The cost of war, in living color
The recent leak of pictures of American caskets obtained under the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) and Ted Koppel’s recitation last week of the dead so far in Iraq have a lot in common. Both of the events bluntly portray the other outcome of war that Americans don’t want to deal with: death.
On April 23, the website The Memory Hole released some three hundred Air Force photographs procured by author Russ Kick through the FOIA. The photographs showed rows and rows of flag-draped coffins, one-fifth of which are actually photos of the Columbia astronaut coffins. Apparently, through some sort of mistake at the Pentagon, Kick’s request was approved and the photos released. Critics pointed out that it was a disservice to the families of the dead depicted to parade the photos on the Web. The only problem with this argument is that we cannot discern who specifically is in which casket. They’re merely rows of anonymous caskets.
The Bush Administration had a tough policy in place that forbid news organizations from photographing war dead at military bases. This was, the Pentagon says, “an effort to protect the sensitivities of military families” (NYT, 23 Apr. 2004: A14).
Last week, Ted Koppel read the names of the soldiers killed thus far in Iraq on Nightline. Sinclair Broadcast Group, the owner of eight ABC affiliate stations, ordered them not to air Nightline. “"The action appears to be motivated by a political agenda designed to undermine the efforts of the United States in Iraq," said a statement released by Sinclair.
The actions of both Koppel and Kick were designed to let America know that war is real and war has costs. Behind the rhetoric of “they hate us for our freedoms” and “we’re fighting a war for freedom” are the actual people who are doing the fighting. Americans don’t want to acknowledge that there are real people dying. As long as we can fly a flag and sing “Proud to be an American,” we can avoid the sight of dead bodies which bring our singing and waving to a halt as we realize that human beings are losing their lives for what may or may not be the right reasons. Rhetoric works until people see the bodies; then, they’re stymied by the realization that there are real people driving that rhetoric, somewhere in a land we only read about in newspapers.
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial was unpopular when it first opened. Where was the statuary? The larger-than-life images of soldiers doing heroic things? The Vietnam War was not World War II. The cause of the war was questionable; were men dying for no reason at all? The somberness of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial reflects that ambiguity about the war: it was not a war to celebrate. There was no victor.
Americans can’t stand being reminded of the human cost of war. They would rather live with their eyes closed and listen only to the sounds of “freedom,” “hate,” and “liberation.” Who do they think is going to defend their freedoms? Kill the people that hate them? It’s human beings, and human beings are being killed in Iraq. The fact that the administration wants to hide this fact as much as it can is a testament to the queasiness it has about this war. If it were a nobler conflict – if we were fighting Hitler again – we might see patriotic images of the dead being saluted by fellow soldiers. Here, though, there dead are relegated to shadows – an indication of the shadowy and ambiguous nature of the war itself. In this war, death is not noble; it is merely a reminder that human beings are being sacrificed for the agenda of people who have suits, ties, and comfortably air-conditioned offices and live with the satisfaction of knowing they will never have to lose their own lives in that war.
