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Silence about 700+ Deaths; The Rule, Until There's a Propaganda Opportunity for the Obscenely Rich who Have Sent the young to die

by Frank Pitz

OpEdNews.Com

It has always been this way – during war – young men and women fighting and dying in the wars of obscenely rich men who – cowards that they are – would never deign to fight.  Fighting the wars of Kings, and Presidents, and Emperors, dying in the name of religion or nationalism, dying for a little understood cause.  Occasionally a newsworthy person dies, recently a football player whose name along with flowering accolades have been all over the news media.  All of a sudden, this death has seen a lifting of the Bush policy regarding silence from the media “we must never give a face or name to death.” Casualties are a passing reference – if any at all – until a newsworthy person dies.  Then it is okay it can be talked about, written about.  We are one and all treated to the stories about what this person “gave up” the vast sums of money he gave up playing football to go to war.  He died, that is a tragedy – but the true tragedy is that 700 plus other men and women have died as well.  Perhaps they didn’t give up a lucrative NFL Contract, but they gave up families, loved ones, and they gave up their lives. 

Are their lives any less newsworthy?  No, of course not!  But in the way America measures substance at this dawning of the 21^st century, those other deaths are not newsworthy.  They don’t sell newspapers, they don’t sell airtime, they don’t propagandize very well; but a football player does, a hero for the everyman, a public relations feather in the cap for the illegal, and obscene.  The good die first, fighting the wars of unclean rich men; cowards like George W. Bush. 

The neocons that foamed at the mouth, chomping at the bit for this war make light of it, how depraved.  Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz cannot even give the numbers of casualties when asked by reporters, they guess incorrectly.  At a press conference last month Rumsfeld coined a new phrase even for him when he stated that “people (troops) are fungible.”  That is corporate bloodsucker-speak for replaceable; so what the good Defense Secretary is saying to the parents and loved ones of those who have died in the neocons' private vendetta is that their sons, daughters, husbands and wives are exchangeable.  Rumsfeld views this war and resultant carnage as just so much corporate turnover, “people are replaceable, after all.”  All one must do is just ramp up the commercials for that “Army of one;” or “Looking for a few good men.”  In the name of all that is decent, why do the American people accept this soulless indifference from these people?

 Have we become so inured to violence and death that it rates no more than a passing blip on the radar screen of our collective soul?  We anguished for a time over the Trade Center deaths until commercialism and the profit motive replaced genuine grief with plastic flags and bumper stickers.  Now, as the tattered auto flags and faded bumper stickers litter the highways of this nation we move on to other pursuits.  The latest episode of Survivor is upon us. Who's being demeaned this week on American Idol?  What box office smash shall we spend ten bucks to see this weekend?  Who makes the list of “eligible” in the latest slick glossy mag at the supermarket check out counter?  Oh, yes, there is an election approaching out there; shall we pay attention, or is it too much like dumb and dumber?  Joe and Jane Six-pack can’t be bothered, it’s enough for them that their patriotism can be conveyed in the words of a Toby Keith song.  Hell, even John Wayne had to lose a few men to get to “Mission Accomplished.” 

 Surely that is not the feeling of the majority, is it?  Are we so busy with our daily commute and laboring to ‘keep up’ that we ignore the carnage?  The loved ones of the 750 dead souls sacrificed on the altar of greed and stupidity can never ignore; they will never forget and many, many of them place the blame for the death of their child, husband, father, mother at the feet of George W. Bush.  So too, the 20,000 wounded many missing limbs coming home from a war they did not seek.  It is always this way, the young so full of promise and dreams with plans and hope for the future immolated on the sacrificial stone of those who would dream empire.  

I am not, right now, proud of this country of mine, and don’t dare tell me to leave because I was born here and will die here.  Don’t even think of resurrecting that old “love it or leave it” archetype, for if anyone should leave, it is those who blindly follow down the rabbit hole of fascism.  “My country, right or wrong” is an aberration and right now my country is wrong.  We have become that which we revile at the Saturday cinema, the Snideley Whiplash of the world; except this is no cartoon, this is reality at its most frightening.  We have become the Pulp Fiction murderous provocateurs as we rampage blindly in a war against the Muslim world.  The strongest nation on the face of the Earth killing, rampaging against innocent peoples half a world away because of a web of lies and deceit.  Those who would immorally be King, Emperor or President have always done thusly, sending the youth to fight and die for dreams of empire.   Despots without conscience can ignore the bloodshed, make light of the waste, all the while dreaming of the next conquest. 

Divorced from reality and spinning tales of terror and fear while keeping the cowardly United States citizens at bay with colorful terror code alerts, and anonymous intelligence “chatter.”  George W. Bush can be likened to the axiomatic spousal abuser, holding forth with constant threats to U.S. citizens on the one hand; while blustering and blaming others for his problems.  He has no communication skills so he reverts to intimidation while adopting the demeanor of a thug.  With disdain for his neighbors he “bunkers up” with those who will slap him on the back, and tell him he is a great man.  Isn’t it past time for the American public to put out a restraining order on this abuser? 

Peace

Frank Pitz