A cherished old friend recently sent me the following
e-mail:
“US Navy Carrier ...
no wonder the Iranians want this vessel out of the Persian Gulf. This is a
great example of technology, teamwork and strength in action. This is
impressive... Go for the ride! Just click HERE
If you don’t want to
watch the video right now, it’s enough to know that it’s a ten-minute Discovery
Channel video showing an American aircraft carrier in action. It’s a very impressive display of
hardware and skill. And as the
captain says during the video, that one aircraft carrier has a larger and more
powerful air force than 70% of the countries in the world.
It brought back memories. For three years I lived within a few hundred yards of what
was then Lakehurst Naval Air Station, in New Jersey—also, incidentally, the
site of the famed von Hindenberg disaster, in 1937 (?). One of the benefits of having the NAS
nearby was that we merited a yearly visit from the famed Navy stunt-flying
team, the Blue Angels. They put on
a performance every year that was breathtaking, and I always looked forward to
it.
It was not just grandstanding. Having such powerful machines moving at such speeds, so
close together and so close to the ground, posed real risks, and once in a
while one of the pilots died—in what was clearly a noncombat situation. So the Navy had obviously calculated
that the risks involved were justified by the positive visibility they gave to
the U. S. Navy before the civilian population—and, I assume, the base personnel
as well.
But as I watched with awe and admiration the beauty of these
huge and powerful warplanes, I couldn’t help being aware that this display was not
why they were designed, built, and purchased. These were warplanes—designed both to kill and destroy,
and also to make clear to the world that they were ready and able to kill and
destroy. And I wondered, over and
over, at the irony that some of the most beautiful machines built in the
history of the world were built for purpose of killing and destruction. Missiles, drones, helicopters . . .
there is a great deal of military hardware that carries the same
paradox—esthetically beautiful, but designed primarily to be deadly to human
life and property.
What I thought many times, as I watched the Blue Angels
perform, was that I would have liked to have seen an additional show, after the
first one. I wished just one
of the Blue Angels, fully armed, could designate a nearby hillside as its
target, and allow us to see what a single plane and a single pilot could do to
a small town or village. I imagine
that it would have been terrifying—not the sort of impression the Navy
might want to leave with the civilian population, though perhaps far more
accurate as a representation of what those planes were.
Americans are incredibly good at building and operating
gadgets, especially big military gadgets—among the best in the world. It’s a skill in which we can
justifiably take pride, and that ability has had a significant impact on the
history of the world.
The aircraft carrier, astonishing as it is, is just one
facet of American military power, and we civilians never even quite know
all the dimensions of the power that has been built and is being operated in
our name.
But it’s also quite clear that we tend to be far better at
designing and building the gadgets than we are at dealing with the ethical
dilemmas posed by having them. The
possession of power always, always, always, changes things. And the decisions regarding whether
to do the things we are capable of doing is, for all of us, full of
pitfalls and temptations.
If we are unhappy with a small country (or even a larger
one) somewhere, and we know that one of the solutions is simply to bomb
it into submission, that inevitably raises the question of whether that is the wisest
solution to the problem. And the
decision never rests (and should not) with the American citizenry. It rests with our leaders, military and
civilian, who bring their particular information, wisdom, and ethics to the
table.
My point is a simple one: having this much power at our disposal means, almost
inevitably, that at some points it will be used in ways that are less
than wise. There will be times
when wiser voices would point to the actual (and lasting) costs of using
military power as the solution to the problem, and to the wisdom of working
harder to find other solutions before resorting to that one. Those voices are not always listened
to.
So when we’re confronted with a video hymn of praise for
American military technology, or a bumper sticker appealing to me to “Support
our troops”—it’s appropriate to remain aware of the dangers posed to us by our
very possession of this much power. And it’s appropriate always to “support our troops” by doing
all we can to ensure that they are never “sent into harm’s way” unless it’s as
clear as possible that no less destructive an option can be acceptable.
The availability of a military solution to international
attention must never cause us to forget the price—to us—of using that
power. We must always be cautious,
careful, and when we unleash the dogs of war, do so with foreboding and regret,
not just punitive rage. To do less
means that we have forgotten what war really is.
4 comments:
It came up in a discussion recently that we don't see the coffins coming home like we did during the Vietnam war. People said if we saw more of that, there would be greater outrage over the war. But we have a record number of veterans committing suicide and suffering psychological trauma.
It makes one wonder, who is counting the cost?
As always, you are wise, insightful, and thought-provoking! I couldn't help from wondering, though, if the opposite isn't also true sometimes. Might there be times when we ought to use our power to stop tragedies in places such as Syria, for example, but we don't. But we justify it places such as Kuwait and Libya. I absolutely agree with you, anytime the dogs of war are unleashed it must be done with wisdom and prudence. Sometimes, though, it seems it is done for profit (oil) or political gain, instead of for freedom, liberty, or humanitarian purposes.
Ah, friend Dave, there's the rub--the wisdom of those whom we elect to make the decisions. Staying out of Syria could be the cowardice of narrow self-interest--or it could be intelligent geopolitical calculation about the dangers and costs of straightening out other people. I sure don't know! Juggling wisdom and self-interest . . . never an easy task . . .
It becomes a vicious circle. Having this power available causes frequent overuse, and the use causes more to be built, and we end up spending an awful lot of money blowing people and things up and intimidating countries, that could (a) be better spent feeding and housing and medically treating people who need it, and/or (b) be better spent by the people whose money it was in the first place by letting them keep and use it instead of taxing it away to pay for policing the world.
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