War

During World War II, my grandfather was killed when a submarine hit his ship off the coast of North Africa. My mother never got to meet her dad and of course, neither did I.

Last week, the U.S. fired its first torpedo since World War II, also sinking a vessel in the Indian Ocean. I’m assuming among the 83 dead, there were men who will never meet their grandchildren either.

There is an obvious cost of war. Not just in the soldiers who die but the ripple effect on their families.

Tragically, it is not only soldiers who die in war. A bomb struck a girl’s school last week, killing dozens of children. One can only imagine how many generations of a family or a country will grieve for the senseless loss AND hate those responsible for it.

On Wednesday, I sat on a bench in my town basking in the glow of a sun that has been missing too long. I noticed two boys across the street. They couldn’t be more than four or five years old. They were marching up the hill, chanting, “Hut, 1, 2, 3, 4. Hut, 1,2,3,4.” Suddenly they ran for cover, firing their imaginary machine guns, brought to life with their rhythmic screams of “rat-a-tat-tat.”

It was a scene reminiscent of my own childhood and I wondered when and why young boys of any generation learn to “play” war.

One might ask why in a column called, Moving Up Mondays, I would write about the tragedy of war. It’s simple. War steals opportunity. Lives are both directly and indirectly shaped by these conflicts in ways that can reverberate for generations.

Beyond the human cost of war, there is also the financial one.

Currently, the United States alone is spending one billion dollars a day in this war. That is four times as much as we spend on the arts in a year. The first week of the war will be the equivalent to what we spend annually to provide food and nutrition support to women and infants. If the war lasts a month, it could cost the equivalent of what we spend in a year on cancer research.

Apparently, it is easier to find money for bombs than it is for arts, food and cures.

Our connection to war, like those two little boys, can become fanciful. “Leaders” wield power indiscriminately and talk about “acceptable loss and casualties.” Jingoistically we talk of good winning over evil.

We move about our days, perhaps catching the news or tuning it out. Maybe we notice or complain when conflict drives up the cost of our gas, oil or other goods. We may disagree with our leaders but our opposition is limited to our expressions of frustration and muted resignation.

What more is there to do? I don’t know. But at the very least, we can acknowledge and respect the profundity of human loss.

Recommendation of the Week: Take a few minutes now to search for the names or images of the school children lost. In doing so, connect your humanity to theirs.