Talk Isn’t Cheap

President George W. Bush’s address on Monday night was brief and decisive, yet it had dual effect on those who heard it.

On one hand, it crystallized, abruptly and almost shockingly, the inevitability of American military action in Iraq. Up until Monday night, it had been possible for us to keep such thoughts at bay. So long as the UN Security Council was deadlocked, so long as diplomacy was being pursued, it was easy to tell ourselves that nothing could really happen—not yet, anyway. But now, despite weeks of tense international debate, we have arrived at the very place we hoped we wouldn’t have to go.

At the same time, for all its brevity, the president’s speech has also induced a lingering effect, a pervading feeling of dread and worry and anxiety about what’s to come. For all the optimistic scenarios that pundits have put forth about how the war might play out, there’s always a note of uncertainty undergirding their observations. Meanwhile, pessimistic scenarios about the international diplomatic aftermath abound. And the raising, once again, of the terror alert to orange only reinforces the fact that we have no idea what effect the United States’ actions will have—in Iraq, in other Middle Eastern countries, in America and around the world.

Like the rest of the country, staffers at the Nashville Scene are divided about the war on Iraq. Some of us are strongly, vehemently opposed, arguing that George W. Bush’s policy is wrongheaded at best—a determination to assert America’s dominance in a world that resists and resents our country’s power the more we try to assert it. At worst, some of us would argue, Bush and his hawkish advisers are somewhat sinister, resolved to impose the will of a small cadre of ultraconservative thinkers on a nation and a world that do not reflect its views.

Some of us are incensed at President Bush’s failure of diplomacy. For those critical of the administration, the path to war has been marked by remarkable acts of American arrogance, from the rejection of the Kyoto Protocol to our withdrawal from the Antiballistic Missile Treaty and the International Criminal Court to the last-minute balking at a vote on a second UN resolution. These are isolationist acts, and thus have brought about our current isolation.

Others of us support the war, even though they share some of the same concerns. Diplomatic efforts have failed miserably to curtail Saddam Hussein’s vicious hobby of collecting deadly and potentially devastating weapons. While every rational fellow short of Bill Kristol believes that diplomacy should always be tried first, it can be as useless in dealing with malicious regimes as reasoning with a mugger. If we can swiftly, surgically remove a destructive dictator and fully disarm his probable supply of chemical and biological weapons, then why wait on a diplomatic process that is almost destined to fail?

As a paper, we simply can’t speak as one voice. Among ourselves, we engage often in vigorous debate about what’s happening. But as much as we might disagree with one another, we’re reminded during these discussions of basic but profound truths that bind us all. Foremost among them is that the loss of human lives in wartime is a horrible thing, whether the dead are American or Iraqi. For those on our staff whose relatives are among the first wave to do battle with Saddam, war’s sacrifices and terrors are even more acute.

For those of us who remain connected to the war only through television and radio, discussion and debate are crucial. They remind us that, no matter how removed we might feel, or desire to feel, from what’s happening halfway across the world, we cannot afford to be insulated, given this conflict’s present and future costs. Dialogue also reminds us that no matter how steadfast we might be in our opinions, the realities of global politics don’t lend themselves to simple, one-sided explanations. Even if diplomacy breaks down between leaders of the world’s most powerful nations, it needn’t break down between citizens. In times of conflict especially, every act of thoughtful, reasoned civility matters.

Most of all, debate and discussion remind us that we are human. Whether we support this war or are against it, we are all frightened by it. Fear has been made a fact of everyday life in our country. As we write this, at press time, we still don’t know when and how America will strike—or if Iraq will strike us. We don’t know what will happen afterward: to the volatile Middle East, to a post-Saddam Iraq, even to our own country, still facing the challenges of a staggering economy and national trauma.

But we know these things to be true: We will continue talking to each other, asking difficult questions, because this may be the only way we can make sense out of something so massive and incomprehensible. And the moment the battle is joined, regardless of our misgivings about the cause, we will stand behind our troops completely.