CULTIVATING LIBERALISM
FOR ALL CLIMATES
SINCE 1759
 
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War5, by Sonal Panse

Arithmetic of Indefinite Justice
A Short History of American Warfare

America’s warfare doctrine has long been centered on massive fire power. Wars begin when provocative acts by others are met with a retributive response. Often such response is the result of political leaders having easy access to a powerful military apparatus. Consequently, misapplied force, either too much or too little, can bring unintended, even catastrophic, consequences.

Moses’ law of retribution expressed the idea of proportionality as “eye for eye and tooth for tooth.” However, the Mosaic injunction was not a demand for retribution but rather a call for moderation by replacing the notion of two legs for an eye or the rape of an offender’s daughter for the loss of a tooth.

The American response to our loss of 2,348 lives at Pearl Harbor cost Japan 2 million killed including, at least, 300,000 civilians, plus an additional 300,000 American war dead. Similarly, our losses on 9/11 came to 2,997, slightly more than our Pearl Harbor deaths. Therefore, based on our World War II experience, we are either 1.9 million dead Muslims short of our historical retribution benchmark, we have already far exceeded our Mosaic allotment and can now declare our national honor upheld and head for the exit.

In fairness to the ethics of our military planners, we have developed many sophisticated weapons that are designed to limit the killing of non-combatants, thus respecting to a degree the concepts of proportionate retribution and chivalrous combat. This is a very recent and welcomed improvement in our war policy. Nevertheless, the very nature of our “smart weapons” tends to encourage the war impulse even as attacks by Muslim fighters with AK-47s and improvised roadside bombs have demonstrated the futility of reliance on technology and fire power alone. In other words, we know how to kill on a massive scale, but we’re not very good at what is being called “asymmetrical” or anti-insurgency warfare.

There are historic reasons for our fire power dependence. We have led the world in fire power development since 1861. The American Civil War produced the machine gun, the mass production of rifled musketry, breach loading repeating rifles, armored ships and the concept of “total war”as pioneered by Sherman’s march across Georgia and Sheridan’s destruction of the Shenandoah granary—the origin of modern day war on civilian populations.

Our infatuation with weaponry continued with the rise of industrialization after 1865 and led to the development of aircraft only 38 years later (the Wright Brothers themselves saw their invention as a weapon). Forty-two years after Kitty Hawk we dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima. The most regrettable military development of all, however, is not the terrible power of our weapons but our willingness to engage in nearly perpetual war, because we can!

The key to defeating radical Islam does not require the annihilation of millions, though we certainly have the destructive power to do so. The humane and strategic response suggests the de-funding of our enemies by ending our dependence on oil beginning at once! It should be self evident by now, that reliance on fire power and technology hasn’t brought peace to the mean streets of either Baghdad or Beirut.

William C. Hall is a freelance writer in DeLand, Fla.


 


THE DAILY JOURNAL VANPOEM
 

As One Put Naked Into a Cigarette Boat

Continue chiding, since it's part of the new aesthetic,
and parcel to our coming home, as if
we'd disappeared into the burning bush
that calls to those who sit vacantly in parlors
awaiting a fate freighted with song and dance.
I stroll while staring and raging
with difficulty at the stubborn sky.

On my honor I step a little distance
from behind the curtain, only to disappear
the moment no birds sing, which occurs frequently.
Leaves dustier than furniture, the sound
of sleeping grating through the cosmos,
my footstool, my only talisman.
It's been real, arguing on your behalf.
Gray cobweb shadow, falling, floundering,
finding a place to not be shy and think
boldly about the oldness of beauty, a place
to rest its weary insubstantial head.

It may be that I stand on the threshold
of the checkout line, unsure of what
to be impulsive about, which momentous emptiness
to spontaneously identify my alienation with,
what kind of languor to slide into

before being reduced to grubbing for credentials,
locked in that tumid late-afternoon skin,
effervescing in its sea of dreams.
And all the things hearkening back to it,
the boat ride to breaker beach
there at the end of one world
where it paid to rage at the stammering waves
that kicked and screamed solely for my benefit,
staged objections to the inexorable fact of me.

Look: I've installed a turnstile in my kitchen,
so your picture-postcard of desolation has no power over me.
In this doggy-dog world land is made motionless
and the broads are standing on the wharves
with some of that sipping whisky on those silver trays,
which we'd be a bear to pass up. You speak
of the old gods who've washed up on shore,
but I don't see them, don't hear their hue and cry,
though their maze awaits us, will amaze us.
Here, let me get this little rock out of my damn shoe.
Then we can talk about paddling off to parts unknown.

 
Van Foreman
 
 

 


 

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