Shotgun Balcony
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
-Owen
I got to go to the Birthday Palace a couple of days ago. CNN showed a clip, during the runup to the war, of Saddam going out onto a balcony to grace the gathered masses with his beneficent countenance and fire a shotgun, a birthday present he'd just received, into the air. This was that palace. I got to hang out on that balcony. Even three years after the fall of Saddam's regime, after all the looting and at least a year of an Iraqi Army company using the palace as their HQ, the place was still incredible. Marble everywhere. Gaudy chandeliers and Saddam's initials carved into every surface. Cheap, flimsy luxury purchased with Suffering.
I marvel at the absolute, crushing, ash-in-mouth-unspeakable desolation brought upon humanity by Pride. Pride, the sister-sin of Fear. Pride made that place. Pride made that place horrible to behold. It's not just the garishness, the decorating scheme that looks like Emperor Palpatine, Georgia O'Keefe and Liberace all got together to design a mansion. It's knowing what went on around the place while people inside relaxed in luxury made possible by Suffering.
The building we use for our company CP used to be a butcher's shop. A butcher's shop on the dictator's private horse ranch in his hometown. I wonder, sitting in my CO's office while he tears apart another one of my engagement reports, the same thing I wondered a few days ago walking through that palace: how many people died in here? How many people were tortured right in this room? How many bodies would we find if we plowed up the earth all over this place? I doubt Saddam actually had people tortured right in front of him, at least not in the same room as the good furniture, but in those cases I wonder, how many people's fates were decided from this room?
I am not a proponent of the United States meddling in foreign affairs. I consider myself an isolationist in the classical sense. At the same time, however, I think about what Jesus told the rich man. Sell everything you have and give it to the poor. Would that rich man be justified in saying that he didn't want to "meddle in the affairs of the poor?" Of course not.
God makes some of us strong for a reason--to see if we are worthy. To see if we will look after the weak. To see if we will sell our metaphorical riches and use what we get from it to help the poor. Human nature dictates that there will always be underdogs, that there will always be oppressed and downtrodden people. I think the strong are obligated to protect the weak. We may not be able to help everybody, but we can make a difference for some. The horrible and liberal-leaning movie The American President had one good line that I like and remember: you don't fight the fights you can win--you fight the fights that are worth fighting. It is unwieldy dialogue, but I agree with it.
I think about that when I consider the direction we are headed after Iraq. Iran? Korea? China, by 2010? All of those together may break us. But I don't think that we should use that as a reason not to fight. Evil should be hunted down and fought. In its very lair, wherever possible. We may be fat and stupid and lazy, but we are still Americans, and we still can occasionally muster the hardihood to put our foot down. Nobility is humility. Leadership is service.
Everybody, every nation, eventually goes down. It is better to go down fighting. It is better to try. It is better to work toward peace than to change your definition of peace so that no work is necessary. Peace is not the absence of conflict. It is the absence of Suffering. It is the presence of Justice. It is worth fighting for, which is convenient, because with the state of diplomacy in the third world aristocracy of the UN, fighting is the only way to accomplish anything nowadays.
There is another kind of evil, to quote the monseigneur in Boondock Saints, which we must fear most. The indifference of good men.
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
-Owen
I got to go to the Birthday Palace a couple of days ago. CNN showed a clip, during the runup to the war, of Saddam going out onto a balcony to grace the gathered masses with his beneficent countenance and fire a shotgun, a birthday present he'd just received, into the air. This was that palace. I got to hang out on that balcony. Even three years after the fall of Saddam's regime, after all the looting and at least a year of an Iraqi Army company using the palace as their HQ, the place was still incredible. Marble everywhere. Gaudy chandeliers and Saddam's initials carved into every surface. Cheap, flimsy luxury purchased with Suffering.
I marvel at the absolute, crushing, ash-in-mouth-unspeakable desolation brought upon humanity by Pride. Pride, the sister-sin of Fear. Pride made that place. Pride made that place horrible to behold. It's not just the garishness, the decorating scheme that looks like Emperor Palpatine, Georgia O'Keefe and Liberace all got together to design a mansion. It's knowing what went on around the place while people inside relaxed in luxury made possible by Suffering.
The building we use for our company CP used to be a butcher's shop. A butcher's shop on the dictator's private horse ranch in his hometown. I wonder, sitting in my CO's office while he tears apart another one of my engagement reports, the same thing I wondered a few days ago walking through that palace: how many people died in here? How many people were tortured right in this room? How many bodies would we find if we plowed up the earth all over this place? I doubt Saddam actually had people tortured right in front of him, at least not in the same room as the good furniture, but in those cases I wonder, how many people's fates were decided from this room?
I am not a proponent of the United States meddling in foreign affairs. I consider myself an isolationist in the classical sense. At the same time, however, I think about what Jesus told the rich man. Sell everything you have and give it to the poor. Would that rich man be justified in saying that he didn't want to "meddle in the affairs of the poor?" Of course not.
God makes some of us strong for a reason--to see if we are worthy. To see if we will look after the weak. To see if we will sell our metaphorical riches and use what we get from it to help the poor. Human nature dictates that there will always be underdogs, that there will always be oppressed and downtrodden people. I think the strong are obligated to protect the weak. We may not be able to help everybody, but we can make a difference for some. The horrible and liberal-leaning movie The American President had one good line that I like and remember: you don't fight the fights you can win--you fight the fights that are worth fighting. It is unwieldy dialogue, but I agree with it.
I think about that when I consider the direction we are headed after Iraq. Iran? Korea? China, by 2010? All of those together may break us. But I don't think that we should use that as a reason not to fight. Evil should be hunted down and fought. In its very lair, wherever possible. We may be fat and stupid and lazy, but we are still Americans, and we still can occasionally muster the hardihood to put our foot down. Nobility is humility. Leadership is service.
Everybody, every nation, eventually goes down. It is better to go down fighting. It is better to try. It is better to work toward peace than to change your definition of peace so that no work is necessary. Peace is not the absence of conflict. It is the absence of Suffering. It is the presence of Justice. It is worth fighting for, which is convenient, because with the state of diplomacy in the third world aristocracy of the UN, fighting is the only way to accomplish anything nowadays.
There is another kind of evil, to quote the monseigneur in Boondock Saints, which we must fear most. The indifference of good men.
posted by Battler03 at 11:52 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home