The F-word is working two jobs and I'm - as I am. We're shit tired whenever we see each other, and prone as possible. Last night when I got home around ten he was upset about U.S. strikes on Somalia. I was upset too, but figured the best way to distract him from his tiring outrage (because now, we dream - beyond dreaming of sleep or rest - of not fucking being tired anymore) was to talk about how stupid it was from a strategic point of view, how excessively and appallingly stupid it is to think you can target some few dozen people usefully with an aeroplane.
Because once the moral outrage takes over it's too easy to visualize what's happening to Somalians for the worst possible reasons. Getting invaded and then blown up so some peice of crap administration in a poorly educated country far, far away can still have the cosmetic appearance of pursuing the group that blew some of its shit up in 2001. Even talking about the crashingly stupid uselessness of it all is demoralizing, though; there's no way the decision-makers involved weren't fully aware of that stupidity and uselessness and decided to go ahead anyways. So cynical, so cosmetic, so fucking evil. Luckily we were tired enough last night to avoid thinking about that.
I've never really reckoned myself a pacifist, but the posing aspect of war - the bit, to be frank, that would not be allowed if women ran the world - makes me hate the people who wage it. And I'm not talking about what you have to do psychologically to the enemy, I'm talking about what you have to do psychologically to your own people and to your allies to keep them convinced you're on the right track. Churchill keeping Stalin in the war by having all those Canadians slaughtered at Dieppe, for example. The United States dropping nuclear bombs on a bunch of beaten Japanese to make Stalin play nicer in the division of the Western Front. Getting popular support for the invasion of Iraq by pretending it had nuclear bombs and international terrorists.
If Americans fall for this one too, they're putting themselves right into Stalin's class. And then the velvet trap of America-hating I somehow managed to avoid despite years of seeing them as tourists in Paris (surely one of the least flattering ways to see any nationality) is going to be irresistable.