his pith helmet and go home.
Britain survived. And each night that goes by, I pray, for my sons’ sake as well as mine, that we get over ourselves and mature just as gracefully.
So there, I warned you it might be just a little yucky in a sincere sort of way.
