Life During Wartime
(The following entry is by guest writer Skob, who joins us today from his blog, "Some Kind of Bliss")
How did it ever come to this?
When did the United States, my home country, become the living embodiment of madness? Just when did the leadership decide it was okay to become bullies, pushing for a war that will affect the world was years to come? When did Empire become fashionable again? When did feeling terrified become the key to feeling safe?
Oh, that crazy hopeless/about-to-scream feeling you have in your gut comes from being dragged into a dark and scary place in a way that trips your survival instincts regarding fire or growling dogs. Your frightened mind wonders just why these crazy American leaders want to go there, to this swirling vortex of hate, war and lies. It all feels inevitable, and for those with decent souls, that feels a lot like hopelessness. Despite the news we've been fed about Saddam = Bin Laden = Evil = A Good, Noble Fight, there's this undertow at our feet telling us to beware. Something horrible will happen if we go further into these dark and uncharted waters.
I live in a country manufacturing any truth necessary to go to war. What's our reason? Oil. No...wait, let's try democracy. Hey, come back tomorrow. We'll have something new for you then. We're told to suck up degraded Constitutional rights and like it. I lived through the threat of nuclear war, Y2K and (since Sept. 11) terrorism. I'll hide away and be scared, just as long as I know I'm being scared for the right reason.
But for oil? Can't we be more clever than this? Wouldn't it be a better, more redeeming example to make a Manhattan project on better alternative fuel technology. Imagine the cool clout one could have, say five years from now walking into an OPEC meeting and saying, "Sorry, guys. We don't need you anymore. It's been fun." Conquest for material resources is so 18th century. It's so embarrassingly old school, harkening back to the days where marauding armies would slaughter whole villages, sell the survivors into slavery and strip mine an ancient culture into a greed-filled grave.
Who are we scared of? Are we frightened that we can't live without enemies or that we can't go on without some damned crusade to help calibrate our Good/Evil decoder ring? Take a hard look at who is whispering in the ear of the Boy King in Washington: veterans of the Cold War, ghosts from obsolete mindsets, an advisor who is an expert on a superpower rival that no longer exists. When all you see are enemies...
Now, my government suggests I should rush out to a home supply store to get duct tape and plastic sheets to turn my home into a plastic bag placed over my head. Our homes to be turned, in a fit of panic, into ready made Tupperware tombs in a finely pressed suburbia. It's akin to the Reagan-era claim that people could survive nuclear war by digging a six-foot-deep hole and climbing in. All the better to bury you with, my dear.
When I heard of the "survival items" I should have on hand in case of some "incident," I thought about how I was suckered over Y2K, a calendar-friendly nightmare that panicked people over the end of the world on Jan. 1, 2000. They (and shamefully myself) stockpiled food, water and toilet paper. In the end, it was ridiculous to think you could survive the end of the world alone. Dangerously little thought was put into actually meeting your neighbors, talking about making sure everyone has water, has power and knows who can perform First Aid if, God forbid, the power is off for a day or two.
Now, it's the nuclear bunker philosophy all over again. Once we get our supplies in order, we'll lock the door behind us and say it's screw you, buddy. I got mine. You can just rot out there with the mutants and ashen sky. It's the extreme sport version of the fable, "The Ant and the Grasshopper." This time, the grasshopper dies of anthrax while the ants view the demise through the hazy ripples of plastic sheeting. Those who can afford it, may survive. The Boy Scout's motto, "Be Prepared," is now suitable as a gravestone inscription, a harbinger and a warning to be left on the Tomb of the Unprepared Citizen.
Will we feel survivor's guilt on the West Coast if an Al-Qaeda dirty nuke goes off in the New York City subway system? After all, we West Coasters now have to contend with North Korea being able to lob a nuclear warhead somewhere on our shared geography. When one coast is attacked, will the other be relieved it wasn't them? A notion of surviving something horrid, something so polluting as a chemical, nuclear or biological attack is beyond madness. It's life clinging to death. If you survive the initial onslaught, there will be pollution in the water table, in the food chain, in the air for weeks to come. But we're told our nation is fighting the good fight. We have God on our side. Be very quiet...we're hunting evildoers. And if you don't like what were doing, you must be an evildoer?
I've seen this before. It's the abused spouse syndrome. Maybe if we are nice to the White House, it'll quit beating us. Or it'll let us know when it's safe to come out. Or it'll stop putting a gun to the head of the economy or the health care system. Maybe even our votes will be counted come 2004.
Forget the 18th century. It's the Middle Ages now. Castles. Warfare at the gates. Crusades. It's siege mode, brought to you by Home Depot and the Fox News Channel.
It turns out the vision of global village was wrong. Man is an island after all. Seal yourselves in your home. Don't bother to come out and protest. The media won't cover you and the police aren't ready for a chemical attack if, you know, something "unfortunate" happens. Stay safe. Stay inside. Stay alone. Stay afraid.
Forget the Middle Ages. It's ancient Egypt now. See your city die in real-time on cable news and get ready to breathe your last in a polystyrene tomb filled with all your belongings, ready to join you in the afterlife.
Did you have fun?
How did it ever come to this?
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