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Thus far we’ve lost six service members. That number will almost certainly increase as this drags on. And the hard truth is the majority of those casualties will be kids recruited out of high schools in marginalized communities.
When the powers that be talk about sending kids to war, they aren’t talking about their kids. So, whose kids are they talking about, and where do those kids come from?
I teach senior English at an urban high school in upstate New York. The poverty rate here is high. There are no Fortunate Sons (or daughters) on my roster. And several have signed up to join the military after graduation. While I have nothing but reverence and respect for anyone willing to serve our great nation, I’m not sure 18 is old enough–or mature enough–to make such a seismic decision, especially now that a protracted conflict with Iran is a real possibility.
On Monday, Sen. Markwayne Mullin (R-Okla.) said, “If anybody has ever been there and been able to smell the war that's happening around you and taste it, and feel it in your nostrils, and hear it, it's something that you'll never forget.” Of course, Mr. Mullin himself has never been anywhere near a war.
Trust me when I tell you: 18 year olds are still children. They say dumb things. They do dumb things. They act on impulse. And a high school like mine is fruitful ground for the military. Most days, there’s a recruiter in the cafeteria when the kids come for lunch. He brings pamphlets and a pull-up bar. He dangles a signing bonus. And once someone commits, the military has them. A contract with any branch of the armed services is the only bona-fide lifelong contract in our culture.
“Kids aren’t supposed to be hurt or used by adults, or sent to potentially die in the sand, when only a few months prior they had to ask permission for a bathroom pass.”
According to the US Department of “War,” the military is seeing its highest recruiting numbers in over a decade. By June 2025, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Space Force had already met their annual benchmarks. Perhaps this uptick is attributed to a sudden surge of patriotism. More likely, it’s because of a tightening job market for high school grads, or the rising costs of a college education.
Retired Staff Sergeant Tony Buchanan, who joined the Army in 2001 after high school, and served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, said, “While I believe the military does a good job evaluating these young men and women before enlisting them, legally, a recruiter does not need to speak with a parent.”
I have no doubt the military teaches hard work, respect, and humility, plus the opportunity to embark on some pretty cool careers. But the reality is, at some point, these young men and women could be called to a war front, regardless of their individual goals or beliefs. Because of that, we must hope that our leadership sees war as a last resort.
To justify the mission, Secretary of State Marco Rubio said, “The imminent threat was that we knew that if Iran was attacked, and we believed they would be attacked, they would immediately come after us. If we waited for them to hit us first after they were attacked by someone else, we would suffer more casualties and more deaths.”
As a public educator, when I build a unit of study, the first thing I determine is where I want the content to take my students. The defined endgame drives all planning. I don’t just make it up as I go along and hope everything works out. Students always know what we’re doing, why we’re doing it, and where it’ll lead. They might not like it, and they may not agree with it, but they recognize the rationale.
Regarding our attack on Iran, I fear the endgame hasn’t been defined, and if it has, this administration has done a poor job articulating that. On Monday, Mark Warner, the top Democrat on the Senate Intel Committee, said he’s heard the administration verbalize “at least four different goals in the last eight or nine days.”
Every winter I teach Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, a collection of short stories that explore the experiences of American soldiers in the Vietnam War. In it, O’Brien writes: “You don't make war without knowing why. Knowledge, of course, is always imperfect, but it seemed to me that when a nation goes to war it must have reasonable confidence in the justice and imperative of its cause. You can't fix your mistakes. Once people are dead, you can't make them undead.”
A CNN poll found that 59% of Americans disapprove of the Iran strikes and think a long-term conflict is likely.
Thus far we’ve lost six service members. That number will almost certainly increase as this drags on. And the hard truth is the majority of those casualties will be kids recruited out of high schools in marginalized communities.
“I’m a parent and teacher, so I see it as my job to protect kids,” said Derek Shuttleworth, a veteran educator who’s taught in Alaska, Oregon, California, and New York. “Kids aren’t supposed to be hurt or used by adults, or sent to potentially die in the sand, when only a few months prior they had to ask permission for a bathroom pass.”
This past January, I sat with a senior who’d just signed with the Army. He was excited about the cash bonus, enough to put a down payment on a “sick-ass truck.” Yesterday, he came back to see me. He’s now worried about the war. He doesn’t want to “catch a bullet in Iran.” He said, “I might’ve made a mistake."
Choreographer Robin Becker reimagines this story of the human tragedy of war and the eruption of violence during student protests into a powerful and poignant dance production.
To commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end of the American War in Vietnam, Hofstra University hosted a performance of choreographer Robin Becker’s “Into Sunlight.” Inspired by Pulitzer Prize-winning author David Maraniss’ book, They Marched Into Sunlight,
Becker reimagines this story of the human tragedy of war and the eruption of violence during student protests into a powerful and poignant dance production. Through expressive movement and visual artistry, the performance explores the psychological, emotional, and moral complexities, as well as the historical significance of this tumultuous period.
As a combat veteran of the American war in Vietnam and having yet to “put the war behind me and go on with my life,” as is often advised by those who were not there, I must admit that I was profoundly conflicted by this performance. “Into Sunlight’s” portrayal of the horror and ugliness of war set against the artistic backdrop of Robin Becker’s brilliant choreography and the skilled movements of her dancers, provided a striking contrast that mirrored a personal unease, one that I have long endured and labored to express in my poem "The Rose":
I remember once, in another lifetime,
noticing a lone rose rising defiantly
from beneath the rubble
of a destroyed city North of Danang.
It had no business being there,
adding color to the drabness of war,
beauty to the ugliness of destruction,
and the hope of life
when life held nothing
but suffering and death.
It was a contradiction
and created confusion
amidst the clarity of killing to survive.
...I stepped on it.
There are no flowers in a warzone
nor color, nor beauty, nor hope.
During the talkback that followed the performance, my uneasiness found expression in my rather abrupt request that audience members refrain from applauding my “service” as they had for previous veteran speakers. While I understood that their intentions were sincere—especially at an event intended to honor the "selfless sacrifices" of veterans—I do not believe that my actions as a warrior deserve praise or appreciation. Nor do I believe that participation in war should routinely be met with honor or celebration.
Moreover, after experiencing the horror of war so powerfully portrayed aesthetically in dance, I thought it crucial that the lessons conveyed by the performance not be misunderstood or, worse, glorified. I felt compelled to point out that the common practice of heroizing veterans is not only misguided and dangerous, but perhaps more importantly, fails to serve the interest of both veterans and civilians for several important reasons.
While recognizing that the mythology of warrior worship must be rejected, and that war is not noble, it is equally important to reject its antithesis as well, the mythology of troop blame. This view regards veterans as murderers and places the entire burden of responsibility for illegal and brutal war on their shoulders while backhandedly absolving civilians of culpability. In a democratic society, governance and responsibility for war is a collective burden—by and for the people. Thus, in a very real sense, there is blood on all of our hands.
The genius of “Into Sunlight” lies in Robin Becker’s ability to choreograph the sublime movement of her dancers to provide audience members a face-to-face confrontation with the harsh realities of military violence, human suffering, and death. By blending the visual beauty of dance with the discomfort, awe, pain, and exhilaration experienced by warriors on the battlefield, Becker creates a powerful contrast that evokes, in the realm of art, the intense and complex emotions associated with personal trauma.
“Into Sunlight” is not to be passively enjoyed in the conventional sense. Rather, it is participatory, reactive, and demands personal engagement and interpretation. Such art provides an immersive experience transforming audience members from passive observers into active co-creators of meaning. By blurring the boundaries between creator and audience, this performance encourages personal growth, introspection, understanding, self-forgiveness, and reconciliation, opening a pathway for audience members to begin the difficult task of identifying, processing, and healing the lingering effects of personal trauma and moral injury. Or, at least, it provides a way to come to terms with these experiences—to find a place for it in one’s “being.” It is precisely at this intersection where beauty meets the sublime that anguish is transformed into poignant artistry, allowing “Into Sunlight” to succeed in ways other more conventional therapies may have failed.
Though the performance is undeniably unsettling, I know I have benefited from the experience and am confident that other “victims” of war or of personal trauma, will benefit as well. Facing the demons we have for so long tried to suppress, though uncomfortable, is a difficult, though necessary, prerequisite on the path to healing.
Is it possible that collective humanity is actually turning against war—seeing it more as the primary problem than the solution to our global ills?
Some experts worry that, if the country went to war, many reserve units might be unable to deploy. A U.S. official who works on these issues put it simply: ‘We can’t get enough people.’”
“Vietnam Syndrome” hasn’t gone away! It resulted in the elimination of the draft and ultimately morphed into “Iraq Syndrome”—so it seems—and even though those lost, horrific wars are now nothing but history, the next American war is ever-looming (against Canada?... against Greenland?). And yet, good God, the military is having a hard time recruiting a sufficient amount of patriotic cannon fodder.
“We can’t get enough people”—you know, to kill the enemy and to risk coming home in a box. And maybe that’s a good thing! The public is kind of getting it: War is obsolete (to put it politely). War is insane; it threatens the future of life on the planet—even though a huge swatch of the American media seems unwilling to get it and continues to report on war and militarism as though they literally equaled “national defense.” After all, we spend a trillion dollars annually on it.
Indeed, war unites us... in hell.
The above quote is from a fascinating—and troubling—piece by Dexter Filkins in The New Yorker, which has long been my favorite magazine. What troubled me was the unquestioned acceptance in the piece of the inevitability, indeed, the normalcy, of going off to war. In that context, war is simply an abstraction—a real-life game of Risk, you might say—and the proclaimed enemy is, ipso facto, less human than we are, and thus more easily reduced to collateral damage.
The article addresses a highly problematic (from a military point of view) diminishing of the military’s recruitment base. For instance: “Recruiters,” Filkins writes, “are contending with a population that’s not just unenthusiastic but incapable. According to a Pentagon study, more than three-quarters of Americans between the ages of 17 and 24 are ineligible, because they are overweight, unable to pass the aptitude test, afflicted by physical or mental-health issues, or disqualified by such factors as a criminal record. While the political argument festers, military leaders are left to contemplate a broader problem: Can a country defend itself if not enough people are willing or able to fight?”
While this is no doubt a legitimate question—militarism, after all, exists in a social context—what’s missing from this question, from my point of view, is the larger one that hovers above it, emerging from the future. Perhaps the larger question could be put this way: In a world that is hostage to multi-thousands of nuclear weapons across the planet, and on the edge of ecological collapse—with its Doomsday Clock currently set at 89 seconds to midnight—can a country defend itself from its greatest risks by going to war? Or will doing so simply intensify those risks?
Here’s a slightly simpler way to put it: For God’s sake, isn’t war obsolete by now? Isn’t militarism obsolete? I’m surprised The New Yorker piece didn’t reach a little further into the stratosphere to establish the story’s context. Come on! This is the media’s job.
Actually, there’s also a second question emerging as well. Let me put it this way: Is it possible that collective humanity is actually turning against war—seeing it more as the primary problem than the solution to our global ills? Could this be so despite the quasi-meaningless borders the world has divided itself into, which must be “protected” with ever more omnicidal violence?
The story notes: “After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, a groundswell of patriotic feeling encouraged young people to volunteer for the military. The sentiment held as the U.S. attacked the Taliban and al Qaeda in Afghanistan, and then as it launched an invasion of Iraq, which quickly toppled Saddam Hussein’s regime. But, as those wars dragged on, the public mood soured. The troops deployed there were unprepared and ill-equipped, sent to pursue objectives that could be bafflingly opaque.”
The public mood soured? Could this possibly be described in a more simplistic way—with less respect for the national collective awareness? What if something a bit more significant were actually happening, e.g., a public majority began seeing the invasion, the devastation of hundreds of thousands of lives, as... wrong?
And might, let us say, enormous human change be brewing? The same thing happened in Vietnam. It turned into hell, not just for the people of Vietnam—the war’s primary victims—but for the U.S. troops waging it. It became unendurable. “Fragging”—the killing of officers—started happening. So did moral injury: psychological woundedness that wouldn’t go away. Vet suicides started becoming common.
Back to Iraq. At one point the story mentions Bravo Company, a Marine battalion that had led the bloody assault on Fallujah in 2004. Two decades later, some of the surviving members held a reunion, which was permeated with anguish and guilt. For many, the trauma of Fallujah hadn’t gone away, and they remained emotionally troubled, often turning for relief to painkillers, alcohol, and methedrine.
All of which is deeply soul-cutting, but there’s a bit missing from the context: “Twenty years after the U.S. military offensive in the Iraqi city of Fallujah, locals are still suffering from the lasting impacts of the use of internationally banned weapons by U.S. forces,” according to Global Times. This includes such hellish instruments of war as white phosphorous and depleted uranium, the effects of which—on local air, soil, water, and vegetation—do not go away.
And of course the consequences for the locals have been ghastly, including enormous increases in cancer, birth defects, leukemia, still births, infant mortality and so, so much more, including “the emergence of diseases that were not known in the city before 2004.” And these effects will remain present in Fallujah, according to the article, for hundreds of years.
But the U.S. had to defend itself!
This is insane. War, as I have noted previously, is humanity’s cancer. It affects all of us, whether we belong to “us” or “them.” It affects us collectively. Indeed, war unites us... in hell. The mainstream media needs to stop pretending it doesn’t realize this.