- You may speak a thousand words to a man and he will not
hear. He will not hear beyond the complacency of his satiated controlled,
programmed life; where all suffering, pain, or human reasoned discourse
is denied. Such was the man I listened to on C-Span this morning. Another
public relations packaged event (such is all that is presented today as
news), that had him sitting there neatly packaged, articulate and cold-so
sufferingly cold! I had the impression, as he went on in his patronizing,
perfectly scripted presentation, that he was the counter balance to this
weekend's planned demonstration in Washington D.C. against the war. His
name- Victor Hanson. Introduced as a Professor at the U.S. Naval Academy
on Military History. I wondered about our war boy and his own experience
on the front lines of mayhem and butchery? Well, he hasn't any such credentials.
He writes numerous books, and teaches from a distance, from a more than
comfortable lifestyle. Professor Hanson, born in 1953 and going on to receive
many degrees and various awards, is not your battle scarred warrior reporting
the first hand events of cluster bombs, or vaporized villages. No blood
smeared pages marred his years of study, no tears of raped-mutilated womanhood!
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- He minced no words in his vindictiveness of today's "dissenters",
whom he describes as those mainly from the various arts, universities,
and elite media. He went on to ponderously explain how these misled miscreants
were immune from old insecurities, living in a world of comfort creatures
which will never afford them the opportunities of coming face to face with
a bin-Laden or his ilk! He went on to describe how these persons objecting
to America's role in world affairs were unhappy in their good lives--feeling
guilty over jetting the world over, walking on their hardwood floors or
lounging on their redwood decks, thus the discontent and need to protest!
Simple as that! His advice to these 'guilt ridden ones' spoilers of war,
was that if they were so worried about disparities between the rich and
poor etc., that they should integrate their schools, intermarry and move
into ghettos with the poor! Mr.Hanson, lives on a huge tree farm, and not
feeling guilty is obviously removed from his own insightful advice!
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- He thought that probably many in academics felt that
their words were not appreciated and they were not being appreciated or
recognized for their intellectual achievements, thus the need to protest.
"NO" he went on, "I find debate valuable, but once debate
is over and a decision agreed on, all should stand behind it." He
did not describe where or how such a debate of differences would ensue,
nor whom would be the ones officiating at the final decision agreed upon;
to war or not to war, that is the question? He became more animated over
those who dared to visit Iraq; Congressmen or stars, calling such acts
as "bordering on disloyalty, naive and near treasonous." He referred
to Marxists, and left wingers--remarking several times, that those carrying
signs in Washington D.C. in Oct said, "Bomb Texas I Love Iraq".
He mentioned several that he had a problem with; including Professor Noam
Chomsky of MIT, whose institution, he said, realizes much money from Defense
Contractors. He smugly pontificated on Noam living a bourgeois lifestyle
in a Boston suburb. Aha! so that proves that Noam is a phoney not living
what he espouses! He acted bewildered as to what all the fuss was about,
what with America now trying to rid the world of Fascism and that these
critics (those who oppose war) could simply not understand that people
such as Saddam could not be talked to! Iraq is a Fascist regime and must
be gotten rid of! He mused aloud that ONLY 200 lives had been lost in the
first Gulf escapade! Oops, military historian that he presents himself
as, alas, he missed the hundreds of thousands of Iraqi's that have died
and are continuing to because of sanctions and depleted uranium radiating
their land! I would show (not that it would impress I suppose) the horrors
of war in the Visual sense to all those who think it so clean-sterile and
video arcade fun and games! I would have them go to: http://digitaljournalist.org/issue0212/pt_intro.html
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- In fact, I would advise all Peace activists to print
out some of these pictures of Gulf War I, and show the carnage that depleted
uranium shells are capable of---cutting through heavy armour like butter
and incinerating all! Depleted uranium, highly radioactive, has only come
into our war arsenal since the Gulf, and the war boys are pretty darned
excited about it! These photos are ones taken on the Highway of Death,
of rag tag Iraqi soldiers (no Royal Guards these), running for home after
the War was declared ended! General McCaffrey (later drug Czar) decided
otherwise! Iraqi village peasants don't have a choice in being sent to
war-you go or die!
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- I remember going on a 15mile march for Peace during the
first Gulf public relations schemed war! (Yes, Howard and Knowles, PR firm
hired by Kuwait to promote with lies-lies and more lies).
- Carrying a sign of the number of dead thus far; this
red jowl elitist, in his silver BMW pulled up alongside me, rolled down
his window and spit on me, screaming, "You no good unemployed, communist,
faggot!" I answered back, "Hey, I do too have a job!" This
is the mentality and venom that those who want Peace are dealing with!
So, to be for Peace you have to be unemployed, communist and a faggot!!
Can you believe the utter stupid depravity of some? I wouldn't hesitate
to guess that those carrying messages of hate or violence in any legitimate
Peace gatherings, are placed there purposely. Frankly, if I were organizing
such an event, any and all signs would have to speak a message of Peace
or informational and any others not allowed. We can't return hatred for
hatred nor venom for venom. We are to be songs of life....not of death.
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- Professor Hanson advises that America as a super power
bears the responsibility of not abusing that power. Sadly, with all his
credentials and academia platitudes, he is far removed from the realities
of power run amok, blood, gore, and the stench of incinerated flesh! War
has not changed over the generations, except, now we've reached the madness
of earth's destruction. Professor War From a Distance; is 'safe' in his
teaching of military history...a history I might add written by the victors!
No, once again we shall see the peasants of the Third World pitted against
the youth of America's villages, farms, ghettos, and small towns. Professor
Hanson and his ilk will simply study war! I wonder in his history lessons
whether he gives the words of those who've managed to return-the pictures
of carnage? The words of Woodbine Will of World War I, (in part), speaks
to men/women of all wars!
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- WELL?
-
- But the other night I dreamed a dream,
- And just twixt me and you,
- I never dreamed like that afore,
- I half thinks it were true.
-
- I dreamed as I were dead, ye see,
- At least as I had died,
- For I were very much alive,
- Out there on the other side.
-
- I couldn't see no judgement court,
- Nor yet that great white throne,
- I couldn't see no record books,
- I seemed to stand alone.
-
- I seemed to stand alone, beside
- A solemn kind of sea.
- Its waves they got in my inside,
- And touched my memory.
-
- And day to day, and year by year,
- My life came back to me.
- I see'd just what I were, and what
- I'd had the chance to be.
-
- And all the good I might 'a' done,
- An hadn't stopped to do.
- I see'd I'd made an 'ash of it,
- And Gawd! but it were true.
-
- A throng of faces came and went,
- Afore me on that shore,
- My wife, and Mother, kiddies, pals,
- And the face of a London whore.
-
- And some was sweet and some was sad,
- And some put me to shame,
- For the dirty things I'd done to them,
- When I hadn't played the game.
-
- Then in the silence someone stirred,
- Like when a sick man groans,
- And a kind of shivering chill ran through
- The marrow of my bones.
-
- And there before someone stood,
- Just looking down at me,
- And still behind Him moaned and moaned
- That everlasting sea.
-
- I couldn't speak, I felt as though
- He had me by the throat,
- 'Twere like a drowning fella feels,
- Last moment he's afloat.
-
- And He said not, He just stood still,
- For I dunno how long.
- It seemed to me like years and years,
- But time out there's all wrong.
-
- What was He like? You're asking now.
- Can't word it anyway.
- He just were Him, that's all I knows.
- There's things as words can't say.
-
- It seemed to me as through His face,
- Were millions rolled in one.
- It never changed yet always changed,
- Like the sea beneath the sun.
-
- 'Twere all men's faces yet no man's face,
- And a face no man can see,
- And it seemed to say in silent speech,
- You did them all to me.
-
- The dirty things you did to them,
- 'The filth you thought was fine,
- You did them all to me, it said,
- For all their souls were mine.
-
- All eyes was His eyes,-all eyes,
- My wife's and a million more.
- And once I thought as those two eyes
- Were the eyes of the London whore.
-
- And they were sad--My Gawd 'ow sad,
- With tears that seemed to shine,
- And quivering bright with the speech of light,
- They said, "Her soul was mine."
-
- And then at last He said one word,
- He just said one word, "Well?"
- And I said in a funny voice,
- Please can I go to Hell?
-
- And He stood there and looked at me,
- And He kind of seemed to grow,
- Till He shone like the sun above my head,
- And then He answered, "No
-
- You can't, that Hell is for the blind,
- And not for those that SEE.
- You know that you have earned it, lad,
- So you must follow me.
-
- Follow me on by the paths of pain,
- Seeking what you have seen,
- Until at last you can build the "Is",
- With the bricks of the "Might have been."
-
- That's what He said, as I'm alive,
- And that there dream were true.
- But what He meant,--I don't quite know,
- Though I knows what I has to do.
-
- I's got to follow what I's seen,
- Till this old carcass dies.
- For I daren't face the land of grace,
- The sorrow of those eyes.
-
- There ain't no throne, and there ain't no books,
- It's Him you've got to see,
- It's Him, just Him, that is the Judge
- Of blokes like you and me.
-
- And boys I'd sooner frizzle up,
- In the flames of a burning Hell,
- Than stand and look into His face,
- And hear His voice say---"WELL?"
- jm
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