“War is what happens
when language fails,” observes Margaret Atwood. In this sense, the
crude methods of uncommunicative adversaries are not unlike
pre-verbal toddlers resolving territorial and property disputes with
violence. But on closer inspection, these words reveal a broader
truth about cultural literacy and peace: what if war is the goal of
an Elite, and manipulating the masses to sanction unjustified
conquest is a function of carefully tailored words? In this case, it
isn’t the language that fails, but the listeners.
When our students aren’t
listening, is it because we never earned their full attention?
Our job as educators is
to inspire critical thought, impart the tools for creative
problem-solving and innovative solutions. It’s important for
students to acquire experiential confidence with the logic of
war-language, lest they be awed by the powerful, masquerading as
visionary.
“Just War”
theorists—ranging from ancients (Cicero, St. Thomas Aquinas) to the
industrial (John Stuart Mill) to the modern (Ron Paul) -- have long
opined upon the concept of Bellum iustum: under what limited
circumstances war is the moral choice. Widespread literacy of these
principles might inhibit a sustained campaign of manufacturing public
endorsement for the Pentagon’s violence. But let’s be honest –
applying such sensible abstractions in reasoned dialogue against a
multi-media, billion-dollar-barrage of war fever is difficult, if not
altogether impossible.
It’s easy to understand
why a democratic citizenry largely untouched by war surrenders
critical thought to emotional appeals of “liberation,” “freedom”
and “heroism” as justification for violent action. From what
experiential reference – other than the visceral entertainment of
war movies – might American civilians understand the true misery of
war? Without directly experiencing combat, administering trauma care
to civilian refugees, collecting testimonies of war orphans, inhaling
the stench of a torched landscape, burying the dead – war might
seem like the most expedient way for a powerful and *noble* nation to
have its goals accomplished.
“What if
schools throughout the United States committed to foreign exchange programs for students to visit
countries healing from war – experientially, building muscle memory
and critical thought of its avoidable horrors -- in a posture of
safety, compassionate adventure and intelligent foreign policy
study?” Imagine it.
Today’s high school
students were no more than pre-school children when U.S forces
invaded Iraq. Who but historians could have predicted the ensuing
catastrophes? “Fallujah and Abu Ghraib; thousands of American lives
lost and damaged; at least 125,000 Iraqis killed, and some 3 million
others exiled or displaced; more than a trillion dollars squandered.”
(Harper’s Magazine / March 2013) The ten-year anniversary of the
war came and went this spring with little fanfare. Hardly a victory
can be claimed for a war so contrived: with no evidence connecting
events to Al Qaeda, the Bush administration masterfully captured our
collective grief from 9/11, marched us to the gas pumps to
“yellow-ribbon-up” our SUVs, and wave the flag of righteous
indignation over a mission to “liberate” a historically volatile
region from non-existent Weapons of Mass Destruction.
In what would become one
of countless Orwellian constructs of linguistic reasoning,
then-Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld accounted for the lack of
WMDs in Iraq with this gem: “Absence of evidence is not evidence of
absence!”
(Most of our students can
refute that one with both hands tied behind their cell phones.)
Boston University
Professor and Vietnam War veteran Andrew J. Bacevich, pens a
thoughtful letter to one of the Iraq War’s chief architects. In A Letter to Paul Wolfowitz, Bacevich dissects the Bush Doctrine of “pre-emptive” war, while
posing some brilliant questions about the lie the American public
allowed itself to believe of the Iraq War:
“One of the questions emerging from the Iraq debacle must be this
one: Why did liberation at gunpoint yield results that differed so
radically from what the war’s advocates had expected? Or, to
sharpen the point, How did preventative war undertaken by
ostensibly the strongest military in history produce a cataclysm?”
One of the benefits– if
I may be so bold – of the Vietnam War, is that its lessons can
still be discovered, learned and applied to the modern day. Dynamic
teachers do this: Educational travel programs to Cambodia,
Laos and Vietnam – like those provided by the educators at
Friendship Tours World Travel - connect students to real people still living with the legacy of
war.
Our student travelers
from Harvard-Westlake school spent
their spring break interviewing amputees along the Ho Chi Minh trail.
Students returned to the U.S. energized and engaged: they formed a
SayNoUXO club and are publicizing the plight of Unexploded Ordnance
victims in Laos through video and awareness campaigns. Exceptional
student thinkers from Francis Parker School are exploring the
history and consequences of war with annual spring break trips
through Vietnam. Watkinson School embraces experiential study of
surviving the Khmer Rouge genocide with music via educational field
trips through Cambodia.
On every educational journey, our students engage with our NGO
partners serving people transcending war. Students return from our
program enlightened, inspired and committed to exploring
mutually-beneficial international alternatives to war. These
travelers are forever impacted; they now consider unanticipated
consequences to violence. They now believe, as one student remarked,
“whatever the question, war is not the answer.”
Many of our war
survivor-friends did not exist when these conflicts began. As
then-Secretary of Defense Robert S. MacNamara absurdly championed
military escalation in 1965—and Vice President Dick Cheney
speciously repeated 35 years later -- U.S. forces of aggression would
be greeted “as liberators,” victims of this cavalier violence in
the destination countries were yet to be born. Today, survivors’
poignant stories of hardship, indiscriminate suffering and loss are
tempered by the equally profound lessons of hope: humanity can avoid,
transcend, and heal from war. Students emerge from these educational field trips profoundly motivated to engage in our democracy, to
perceive --and then reject--their leaders’ pseudo-intellectual
appeals to war and to innovate mutually profitable relationships with
global partners working for stability.
Ultimately, Bacevich
implores Wolfowitz to do with Iraq as the putative “best and the
brightest” civilian mind behind the Vietnam War -- Robert S.
MacNamara – did with SE Asia: admit that he’d been “wrong,
terribly wrong” about the U.S role in Indochina.
Perhaps our nation will
not hold its breath for ex post facto apologies if our
citizenry can detect and resist war fever as it is occurring. I’m
confident that a broad movement of global educators committed to
educational travel abroad for students can have an impact
towards deterring the next war that the profiteers have already inked
on the calendar.
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