I find the imaginativeness of NYT readers heartening--and distressing. The suggested names for this latest "war" were illuminating, entertaining, clever, incisive, but I'm troubled by the use of the word "war" in this context, as in so many recent contexts.
I recall that for years the pols wouldn't refer to the Korean War as a war. It was a "conflict" or a "police action," because no one was willing to use the word "war." We'd fought two devasting world wars and weren't able to admit to another, even though hundreds of thousands of lives were lost in the four-year "police action."
Same with Viet Nam. For years, it wasn't called a war, but a "conflict."
But lately we've cheapened the word war. We have wars on poverty, drugs, AIDS, and, lately, terror, or as our eloquent president pronounces it, terr'r. We've diluted the terrible consequence of the word "war," making it a Madison Avenue term to be applied to any challenge, of any parameters, against even nameless enemies, such as addiction, unfair distribution of wealth and, lately, terr'r. For those who've lived through real wars, these recent appications must be galling indeed.
Then threre's this: Even though the standard dictionary definition of war doesn't include any reference to the military balance or fairness of the conflict--no factor such as the odds of victory--I've always felt that if a military encounter is to be called a "war" there must be some element of risk, some question about the outcome. Accordingly, our invasion of Grenada couldn't be called a "war," not because we didn't invade a sovereign state (which we assuredly did), but because that state hadn't declared war on us, hadn't done anything to us, in fact, and was a little-bitty place that was manifestly vulnerable. Same with Panama. We invaded Panama, raced through its capital city and killed innocent Panamanians (as well as hundreds of Noriega's soldiers) to "arrest" its ruler. Not a war, though, because there was no doubt about the outcome. We were too powerful to have "made war" on Panama.
Now, however, with Afghanistan and Iraq, suddenly "war." Why do we use this word? Are we hyping here? Are we justifying, or sliding away from what's really happening? Are we electing to use the awful, horrifying word war so that we don't have to admit that we're really just invading powerless foes to act out our aggression on helpless states? Are we willing--are we psychologically compelled--to use the word war to avoid acknowledging that we're really empire-building, defeating hapless foes in order to entrench our forces worldwide, to allow us to dominate the planet?
Just asking.
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