The America of our Children

Well it’s 5am* and I’m sitting at a Starbucks in Times Sq. working on term papers—what better time to blog?  Come to think of this, this is my last post for POL 213.  Hmmm.  I better get to my point before I get too nostalgic.

Somehow, I got to thinking about mission statements.  Every organizational body has a mission statement.  Even those without a stated mission have one, and its often one they would not themselves quickly assign. 

Companies have performance expectations.  Schools have educational goals.  Gangs have a territory to protect.

That led me to question, what, is the mission statement of the United States, and, consequently, what is the job of American statesmen? 

The Declaration clearly lays out what the Framers wanted America to become—a place where man’s inalienable rights are protected and nourished.  Fully achieving such a goal, however, is a pipe dream to say the least.  Perhaps in a utopia, yes, rights would be protected supremely, but the Constitution certainly does not accommodate this.

In the Federalist Papers, the writers make it clear that they are not looking to construct a perfect society, a desire reflected in the idea of a “more perfect union.”  The argument is made that, not only is the Constitution a flawed document—flaws rooted in man’s fallen reason—but that it is only the roadmap towards such a union.  Man’s inability to reach a utopia is, in fact, the reason a Constitution is needed, for “if men were angels no government would be necessary.”

The American way of life is one where citizens—sometimes chaotically, sometimes decidedly—define and redefine what it means to be an American.  Each morning, the sun rises on a new America. With each new law, the former America passes away.  America is not a static term, but is rather a work in progress, a work that will continue as long as America is America. 

The beliefs of the American people shape the nation’s character, and their hopes shape its future. 

America is moving.  Many conservatives decry such movement.  They shouldn’t.  America was created to be a nation in flux.  There is no common law or inordinate reverence of precedent.  Originalism is important, yes, but even originalists must remember that the make-or-break reason to look to the Constitution is because the Framers were largely right—the Framers weren’t right merely because they wrote the Constitution.

The measure of America’s greatness should be in relation to this perfect union—is America becoming a more or less perfect union?  Progress can be measured binarily—has America become more or less perfect—periodically—has America become more or less perfect in the past 100 hundred years—tenurely—has America become more or less perfect under the current Congress—and daily—is America more or less perfect today than it was yesterday.

It is hard to say what progress (or lack thereof) the United States has made over the past 220 years, as such a measure would require a lengthy discussion of standards.  Thinking about the Federalists, though, makes me a bit pessimistic.

Whereas statesmen such as Madison and Hamilton once held court in the realm of popular ideas, partisan-pimps and panic-profiteers now filibuster the congress of public opinion.  Do Americans care about ideas, or do they just enjoy being convinced?  Why are the populists drowning out the intuitive statesmen in the current election?  How in the world are Sean Hannity and Bill O’Rielly household names, while most people still ask, “Peggy who?”

I am still an undying American optimist.  I still believe in our “rendezvous with destiny.” 

If we have become a less perfect union, though, what will it take to correct the tide—a changing of the guard?  A civil revival?  If we have become a more perfect union, how can we become an even more more perfect union?

These are the questions with which American statesmen must wrestle, and only time and the American genius can answer.

*-Posted after the fact; I was too cheap to pay for WiFi at Starbucks.

The Cost of Freedom

Lt. Col. Brian Birdwell is an interesting man—a man of passion, integrity, ideas, and conviction, and most certainly a hero.  I met LTC Birdwell over the summer in Austin, TX. 

 

Birdwell came to the national attention in 2001 as the closest living survivor to the plane that struck the Pentagon on Sept. 11.  Following the attack, Birdwell, who had lost over 60% of this skin to the ensuing fire, required over thirty surgeries over an extended stay at the Washington Burn Center.  While there, he received a visit that became the subject of a “too good to be true” chain e-mail that turned out to be true.

 

Three days after the attack, President Bush paid a visit to the burn center.  After talking with Birdwell and his wife, Mel, for a short time, the President faced Birdwell—heavily bandaged and barely conscious—and saluted him.  In 15 seconds that no doubt played out like an eternity, Birdwell slowly returned his commander-in-chief’s salute as everyone in the room’s—the President and First Lady included—eyes filled with tears.  (It is interesting to note here that, out of respect, it is always the inferior soldier who initiates the salute, and holds it until his commanding officer retunes the gesture.)

 

Birdwell now speaks around the country on his expeience and view on the War on Terror. 

 

I recently heard Birdwell being interviewed on WallBuilders Live, during which he said something I’ve heard him say several times before: Casualties in war are not a measure of success or failure but a measure of cost. 

 

It seems like whenever I mention my support for the troops and their mission, someone has to bring up the body count.  “How can you support the war?  Almost four-thousand Americans have come home in bags in just five years!  How many more Americans need to die?”

 

I’ve always found this argument to be specious, but LTC Birdwell’s quote gives what I was feeling concision, authority, and timeliness.

 

We lost over 117,500 men in World War I.  We were involved for two years.

 

We lost over 418,500 men in World War II.  We were involved for four years.

 

We lost over 50,000 men in Korea.  We were involved for three years.

 

We lost close to 60,000 men in Vietnam, with many more still missing.  We were there for a decade.

 

In those four wars, we lost 58,750, 103,750, 18,000, and 6,000 men per year (respectively).

 

In each of these conflicts, we lost more men per year then we’ve lost during our entire time in Iraq.  Were these wars unjust too?  Okay maybe Vietnam was, and maybe even Korea, but what about World War II?  We were the victims of a provocative act of terror.  An entire race was being systematically eliminated.  Europe was slowly being taken over by despots and demagogues.  Was there more to the conflict than the body count?

 

418,000 servicemen killed in the line of duty over the course of four years—that’s about 300 a day. 

 

In our four-year engagement in the Second World War, we liberated a people and overthrew a dictator with imperialistic aspirations.  Its cost?  Close to 300 servicemen a day.

 

Don’t get me wrong, it was a tragedy, but does that make it unjust.  The casualty count in World War II was a gauge of the pervasive evil in the world and a measure of the fallen world we live in.

 

The same is true in Iraq.  There are a half dozen reasonable arguments for why the war is unjust—I don’t believe most of them, but they’re reasonable.  A body count is not one.