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Independent 12 01 07
Noreen Golfman
Blowing in the wind . . .
Between mouthfuls of fruitcake and blissful stretches of catch-up sleep, you couldn’t ignore the war (oh, sorry, is that peaceful restoration work?) in Afghanistan during the holiday season if you tried. On the one hand, you were given license to let go and savour slow food, idle afternoons, and the constant pleasure of friends and family—in other words, fully appreciate the privileges of life in the West; on the other hand, you were constantly reminded of Our Boys our on patrol, eating reconstituted turkey in the Afghan desert—in other words, invited to feel guilty for not chowing down sand and fighting the war on terror.
Every time you opened a newspaper or listened to the news, especially on the CBC, you were compelled to reach for the box of tissues. If it wasn’t a story about some poor sod’s legs being blown off then it was an extended interview with some dead soldier’s parents. Indulging in another bite of dark chocolate was meant to be more painful this year. Here, have a plate of guilt with your second helping, my dear, and pass the self-reproach.
Amidst all the cranked up sentimentality and the daily barrage of stories from the likes of reporter Christy ‘one of the boys’ Blatchford or Peter ‘not exactly on the front lines’ Mansbridge, The Globe and Mail’s television columnist, John Doyle, dared to question the nature of the coverage. Doyle openly wondered, as is his right and responsibility, what in the world the public broadcaster was doing, let alone his own privately owned newspaper, devoting so much mawkish attention to the Canadian troops?
It’s one thing to pay full respect to the men (and some women) who have chosen a life in uniform and are therefore more or less voluntarily enduring punishing conditions, risking their lives many thousands of miles away from the comforts of home.
It is another to report on their presence in that unfamiliar place without so much as a hint that they don’t belong there, that the campaign to restore order and keep the Taliban from returning to power might be doomed, that blood is obviously begetting blood and that Canadians, and especially the Newfoundlanders who comprise such a disproportionate percentage of the overseas troops (compare with the number of African-Americans fighting in the doomed project of Viet Nam), are destined to return in body bags.
Shouldn’t we—the media, our public intellectual, citizens in general—at least be questioning, not merely glorifying or going sloppy over this fact?
Any time anyone questions the coverage, as Doyle did and as this column is venturing to do, you can practically hear the rage mounting in the neck veins of the military huggers. Peter Mansbridge threw a public hissy fit, obviously protesting too much. And Doyle told his readers that he’d been receiving some pretty nasty hate mail after his columns in December, not surprising, really, when you consider how defensive people are about the troops. I expect I’ll get some ugly stuff, too. It is a trite irony that you are chastised for daring to question the purpose of the military mission when that very mission is allegedly about restoring democracy and freedom of speech.
Which leads me to kick at another sacred cow--that is, Rick Mercer and that whole lot of star Newfoundlanders who went over to entertain Our Boys (and Girls) over Christmas, reportedly flown to unmarked destinations and, presumably, forced to share some dehydrated food and wear really ugly clothing for a few days.
What in the world is going on? Where are the protest songs of yesteryear? I guess, when General Rick ‘MUN Graduate’ Hiller invites you to come along and share the joy ride you have to join up faster than you can say ‘Bob Hope is dead.’ Reading Mercer’s widely circulated piece on the joys of serving gravy to the grateful Canadian boys was almost as painful as watching Peter McKay flirt with Condoleezza ‘Condee’ Rice.
Just when did the worm turn? When was it suddenly acceptable for your garden variety progressive, satire-loving celebrity to hug the troops, praise military actions, and pass the ammunition without so much as a hint of dissent or any questioning of the value of the mission, not to mention its obviously USA-linked agenda? Can you imagine popular talk show host Jon Stewart flying overseas over for a few feel-good shows in Iraq?
What looking-glass world have Rick and his talented cronies walked into?
Inevitably, in the United States the right-wing White House mongers who first encouraged the post 9/11 invasion of Iraq are now retreating faster than a camel in heat. It’s taken an awfully long time and thousands of body bags, but public opinion is finally forcing an undignified about face. The buzzword for 2007 is ‘exit strategy.’
But not here, not if you listen to Stephen Harper, not if you are getting all warm and fuzzy about how meaningful it is to stand in line waiting for a double double at the Tim Horton’s shop in Kandahar, not if Christy Blanchard’s columns make you cry, and you want to make Rick Mercer and his buddies honourary soldiers.
It is really hard to see how the road to open debate, let alone peace, can be paved with military offensives and the song and laugh shows of Newfoundland talent, and there is something deeply disturbing about the unquestioning belief that it can.
