The Iraq War officially ended today. No one seemed to care.
America as a whole only has time for excellence, we do not tolerate failure. It seems in this case this means ignoring that which is too painful to admit.
Keep calm, and carry on.
I was a supporter of the war before there was one. Wrapped up in patriotic zeal after 9/11, i bought into the narrative which the neo-con inteligencia was pushing. Every generation has a defining moment, a time to remake the world, this was ours. I argued with friends we seemed less than enthusiastic to "play with our toys in the sand" as George Carlin would say. I insisted that this was the right course, the bold choice, the necessity given the attacks of 9/11. I lived vicariously through the actions of the state, America flexing its muscle was an extension of my own self determination for greatness. The future was a boundless plan of possibilities which the truly bold could shape and make there own. "War is the force which gives us meaning" as Chris Hedges says.
As a high school junior I watched on, empowered by Shock and Awe on Baghdad, then went to the prom and danced to "you dropped a bomb on me." The war ended a few weeks later, then the fighting continued. I continued to argue for it, all critics were to be shown as fools some day. Victory for the state would be victory for myself.
It was a gradual process, certain arguments (WMDs first, then peaceful democracy) soon vanished from my discussions. The clearly biased news kept coming in, and coming, and coming. That day of vindication would come! 2005, 06...nothing but violence.
I look back on my youth with a mixture of somber regret and subdued thankfulness. Every person should see themselves ten years ago and not recognize themselves fully. Our priories have changed, we value different things, we've loved, and lost, and (the good god willing) loved once more. Our past shows us where we come from, it remains a part of us for better and worse. Everyone has, in a moment of silence at night or during a long winters drive, thought of the man or women named you who once inhabited the earth. You remember the good old days, and the bad, the happy triumph, and the missed opportunity. Most of all, you probably recall your naïveté. Maybe not you're arrogance in thinking you knew everything, but your ignorance of not knowing. Thus the past, to the examined life, are points of grey, building to the future.
This post could end here. Me postulating that prose as a way to excuse any responsibility I had as a 17 year old rooting for war, justifying to myself that mistakes were made and I'm a better person for admitting that. Part of me wishes for that, but the other knows that is the fools way out. It was not excuse for me to be so young, when far less fortunate men of my generation lost their innocence, faith, and lives in the sands of Iraq why I argued with college classmates about why they were there.
I failed them, we failed them. Far too many people exploited the sacrifice of others for their own gain, both "right" and "left." Far too many people stayed on the sidelines, or went along as willing enablers to remain part of the "mainstream." Yet the only sacrifice offered (no taxes please) was placing yellow ribbon magnets on their cars. A fitting tribute to our sense of commitment. quietly, without any discussion, those ribbons came off the cars without a trace.
This day has come and gone, somberly, but lacking the true sense of reflection we need. There were no positives, the only heroes born out of tragedy. A lesson that will go unexamined, uncorrected, because we are an exceptional country which cannot fail.
I cannot divorce myself from my past, I can only learn to live with it.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012 at 1:20PM 