“For six thousand years we labored under the delusion that the only way to stop a war was to get together more regiments and battalions [including, of course, more and more efficient technology of murder] than the enemy could, or vice versa, and hurl them upon each other until one lot was destroyed and, the one having nothing left to fight with, the other could stop fighting. We were wrong, because yesterday morning, by simply declining to make an attack, one single French regiment stopped us all.”
This passage from William Faulkner’s [with one small bracketed addition] A Fable says so much so directly (for Faulkner). A few decades later First Lady Nancy Reagan said it even more succinctly (which is not to say better) with “JUST SAY NO,” although her focus was sex, not war. Lysistrata combined the two—war and the withholding of sex—to great effect.
Wouldn’t it be truly glorious, efficient, and wise if those who made war happen had to do the fighting, just them, no armies to do the dying for them? But humanity as a whole, judging by our long record, has been well equipped with brain-power while short-changed on wisdom.
Others have raised the message, too, but I like Faulkner, so I offer his words to you. Yet, perhaps the most troubling rendition of this message comes from Dalton Trumbo in the form of “Johnny Got His Gun,” a 1939 novel about World War I, made into a 1970 movie. It’s the story of an American soldier who loses all his limbs and half his brain, so that he has no sight, hearing, speech, yet is alive and thinking, wondering what happened, where he is, who’s there, though the medical staff at the field hospital don’t know of his ability to think, only that his heart still beats. The opening moments of the film showing generals and politicians and the “glory” of war provide the message behind the credits and a military drum-beat. Then comes the bomb blast. Then the army surgeons speculating over Johnny’s delimbed body.
I offer nothing new today, just a reminder from a great writer in our leaders’ latest moment of searching for war. I love finding gems such as this and feel spurred to pass them along. A Fable is about World War I, the “war to end all wars,” (a phrase attributed to Woodrow Wilson), was published in 1950, but entered my consciousness just this week. Lysistrata is a play by Aristophanes first performed in Greece in 411 BCE. which I first encountered in college (Oglethorpe University). Being young and not yet smart, I was of two minds about the anti-war message (Peloponnesian War) of Lysistrata, actually three. First (or last), it is a hoot. More importantly, it spurred my own then uber-masculine urge to fight to defend whatever, while contrarily opening my mind to the peaceful bliss of Canada. Fortunately, I turned out to be 4-F and have lived out my life in relative peace in this, my nation of war-willing leaders.
Circling back to Faulkner’s opening quotation, the expected price of refusing to engage the enemy in battle is a bullet in the back from one’s own officer, but that’s another story.