Americans, often independent and splintered, learned on September 11th that – like it or not – we are tethered to our neighbors in ways we never imagined. As the world awaits the next phase of the U.S. response to the terrorist attack, Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Julia King examines the ethical paradox of a just war:
Transcript
Americans, often independent and splintered, learned on September 11th that – like it or not, we are tethered to our neighbors in ways we never imagined. As the world awaits the next phase of the U.S. response to the terrorist attack, Great Lakes Radio Consortium commentator Julia King examines the ethical paradox of a just war.
On one side of my home, there lives a jovial, white-haired grandpa who likes feeding birds and playing soccer with his granddaughters. A retired cop and staunch patriot, he plans to cheer out loud when the United States retaliates for the World Trade Center attack.
On the other side of my home, there lives a quiet, soft-spoken Mennonite couple. Thin, gentle people, they spend their time tending an organic garden and often share their tomatoes and flowers with my young daughter. They are pacifists, bracing themselves for the coming horrors of American warfare.
Sandwiched between committed Hawks and Doves, I’m lonely with my ambivalence.
Americans overwhelmingly say they support a military response. But how many of us answered the question with true contemplation, instead of simple reflex?
“My God,” we said as the buildings smoldered, “do something!” Our minds were made up before we even had time to think.
I both envy and mistrust such certainty. Some of my neighbors are as unyielding in their pacifism as others are in their wish to fight. Both sides are unwilling to consider that the answer might lie somewhere beyond the confines of their own firm beliefs. (Or maybe that there’s no answer at all.)
There are Americans who believe we can bomb Evil from the earth, while others believe that if we are just kind enough; Evil will wander off on its own, like a child without a playmate. And if we believe that our path — whether it be military action or inaction — offers the final solution, we seem to think we have no moral culpability, no blood on our own hands.
And yet we all must know by now, especially now, that with our convictions come ethical burdens. All we can do is follow the paths of our ideals to their logical ends and hope against all odds that they remain intact.
But they won’t, and that is the true horror of war. To fight means that innocent, precious human life will be lost. To refuse to fight means that innocent, precious human life will be lost. And either way, Evil will remain standing. Guilt clings to us all — like original sin — because none of us has been able to end hate.
This is why Americans weep. It’s why our nights are sleepless and our days are clouded with sadness. It’s why we hold to one another and light candles and why we have flooded our places of worship.
We know now what we never wanted to know: there is no such thing as innocence.