We do not want this, but who cares? When I think about all the madness that young people have been born into, it just makes me want to scream -- particularly because of simplistic ideas and actions like those being taken by my president, George W. Bush, and the recogntion that for now at least we can't change things. Hugely significant precentages of Americans and Britons do not want to wage war on Iraq, but we are cast aside by an intellectual lightweight and his obsessed Cold War idealogues.
It's not completely wrong for the US to use military power. I once, briefly, had an English friend who berated me, as a US citizen, for not coming to England's rescue soon enough in the second world war. At the time, my feeling was "well, what do you want me to do? I'm just a kid", but of course he was completely right. And for that matter, that's how I feel about the present course that my country is on, because The Machine is in operation, and GWB says it's my way or the highway -- but liberating Baghdad isn't the same thing as liberating London. The future would be clear in repelling the Nazis from England, the Netherlands, Belgium, France... What is clear about the future in repelling the dictator of a completely artificial creation from itself?
So. I guess it's the highway for me then. And that English friend can't be bothered to return my calls anyway, and I truly just don't care anymore.
The poem:
Here they go again,
The Yanks in their armoured parade
Chanting their ballads of joy
As they gallop across the big world
Praising America's God.
The gutters are clogged with the dead
The ones who couldn't join in
The others refusing to sing
The ones who are losing their voice
The ones who've forgotten the tune.
The riders have whips which cut.
Your head rolls onto the sand
Your head is a pool in the dirt
Your head is a stain in the dust
Your eyes have gone out and your nose
Sniffs only the pong of the dead
And all the dead air is alive
With the smell of America's God.
Harold Pinter, January 2003
www.guardian.co.uk/Iraq/S...43,00.html
