The near-silence on the subject of the fallen military once struck me as odd too. But after a bit of ruminating, it makes perfect sense. The answer is clear but makes me extremely uncomfortable. I hope it will do the same for you.
Let's examine what would happen if each death was reported and widely spread across our newspapers and social feeds as our soldiers fell. Since July 2018 (five months ago, as I write) the powers that be admit to over 2,300 US deaths in the Afghanistan War. (More than 20,000 have been reported injured over the course of this war. Many of those injuries are horrific, and all of them matter, but let's stick with the deaths for now. I think the deaths alone will more than prove my point.)
Right now, those 2,300 deaths are just a number. They are part of the nameless, faceless masses. You are possibly shocked by that number, probably saddened, but very few humans are capable of grieving for those lost souls by the statistics alone.
Now, imagine for a moment that we've read the names of every one of those 2,300 plus over the last five months. Imagine that people have been inspired by these names and took that inspiration and used it to find and share photos of these fallen soldiers, and that often we've read their stories. Over these few short months, you've become acquainted with their motivation for joining the military, with who they loved and why they loved them; you've watched videos of their parents crying, their children alone, their spouses struggling along without them. Suddenly, you too are grieving. These numbers became names, the names became stories, the stories became human beings; you are staring at so many painful and ugly losses. You're broken and unsure. Now, you're less inclined to think about joining the military. You're more inclined to become politically involved. Some of you dig, and read, and learn. These bright people become more educated and informed. They realize Iraqi parents cry too. They become a voice and share the reality that war is a game played by the wealthy and lost by the underprivileged. You read these accounts and see the truth in them. You feel your own brand of discomfort for encouraging this game with your patriotic zeal or your silence. You feel shame because you were as brainwashed as all the other kids pledging to die (and kill) for an abstract idea, for a piece of cloth. Your nationalism and patriotism shift and you move toward becoming a world citizen.
Then, the next time Preston Willcott the third and the shiekh of all sand covet each other's power, or money, or oil, or have any stupid disagreement, they may have to recruit their friends' children to fight their wars. You may see senator's sons and diplomat's daughters facing off on the battlefield. Or, even more unthinkable, Preston the third and the sheikh may have to send their own progeny off to fight! That will never do! They are not pawns in the chess of war! They are queens, yes. They are even bishops, and rooks, and knights, but never pawns! They are never disposable... like OUR children! We are pawns; our progeny are pawns.
So, the powers that be work on never sending their own children to war. They convince the pawns that their beloved country is the best and their way of life is under attack. They keep an eye on the media. They publish questionable statistics on the DL. They allow a little opinion piece about an injured or dead soldier to go unchallenged, especially if it inspires patriotism, but too much on the wages of war and someone will call the editor, or the publisher, or the owner of the station. Suggestions will be made or orders given. If these fall on deaf ears a new editor or publisher may be sitting there in a matter of days. Perhaps the new editor will not play the game correctly and pawns will rebel.
And here's the hard part: we help them. We like to feel correct, superior, connected. We like to imagine that our mothers cry saltier tears than Afghan, or Russian, or German mothers, that our fathers sit longer by the graveside, that our way of life is the best. We don't like to feel duped or in danger. We don't like the discomfort of coming up from drowning in red, white, and blue. It's easier and less embarrassing to just sit here underwater with all these other flag wavers. Drowning isn't that bad! Right? For the Good American Christian, it's hard to face that God isn't a patriot. Even harder to admit that God's not an American. The idea that Jesus died for North Koreans seems a bitter fact to rest on the American tongue.
But I urge to accept that it is still a fact.
A very wise man once told me, "God is in unity. Satan is in division." (Wade O. Kennedy) In fact, that was the very statement that made me realize just how wise he was.
Patriotism and nationalism are divisive. They separate and cause strife. Being a citizen of the world is uniting.
I've come to believe that drowning in red, white, and blue just might be a sin.
So, bring on the names of the fallen, and the photos, and the stories. Make these people real for us all. Bring on world unity. It is high time!
