What has the horror in Ukraine brought up for you from your previous witness to catastrophe? What do you remember from your earliest awareness of global violence?
Copies of my 2019 essay collection, Twilight Time: Aging in Amazement, are available directly from me (signed) or from Amazon or your local bookseller.
Viet Nam was the nonsensical war going on that caused hundreds of thousands of us to hit the streets, eventually leave the country, and do whatever we could to bring an end to the daily atrocities being shown on television while American families were eating dinner. I do believe it was this expose' of the real meaning of "boots on the ground" that forced an end to a conflict that was not winnable. After all, the Vietnamese people whether from north or south vietnam, lived there mostly on a subsistence level. There was no where to run, no where to hide. Their only option was to resist.
American families did not want to think about their sons (who were drafted and forced to participate) shooting children in the head, or tieing up women working in the rice paddies and raping them before they killed them. But that was what they were seeing on television. It was brutal. This was no humanitarian intervention designed to improve the lives of the Vietnamese people. Everyone could see that.
Peace is not profitable, but.. War is. Billions and billions of dollars change hands as weapons somehow move into positions around the world. The arms dealers don't take sides. They have no favorites. They're in it for themselves. Their motivation is profit, and profit they do. Their pockets are constantly overflowing.
History, as it's currently written is the story of war after war after war. It amazes me that men have failed to notice that war, as a problem solving method, is absolutely ineffective. But then, they've been marching around the planet, bashing each other's heads in, stealing from each other, raping women and killing everyone and anyone who gets in their way for thousands and thousands of years. It seems to be what they do. They beat on their chests like silverback gorillas, or football players in the NFL..bursting with pride and commemorating their momentary triumph.
So now we're watching a little man from Russia exert himself so all the world can see the disruption and devastation he's capable of as he pounds on his chest declaring his mighty masculinity and sending those Russian boys off to commit atrocities which will affect them significantly for the rest of their lives. It's a never ending cycle of devastation, casualties and profit profit profit. And seeing as men have put themselves in charge of the planet, I hold them responsible for the never ending onslaught of crimes against humanity.
The Vietnam war, known in that country as the American war, seemed to be the defining experience of our generation. I was married first to a college-educated war resister and second to veteran from a working class background. Both abhorred the war. Thank you especially for "the arms dealers don't take sides." The older I get the more I see the thread of greed that is carried along through all events, the slaughter of the powerless by the never-satiated.
The first is my nineteen-year-old cousin dying on the battlefield in Vietnam. He was there for only a few weeks before being blown to pieces. It changed my family in ways that I would never have imagined. As for me, it was the first time I took to the streets to protest.
Participating in rallies against the war in both DC and NYC would prove to be the catalyst to finding my voice, and it taught me to stand firm for my beliefs.
The second incident is 9/11.
I lived in NYC at the time; the days and months that followed were awful, life-altering, and, at the time, overwhelming.
The memories of both events can haunt me, unlike any other remembrances. That said, they were instructive as well: I learned to see the world as it is; because I do, I act accordingly—when confronted by anger, I turn away; should I witness abuse, I counter it with self-determination, and I stay engaged in the democratic process—I vote, and I support representatives who share my vision of the world (fingers crossed).
Today, as I witness the new and horrifying events happening in the US and the world over, I somehow remain motivated.
Rosemarie, I'm attaching the link to a previous Substack the includes my experiences protesting the Vietnam war. I'm grateful to you for continuing to see the big picture. Many Americans have been shielded from the world and many have adopted the libertarian perspective that is contemptuous of the common good. Thank you for transforming your grief into participation. https://susiekaufman.substack.com/p/public-domain?s=w
I grew up in Britain surrounded by people who had lived through two World Wars. Those who were in combat didn't talk about the horrors, of course, and none of them spoke of The War (WWII, which had pushed out civilian memories of the Great War) except with great nostalgia for the camaraderie they felt. The Blitz, buzz bombs, the threat of Nazi invasion, were the background of my childhood, making it feel as though the war was still on. It wasn't, of course, and that's a crucial distinction between their lives and mine. WWII seemed cozy to me. What terrified me as a child were the 1970s IRA bombings of civilian targets in London, which left me with a lifelong anxious suspicion of unattended luggage and packages.
This is so thoughtful. The way you distinguish between a coziness associated with someone else's wartime and your own fear as a vulnerable civilian. I was in London on Armistice Day in 2011 and felt some of that nostalgia among the throngs of very old men wearing red poppies in their lapels. American patriotic feeling never has that quality for me, but it could again be a question of distance.
Thank you, Susie. BBC TV's Dad's Army is a good example of veteran-approved viewing for my generation. I've written about it, in case this is of interest. If you would rather I not include a link, do please delete this comment, and my apologies: https://annettelaing.substack.com/p/who-do-you-think-you-are-kidding?s=w
Thank you, Susie! I just unlocked this post so anyone can read it. Sorry about that! Btw, I offer a free option that gets folks most of what I write. ❤️
I find myself thinking about the dead on Ukraine's land and wondering if I can find a record of my grandfather's family who remained in Miropol in the early 20th century. My ancestors are calling me... If they didn't lose their lives to the pogroms and starvation Grampa fled, they probably lost their lives in the Miropol Massacre, the victims of which are honored by Wendy Lower's new book, The Ravine. I am reading it. It keeps me up at night. But I am not looking away from history, which, as the saying goes, is not history, it's not even over yet. I think of the women and it makes me think of Korea's women taken for "comfort" by the Japanese in WWII and of Nigeria's girls taken by Boku Haram TODAY. What if the better half of the world took over?... It is a fair question though not necessarily the right question. #womenshistorymonth
I didn't know about the Miropol Massacre....but I believe one of those mass graves was just recently unearthed in Latvia. I feel the calling, too. I wonder if we can think of it as singing. What would that be like?
Viet Nam was the nonsensical war going on that caused hundreds of thousands of us to hit the streets, eventually leave the country, and do whatever we could to bring an end to the daily atrocities being shown on television while American families were eating dinner. I do believe it was this expose' of the real meaning of "boots on the ground" that forced an end to a conflict that was not winnable. After all, the Vietnamese people whether from north or south vietnam, lived there mostly on a subsistence level. There was no where to run, no where to hide. Their only option was to resist.
American families did not want to think about their sons (who were drafted and forced to participate) shooting children in the head, or tieing up women working in the rice paddies and raping them before they killed them. But that was what they were seeing on television. It was brutal. This was no humanitarian intervention designed to improve the lives of the Vietnamese people. Everyone could see that.
Peace is not profitable, but.. War is. Billions and billions of dollars change hands as weapons somehow move into positions around the world. The arms dealers don't take sides. They have no favorites. They're in it for themselves. Their motivation is profit, and profit they do. Their pockets are constantly overflowing.
History, as it's currently written is the story of war after war after war. It amazes me that men have failed to notice that war, as a problem solving method, is absolutely ineffective. But then, they've been marching around the planet, bashing each other's heads in, stealing from each other, raping women and killing everyone and anyone who gets in their way for thousands and thousands of years. It seems to be what they do. They beat on their chests like silverback gorillas, or football players in the NFL..bursting with pride and commemorating their momentary triumph.
So now we're watching a little man from Russia exert himself so all the world can see the disruption and devastation he's capable of as he pounds on his chest declaring his mighty masculinity and sending those Russian boys off to commit atrocities which will affect them significantly for the rest of their lives. It's a never ending cycle of devastation, casualties and profit profit profit. And seeing as men have put themselves in charge of the planet, I hold them responsible for the never ending onslaught of crimes against humanity.
The Vietnam war, known in that country as the American war, seemed to be the defining experience of our generation. I was married first to a college-educated war resister and second to veteran from a working class background. Both abhorred the war. Thank you especially for "the arms dealers don't take sides." The older I get the more I see the thread of greed that is carried along through all events, the slaughter of the powerless by the never-satiated.
Two incidents immediately come to mind.
The first is my nineteen-year-old cousin dying on the battlefield in Vietnam. He was there for only a few weeks before being blown to pieces. It changed my family in ways that I would never have imagined. As for me, it was the first time I took to the streets to protest.
Participating in rallies against the war in both DC and NYC would prove to be the catalyst to finding my voice, and it taught me to stand firm for my beliefs.
The second incident is 9/11.
I lived in NYC at the time; the days and months that followed were awful, life-altering, and, at the time, overwhelming.
The memories of both events can haunt me, unlike any other remembrances. That said, they were instructive as well: I learned to see the world as it is; because I do, I act accordingly—when confronted by anger, I turn away; should I witness abuse, I counter it with self-determination, and I stay engaged in the democratic process—I vote, and I support representatives who share my vision of the world (fingers crossed).
Today, as I witness the new and horrifying events happening in the US and the world over, I somehow remain motivated.
Rosemarie, I'm attaching the link to a previous Substack the includes my experiences protesting the Vietnam war. I'm grateful to you for continuing to see the big picture. Many Americans have been shielded from the world and many have adopted the libertarian perspective that is contemptuous of the common good. Thank you for transforming your grief into participation. https://susiekaufman.substack.com/p/public-domain?s=w
I grew up in Britain surrounded by people who had lived through two World Wars. Those who were in combat didn't talk about the horrors, of course, and none of them spoke of The War (WWII, which had pushed out civilian memories of the Great War) except with great nostalgia for the camaraderie they felt. The Blitz, buzz bombs, the threat of Nazi invasion, were the background of my childhood, making it feel as though the war was still on. It wasn't, of course, and that's a crucial distinction between their lives and mine. WWII seemed cozy to me. What terrified me as a child were the 1970s IRA bombings of civilian targets in London, which left me with a lifelong anxious suspicion of unattended luggage and packages.
This is so thoughtful. The way you distinguish between a coziness associated with someone else's wartime and your own fear as a vulnerable civilian. I was in London on Armistice Day in 2011 and felt some of that nostalgia among the throngs of very old men wearing red poppies in their lapels. American patriotic feeling never has that quality for me, but it could again be a question of distance.
Thank you, Susie. BBC TV's Dad's Army is a good example of veteran-approved viewing for my generation. I've written about it, in case this is of interest. If you would rather I not include a link, do please delete this comment, and my apologies: https://annettelaing.substack.com/p/who-do-you-think-you-are-kidding?s=w
Delighted to include the link to your Substack.
Thank you, Susie! I just unlocked this post so anyone can read it. Sorry about that! Btw, I offer a free option that gets folks most of what I write. ❤️
I find myself thinking about the dead on Ukraine's land and wondering if I can find a record of my grandfather's family who remained in Miropol in the early 20th century. My ancestors are calling me... If they didn't lose their lives to the pogroms and starvation Grampa fled, they probably lost their lives in the Miropol Massacre, the victims of which are honored by Wendy Lower's new book, The Ravine. I am reading it. It keeps me up at night. But I am not looking away from history, which, as the saying goes, is not history, it's not even over yet. I think of the women and it makes me think of Korea's women taken for "comfort" by the Japanese in WWII and of Nigeria's girls taken by Boku Haram TODAY. What if the better half of the world took over?... It is a fair question though not necessarily the right question. #womenshistorymonth
I didn't know about the Miropol Massacre....but I believe one of those mass graves was just recently unearthed in Latvia. I feel the calling, too. I wonder if we can think of it as singing. What would that be like?
I never say no to see song