| June 3, 2005 Alaskan in Exile by Neil Zawicki I have reason to believe that I was poisoned by John Bolton, but I can’t be certain. Regardless, I’ve spent the night in a state of vicious wooziness, hurling like a frat boy after finals. Accordingly, I’ve filed a piece that I wrote on March 27, 2003, just before the invasion of Iraq. I hope this will tide you over until I am back on the rails… The soldier, more than anyone, prays for peace. There is no joy in the world picture today. Words have given way to action, and the human race will again write a dark chapter in the book of time. As our troops - on behalf of our leaders - confront the tyrant, he and his lieutenants stand proud before cameras and lights, and scoff at the speeches of the men in power. The circle is not broken. War is the absolute collapse of reason. A condition wherein nations' diplomacy has so broken down that there is no alternative but to raze cities and blow each others' limbs off. Thousands march in protest, while thousands march to war. "If you're going to write an anti-war book, then you might as well write an anti-glacier book." That's what Kurt Vonnegut's army buddy told him while he was writing "Slaughterhouse 5," his autobiographical account of his days as a prisoner of war during the bombing of Dresden. The protests continue, unheeded by the generals and politicians, because war is like the weather. It is a thing that happens regardless. And in Iraq tonight, soldiers on both sides will count their dead, and keep their weapons clean, and read scriptures, and say goodbye in absentia. Some will discover the Bible, others the Koran. More words in a soup of rhetoric, more hope in a hopeless place. The words will carry the soldiers. Some will hear them when they die; others will speak them when they live. But when the smoke is gone and the last bone identified, world society will have turned on a new tack, for good or ill. Stories will well up from the chaos, and children will read of another time, another war, when young men died, and power shifted. From protest comes one voice from thousands who cannot accept the ways of power, and feel duty-bound to say, "No." Perhaps the only value is their vote for reason, a powerful but fleeting voice that fades as definitively as it appears. Just as musician Richie Havens took the Woodstock stage 33 years ago, and sang the words, "Hey, lookie yonder, tell me what's that you see, marching to the fields of (Iraq)? Looks like handsome Johnny with a rifle in his hand, marching to the (Iraq) war. It's a long, long road, hey, before we'll be free." Neil Zawicki, exiled Alaskan, is Editor at Large for Insurgent49, a former reporter for the Alaska Star, and winner of the Alaska Press Club's 'Best Columnist' award. He is now living out the rest of his days in an undisclosed location in Oregon. He can be contacted at - neil@insurgent49.com |
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May 27, 2005 May 20, 2005 May 13, 2005 May 6, 2005 April 29, 2005 April 21, 2005 April 14, 2005 April 7, 2005 April 1, 2005 - also by this
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Reserved. in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership. |
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