War as a force that gives us meaning

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, represents, in the final analysis, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all."

~Eisenhower

I’ve been thinking for a while now that I needed to get this blog started. After all, I am just about three and a half months out from departure! I'll probably take a later post and explain some of the ins and outs of what I'll be doing while working and living in Bethlehem, Palestine, but what really made me realize that I need to start recording various aspects of my preparation process was the conference I went to this weekend which was on the topic of war and global health. It gave me tons to think about in terms of mentally, emotionally, and ideologically preparing for this little journey ahead.

Perhaps the most personally impactful part of the weekend was the Friday night Keynote Address given by Chris Hedges on the topic of war as a force that gives us meaning. This was especially pertinent as I’ve been reflecting on my personal inclinations towards war and nonviolent perspectives over the last few months. Certainly, I’ve never considered myself pro-war, but I’ve also been working through my specific thoughts on pacifism as well. Do I see war as a preferred primary means of international policy? Obviously not. Have I seen time and time again the negative impacts of war on civilian life? A look into the eyes of the refugee kids I worked with this summer would answer that question in a second. Do I see the ways that the US uses war to further its own economic agenda in a way that entirely debilitates and undermines local societies? For sure. However, am I comfortable sitting back and watching inhumane atrocities occur without viewing armed intervention as means of stopping them? Tough question. The use of armed intervention as a form of protection--I come up inconclusive. Where do you draw the line? At the very least, this conference made me think about war and systemic issues of conflict in a new and more complete way.

Some highlights:

• Once you initially impose force on people, you are dependent on force to keep going. In short, violence promotes violence.
  

• War is the myth that we can eradicate our enemies and that this is a healthy way of addressing conflict.
  

Something to consider: When teaching a 5-year-old child how to respond to conflict with, say, another 5-year-old child sitting at the table next to him, would you tell the child that they have the right to injure or kill the 5-year-old they are in conflict with? And then, perhaps, also wipe out the other kids sitting around the same table as the kid causing the conflict?
Hm, probably not. Then why is this an appropriate response for nations?

• War is neatly packaged and then distributed through media outlets in ways that make most Americans feel comfortable enough to go on living their everyday life "normally." The technological capacity exists to show us the reality, but that might hurt television ratings a little bit...

As Hedges addresses in some of his books, there are many parallels that one can draw between love and war. Both obliterate alienation. War provides comradery which we find nobility in. It provides a sense of purpose and the ability to choose self-sacrifice. In many ways, war looks and feels like love. It is addicting and intoxicating. It provides meaning. But in the end, unlike love, it makes us fanatic and cold. It destroys the fragile web of continuity and interconnectedness. Within war, death becomes the end. In love, death is the hardest and most bitter thing one could possibly have to endure.

Hitting especially close to home in terms of my life come August, Hedges shared from his own experience that once one lives in the midst of conflict, one forever moves from the mythical or theoretical to the reality. One never again views the world as a place devoid of war. If you spend long enough at war, you cannot return to normality ever again. It consumes you. He warned that war becomes an addictive narcotic and that, if one can bear it, one will keep going back. One does not return for pleasure, but rather for finding a sense of victory in the ability to remain human in the midst of so much inhumanity. War makes colors brighter. It makes humanity seem all the more sacred. It brings people together in a way that can not be replicated in any peace time activity. (Consider American solidarity immediately following 9/11.)

Ultimately, this conference made me consider the role of the enemy. Vilifying people I disagree with is not going to get me anywhere. The stories in life that hold the most gravity are not stories of people destroying their enemy in an effort to wipe them out entirely. The stories that leave people wondering at the mystery of life involve irrational and unequivocal love. Which would move you more? The story of someone building up enough support to murder a slew of Nazis soldiers or the story of a Jew offering unequivocal love to a Nazi soldier when faced with an opportunity to cause substantial harm? It seems to me that the question of peace and war is ultimately a question of love and hate. Which force is stronger? Which force does God call us to? When I follow this train of thought to its end, I marvel at my own inability to believe in the power of love from time to time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

What makes life sacred is the ability to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for your kids. Ultimately, what all humans desire is the ability to live. It's incredible to me that human nature has been so corrupted that the universal desire to live in peace has turned into the reality of the world that we live in today.

This is a bit of a downer for a first post. Sorry, friends! I'm genuinely going to try to make this a positive place to visit. But I just spent a whole weekend delving into the depths of the effect war has on the ability to thrive. It's a dark thing.