Memorial Day of 2011 will soon be a rapidly fading memory. This is the seventh year I have sat at my desk to write on this Congressional Monday holiday while our nation was at war. It is the tenth year our young people have risked their lives in Afghanistan; the eighth year in Iraq.
For some of us, the memory will not fade. A constant awareness of a son or daughter, a parent, a friend or relative in harm’s way will be with us during every waking hour, often intruding even into our dreams, our nightmares.
Most of us, however, will not be so troubled. Some may pause to remember a parent or grandparent who fought in World War II, go to a parade and wave a little flag or post a word of gratitude and recognition on Facebook. We will quickly return to our normal lives and our routines of working, commuting and collecting the materials of life.
Those who fight would not deny us this luxury. The ability to pick up our normal lives and carry on, to allow our children to grow up unburdened by the fears and responsibilities they will face all too soon as adults – is indeed why soldiers fight.
Nevertheless, with recognition comes responsibility, and we set aside that responsibility too easily. The ascendance of materialism through media and our constant saturation in marketing has created a popular culture that is shallow and vapid; a culture which assumes without question that it is entitled to every largesse and every luxury, a culture which can pay occasional lip service to the sacrifices necessary to maintain our affluence, but which by and large is unconscious of the life and death struggles necessary to maintain what we take for granted.
In World War II it was clear to every citizen what could and should be done to support the war effort. In Korea and Vietnam we fought ideologies with armies and during the Vietnam War we struggled as a nation with the concept of questioning the war but at the same time supporting the warrior. During all these conflicts we were very much aware as a nation of reasons and costs. Things have been different during our latest decade of war. We have a peripheral awareness of the conflict. The enemy is a concept with a changing face and he does not wear a uniform.
The truth of the conflict is not that hard to understand, but it is very difficult to accept. Strip away the politics and the patriotism, the religion and the ideology and what is revealed is something much more fundamental. Our lifestyle built on an economy of consumption and high energy use is supported by a delicate framework of technology that is dependent on maintaining supply lines from around the world of materials that we do not have or do not produce. Even a Chicken McNugget contains materials from at least 11 countries: chicken from Brazil; bread crumbs from the UK; wheat from Canada, Pakistan, Paraguay and Australia; emulsifiers from Spain; dextrin from China and vegetable fat from the UAE. This entire supply chain is dependent on oil and the whole world knows under what countries the oil lies buried.
There are many among us who wish that they could do more to support our troops. We cannot all wear a uniform and put ourselves in harm’s way. We can lend our support to the many volunteer groups that exist to help our warriors. We can keep an awareness of the conflict alive in our thoughts, our prayers and our conversations. All of these are worthwhile efforts, but they address only the symptoms, not the disease of war. If we are truly weary of the disease, there is but one place to look for a cure, and that is in the consumption and the wastefulness of our entitlement. Are we truly willing to send a son or daughter to fight for our right to sit idling in the drive-thru line in our huge gas burners, waiting for the McNuggets? Are we willing that someone should die so that we can keep the thermostat at a balmy 78 during the winter and a cool 70 during the summer? Unless we are able as a nation to make this connection, to acknowledge the true cost of our largesse, the price of our willful ignorance will continue to grow and one Memorial Day will bleed into the next, and the next…
