Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Warriors and Idiots

By Christopher Platt

Only warriors and idiots – No! Only SOME warriors and only SOME idiots – can love war. Most warriors are not idiots. Damned few idiots are ever warriors. There are a lot more idiots in this world than there are warriors. And, more often than not, the warriors go to war because their leaders, most-often the idiots, tell them to do so.

Having some limited experience at being both of these, I can tell you that when a warrior loves war, it’s not for the same reasons that an idiot does. A warrior is suffused with “the mission.” With the cause. With the honor of serving one’s country and serving proudly with other warriors, doing a dangerous, dirty job. For some, there is also, make no mistake about it, the exhilaration of combat. Fighting for an idea, for survival, or to save the life of a comrade, is about as life-affirming as you can get, even though the outcome often means someone is going to die. War can give a life meaning, purpose. In the olden days, being a warrior was also a path to fame and, even, immortality: “Spartans! Prepare for glory!”

An idiot loves war because it’s a power trip. Having no experience as a warrior, the idiot is often fascinated with the hardware – the weapons, uniforms, the devices that convey the weapons and the warriors to and from battle – the trappings. And the special effects: bangs and booms, flashes of light and fire. That’s often all an idiot sees of war. The human element, the blood and guts, the screaming, crying, broken bodies lying in the dust, the smells of urine, excrement or burning flesh, is of significantly less interest to them. Why? Because they are idiots! Duhhh!

War is always war. But, when warriors send other warriors into battle, they at least know the human consequences. They know that pain and death will be the outcome. When they forget that, they can become idiots. Then, well, there’s natural selection on the battlefield, too. Today, listening to Congress trying to impale Gen. Petraus for his association with this morally bankrupt administration, I heard one sympathetic Senator relate a story about the architect of the postwar Marshall Plan. There’s a version in an article posted on the National Review Online, by Jim Lacey: “… During World War II, General George Marshall, the first chairman [of the Joint Chiefs of Staff]… sent the casualty list to the White House to remind the president that real people died as a result of every order given. General Marshall continued this despite a White House request that the practice be discontinued.”

Lacey’s article talks about Richard B. Myers, the current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, “General Myers starts each workday with a full briefing on the circumstances of every American casualty in the previous 24 hours. I can think of no more emotionally searing way to begin what are often long, arduous days. This is not something he has to do and I imagine he continues it only because it is a daily reminder that any decision he makes can have a dire consequence for the men and women who make it happen.” That’s what a real warrior does. For the rest of Lacey’s thoughtful article, “The Commanders,” go to http://www.nationalreview.com/comment/lacey200505270805.asp.

Conversely, when idiots send warriors into battle, it’s more about making their weenies look more like bigger, stronger woodies. Bigger to their enemies, for sure. But also to their allies and girlfriends – and themselves. C’mon, don’t pretend you’ve never heard this before. Long before Freud, it was understood that the long, tubular shapes of modern weaponry stand in for the rampant male organ: cannons… rifles… bullets… rockets… airplanes. Ooooh! It’s enough to make any idiot swoon. To pretend they still cling to a shred of humanity, idiots may make brave, seemingly heartfelt, statements of concern for the casualties, but frankly, Scarlet …

It’s also true that, while idiots will happily send warriors off to fight their battles for them, no warrior wants to send idiots off to war. Warriors know that sending idiots into harm’s way isn’t going to make their manhood appear any bigger, especially to other warriors, who are only interested in whether or not you won the battle you were tasked with. So they don’t do so if they can avoid it -- unless or until an idiot leader orders them to do otherwise. Truth is, savvy warriors will always shrink from making such a decision. That’s why politicians were invented. That’s why we have… The Decider.

Politics, too, is all about making your wanker look bigger. Yeah, I know, that’s hot news, too. We have a situation in this country, where the idiots have sent a new generation of warriors off to improve the perception of their genitals. Think I’m offbase? Start with the fact that one’s a Dick, and another’s a Bush. Then proceed to the fact that virtually none of these bozos in leadership positions has ever been a warrior. “Bring it on!” “Mission Accomplished!” Jeez, people, have you ever seen so many phalluses being waved more aggressively? Say what you will about Bill Clinton… at least when HE unzipped, nobody died.

So, how do we get out of this mess we’re in? Take Iraq. Please! I have a quandary that I’ll bet also troubles some other Blue Shirts out there: On the one hand, I’d love to bring all of our warriors home, alive and in one piece, tomorrow. On the other hand, our idiots have so screwed up that miserable country that – as bad as things are for the Iraqis now, odds are that it would get much worse if Johnny came marching home too soon. I’m not, at least about this matter, an idiot. I’m certain there’s no way for us to win, even on the continuously shrinking punchlist of benchmarks our idiot leaders are using to define success. There will be no victory. But tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of Iraqis have also died, and millions more have been displaced, because our idiots – our leaders – couldn’t keep it in their pants. I feel a terrible, helpless anger and pain whenever another of our young warriors is killed in Iraq. But I also feel anger and pain when another bunch of Iraqi citizens is blown up on a bus or in a market – or at a funeral, because there’s no way to protect them. I am ashamed for what my country has done. I am ashamed for what my country has become. Isn’t there a great big “Undo” button somewhere?

This is probably going to make those Red Shirts smile because it almost sounds supportive of their position. It’s not. But do I feel that, as a nation, having so thoroughly destroyed Iraq, we owe the Iraqi people something. We can’t bring back the lives that have been sacrificed, but perhaps there is something we can do to “make it right.” I abhor the bloodshed, and bemoan the wasted lives, but there’s that “cut-and-run” thing, which would likely bring down even more shame upon us. Yes, somehow, we should find a way to make amends for the crimes and sins our idiots have perpetrated there. I dread the prospect of walking away and leaving such a hopeless mess behind, but I don’t want to sacrifice any more of our warriors. However, maybe, there’s a solution. There IS a sufficiently bloodthirsty cohort we could employ in their stead.

Warriors don’t send idiots into battle. But OTHER idiots might. We have a whole contingent of newly elected idiots waiting in the wings of the halls of power. So far, they’ve been singularly unsuccessful at getting an anguished citizenry to notice their impressive genitalia -- a few even lack the requisite equipment altogether. So, let’s have them create a Legion of our best, most-aggressive idiots – oh, name it “The First Neocon Division” – and send this rough beast slouching off towards Baghdad. I say we prevail upon our new idiots to pressgang the creaky, cranky warmongers themselves, stalwarts such as Dick Cheney, George W. Bush (but not his father, who was a warrior) Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz, William Kristol, Richard Perle, R. James Woolsey, Ken Adelman, Norman Podhoretz, Douglas Feith, Karl Rove, David Addington, David Frum, Charles Krauthammer. These folks are so enamored of war, let’s be supportive and give them their day in the hot, Iraqi sun. Outfit them all in sexy, black leather uniforms from Fredericks of Hollywood’s Men’s Division, with big sturdy codpieces behind the zippers of their trousers. Put Podhoretz, one of the original, founding Neocons, at the head of the column, riding Point in the lead black Hummer. That way, if – by chance they should prevail, their victory would be known ever after as The Norman Conquest.

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