Life During Wartime

1.

You disagree with war. As a concept. Of course you do. You're the
product of a liberal education. And haven't there been enough wars
already ? In your lifetime alone ?

But you're also a mature person - mature enough to know that sometimes
harsh decisions have to be made.....Mature enough to realise that this
war is necessary. After all, just look at what they did. Unprovoked.
Without reason. The scale of it.....the suffering.....Occasionally you
have to fight for justice. That's what this war's all about.

So you support the war. Even though your life will be different. You
tell your friends: 'What are we supposed to do ?' you say. 'Sit back
and take it ? Sit back and put our hands in the air ? Abandon our
values ? Abandon our freedoms ? The way we live ? Everything we hold
dear ?' You get heated when you say these things. A little angry, even.
You feel passionate because for some people this war is a matter of
life and death. 'I just think of that explosion.....the sight of all
that rubble.....' you say and light another cigarette. Because what
happened was incomprehensible. It defied all rational thought.

Then a friend of yours - a good friend, a friend of some years
standing - says that the war is wrong. Just like that. This
generalisation.....this sweeping statement.....He advances it so
nonchalantly, sitting back in his chair.....It's stunning. You can't
believe it. You stub out your cigarette. This just can't be
right.

'How can you think that ?' you say. 'For god's sake - where's your
idea of justice ?'

You thought you knew this person. Clearly, you were wrong.

There follows a heated discussion - back and forth. Friends arguing.
You fight your corner. You point your finger (a long time since you've
pointed your finger). Then your friend, your nonchalant friend, equally
angry, leans forward and, hitting his chest with his fist, says: 'We've
done bad things too. We've killed and maimed too. Do you think we are
guilt-less ? The roots of this war.....the oppression.....Don't you
understand ? It isn't just about now. It goes back years. Hundreds and
hundreds of years. Atrocity upon atrocity. And if you don't believe me
go take a look. Go read up on it. In fact, I think you need to. You're
plain misinformed.

His eyes disturb you. And as for the hitting.....You've never seen a
person do that before.

Later, when everybody's gone, you take a look - read up on past world
events. One thing you've always prided yourself on is being informed.
So you skim the pages of history. And now here's the surprise: the more
you read the more you're forced to admit that, yes, there is another
viewpoint to this war.....a view you've completely overlooked. It's as
he said: things aren't so black and white. There have been injustices
on both sides. You close the book, turn off the light, and grudgingly
accept that, yes, we've done bad things too. But still you support the
war.

2.

It drags on this war. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months (They
said it would take some time). Still, you follow things closely because
war is important stuff. Even though it's going on thousands of miles
away, in another country - another continent - altogether. At night you
arrive home from work, settle in your armchair, and switch on the TV to
update yourself about the war.

Here's what's been happening today:

There's been a lot more bombing (newsreel of planes queueing up in the
sky). And there are more refugees (women, children, old men in rags). A
building has been hit (by mistake) belonging to an aid charity, killing
some workers. And now a new twist, so terrifying you can hardly believe
your ears: our enemies are sending letters containing deadly spores
through the post.

You shake your head and say to yourself: 'This is madness. This is
insanity. This really can't go on.'

There are pictures of our allies on the TV update - young, unsmiling
men rather comically dressed in civilian clothes. One of them looks at
you through the screen. He's sitting in the back of a truck, holding a
gun. He says he wants the bombing stepped up because 'it's a great
help'. 'Even though it means more civilian casualties ?' the reporter
asks. 'Even though more of your fellow countrymen might be killed ?'
The man - our ally - shrugs his shoulders: 'The more bombing the
better.'

Jump-cut to another man. This one's on an aircraft carrier, loading up
a plane. He's dressed correctly in military fatigues. Hard at work (not
just sitting around with a gun). Twenty one, twenty two maybe. The same
age as your son.

He too is being interviewed by a reporter. He calls the reporter 'sir'
and you like that - it's reassuring. This young man, like your son,
knows his manners. He's a credit to his parents. But just as you're
thinking these things - just as you start to relax in your chair - he
does something.....something that makes your blood boil. He points to
one of the bombs and shows you a picture he's drawn on the tail. A
skull and cross bones carrying our allies' flag. There's a message too
- a dedication. He says his artwork will 'remind them who's
boss.'

You shake your head again - you don't care for any of this. Pictures,
messages.....it disturbs you. It disturbs you in the same way that your
friend disturbed you when he pounded on his chest.

Irritated, you switch off the TV and go about some other
business.

3.

'Everyday life will be different.' This is what they say - the men in
suits who dominate the evening news. And it's true. The truest thing
they've told you so far.

You're aware of it already - of how different your life has become.
Walking along the streets (familiar streets you've known for years) you
find yourself looking up to the sky, just in case. And even though you
don't like to admit it (after all, you were a member of the Anti-Nazi
League back in the early eighties) the sight of a turban, of a woman in
purdah, of Arabic language, of Middle Eastern skin, tenses you
up.

And you're not interested in receiving letters any more. No way! The
postman can go to hell.

You've also started playing a game - a game entitled: What if I were
bombed ? The rules are simple: You close your eyes and try and
empathize with the people on the ground.....try and connect with those
poor, sick people fleeing the rubble of their homes. You imagine the
noise, the fear, the expectation.....the drawings and dedications
tearing people to shreds. Even in bed you can't stop playing this game.
You toss and turn - wake up for no good reason. And that can't be
right: usually you sleep so well.

How else is your life different ? Well, you don't go out as much as
you used to. And when you do you tend to get drunk.

Oh yes - That friend (the one who said the war is wrong), well, you've
lost touch with him. He's no longer part of your circle. He seems to
have taken the war to heart, joining marches and sit-ins. You shake
your head at the thought. What can he hope to achieve by doing things
like that ?

Sometimes, watching TV, you switch over from the war, even though you
like to keep informed. (Recently the news updates told you about new
bombs - bombs that incinerate everything within a five mile radius. Who
wants to listen to that ?)

No - you've had it with this war. War stinks. You want your life to
return to how it was.

Yet, however much you try and try and avoid the war you just can't
shake it off. It remains close to you, like a vast, cold shadow. It's
there everytime you look at the sky, everytime you cross the street,
everytime you wake from your sleep for no good reason.....