I don't want to write about war
words from a devastated, naive and desperately-hopeful-despite-it-all American woman
I sit down to write my Substack tonight with many thoughts about the world and so little to say. The older I get, the less I know.
Of course I must mention the bombs. Seven American war planes dropped multiple B2 or “bunker buster” 30,000-pound bombs over Iran this weekend, apparently targeting their underground nuclear facilities. At least, that’s what I’ve read so far.
When I heard the news Sunday morning, I felt a familiar sinking in my chest. It was comparable to how I felt at the age of 15 when late one school night I heard similar news coming from my red-glowing digital clock radio. George W announced the US was invading Iraq to find their weapons of mass destruction. There have of course been other similar examples between then and now.
Never-the-less, who could read the news this weekend and feel anything other than dread, regardless of their politics. It’s just not good.
I think about war, I think about the upcoming Fourth of July dinner I have planned with some Aussie friends celebrating my home, a bit tongue in cheek. I despise the way the US bullies its way through the world, how no one keeps its nuclear weapons in check, yet despite its flaws, the longer I’m away from it, the less I hate America. I miss the culture, I miss the openness, the trusting nature of its people, joy-without-judgement.
The world, Australia included, looks on and talks eagerly about America. “Americans are not sitting around thinking about your country,” I always want to say as another Australian casually calls the USA a “failed state,” a “dying democracy,” a “falling empire,” etc. It may be true, but sometimes I feel personally attacked, particularly when the said person has never actually lived in, or even been to the States. But I am not trying to make excuses for my homeland; there are enormous problems. I loathe how much of American taxes go to its military, how America worships their war heroes and then forsakes their veterans.
I often think about a conversation I once had with a colleague. We were having after-work drinks and discussing the state of the world. He shared a perspective of America I’d never heard in my 30-something years: The reason, he said, that many countries in the West (including Australia) have free health care and higher standards of living is because they don’t have to invest on their own defense nearly as much as America does. “We can depend on American defense.” There’s probably some truth to his statement, though from what I can tell, the Trump administration is doing their damndest to sever those dependencies. I don’t think America is the best country to represent or lead “the West” for lack of a better word, but I sure as shit don’t want the West to detest America either.
The world is tired. I am no geopolitical expert. I feel so empty-handed and just empty for tonight’s Substack. Last night as I talked glumly with my family, my Dad sent me words written by an American historian and writer named Timothy Snyder. It made me pause as I consider the world’s fragility and pray we all make it to Friday.
Here it is.
Five things to Remember About War:
1. Many things reported with confidence in the first hours and days will turn out not to be true
2. Whatever they say, the people who start wars are often thinking chiefly about domestic politics
3. The rationale given for a war will change over time, such that actual success or failure in achieving a named objective is less relevant than one might think
4. Wars are unpredictable
5. Wars are easy to start and hard to stop
I don’t know why I feel inclined to comment on this particular bombing when I typically try not to write about politics on my Substack. I write to resonate, regardless of your politics. I want to speak past the ideologies and belief systems and directly to the part of the brain that makes us feel human. I began this Substack to write consistently, but I have loftier fantasies of writing words that bring together the most ideologically opposed.
In November of 2023 I wrote briefly about about Israel and Palestine and a glimmer of hope I found in the Seeds of Peace organization. It’s a nonprofit that brings youth and educators together from areas of conflict to attend a summer camp. It sounds far too simple and good to be true, but honestly that’s why I like it. As we dream of a future with more understanding and less violence, what better people to begin with than youth from the most diametrically opposed places, and what better starting point than the outdoor wonderful world of summer camp? (Am I sounding way too optimistically and stereotypically American? I probably am.)
I think too of struggles in my own community between people who are probably fairly similar, but every day wake up and read completely different stories on their phone, depending on their algorithms. I think of the Common Ground events I host and organize with my philosopher friends and our joint mission to come together despite this ominous trajectory.
Before there were bombs there was violence, before there was violence there was tension, before there was tension there was silence and before there was silence there was fear of speaking. We must be able to talk to people, even those we cannot stand, even those who preach hate and filth and obscenity because as long as it is words and not yet actions, there is a chance to change and be changed. As long as we can speak to each other and see each other as humans, we can have hope.
