We see, therefore, that War is not merely a political act, but also a real political instrument, a continuation of political commerce, a carrying out of the same by other means.
–Carl von Clausewitz, from On War (1832)
Long Beach has never been anywhere near a battle line. The events of 9/11 were on the other side of the continent. The feared landing by the Japanese during World War II never materialized. Even three attempts in the 1850s to secede from the Union came and went without armed conflict. Since California became part of the United States, war has always been elsewhere.
Veterans Day is not about geography, of course, and California has produced more than its fair share of military servicepeople. But for a peacenik who happens not to have any current or former military personnel in his social circles, it’s easy to relegate Veterans Day to the realm of pure abstraction.
There’s nothing glorious about war. At best it is a necessary horror, a needful utilization of violence to repel violence inflicted upon you and yours. In such a case, even though the action may be unbearable, the choice may be relatively easy to make: kill or be killed.
But in American history most military engagements have not been made in that relatively best-case scenario. The touchstone for “honorable war” is generally World War II, with the incomprehensible evil of Nazi Germany and an actual attack by the Japanese on the United States itself counting as more than enough reason to justify Americans’ taking up arms.
Few would quibble with 9/11 as justifying—if not mandating—a military response, even if the rightful targets were not as easy to pin down as the Axis powers. But even an instigation as relatively straightforward as 9/11 became hijacked by the American political system—which, in theory and practice, dictates all U.S. military engagement—leading to American boots on the ground in Iraq, a country with no firm ties to the 9/11 attacks. That military misstep cost over $800 billion, leaving almost 4,500 and another 32,000 injured (to say nothing of the toll on the Iraqi people). That California is the state shouldering the greatest number of American casualties in Iraq (388) gives us a clear view of how the politics-war dyad hits close to home even when home is nowhere near the fighting.
The feel-good thing to say is that our troops fight and die for our freedom, but too often that is a fantasy. Most Americans regard the Vietnam War, for example, as a conflict in which the U.S. had no business taking part, with our involvement having nothing to do with defending our country or even humanitarian aid, but simply an ideological push by American politicians against all things communist.
Those who fought in Vietnam are no less veterans than those who fought in World War II, and surely some of the former regard their service on the Mekong and in the jungle as necessary for our country as that of their predecessors in Normandy and Iwo Jima. However (un)true that maybe, one parallel is inarguable: they did what their political leaders called upon them to do.
Here in Long Beach, safe from attack to a degree that is foreign to most of the world, we have just weathered another round of the highly orchestrated, pitched battles that we choose to fight on a regularly scheduled basis: Election Day. These are battles of ideas. Should we have a death penalty? Should we legalize marijuana? Should Bill & Tom’s union get the same governmental recognition as does Gina & Brian’s? Who should be our military’s commander in chief, our congressmembers, our state senators?
This is the closest most of us will ever get to war, but it’s part of the process. For we are the country we create, the laws we enact, the people we anoint as our representatives.
According to the Los Angeles County Registrar of Voters, only 53.71 percent of registered voters cast a ballot last Tuesday. Add in unregistered voters otherwise eligible to take part, and that means fewer than half of the people who might have lent their voice to the electoral process did so. Some of these people declined to take part because they feel their vote does not matter. But the vote, like war, is cumulative. No single soldier ever won or lost a battle. But battles are won and lost all the time.
When I think of our military veterans, I have great respect for the job they signed on to do—a job I would never, ever want. I am glad to live in a country with enough military might not only to ensure its citizenry a certain kind of security, but also to intervene abroad to defend innocent people more subject than we to the violent, domineering whims of exogenous powers.
But I also fear for our military, because I know they will always be pawns, moved step by step in whatever directions our politicians point. Too often they are made to serve purely political ends, ones that have nothing to do with defending anybody. Vietnam and Iraq are merely the most dramatic examples. Troop deployments such as the hundreds currently stationed in Honduras and Guatemala as an extended front in our failed “War on Drugs” are unfortunate blips barely on the radar.
Want to honor our military personnel? Want to make “Support Our Troops” more than a bumper-sticker sentiment? Give them a leadership structure that won’t waste their lives on anything undeserving of their service and sacrifice. And give them a country to defend worthy of our foundational ideals (such as equality and self-determination).
You can’t make these choices unilaterally. But you can do your part. We’ve won some battles recently, but there are many more to fight.