Warning: Depressing Subject Ahead

Seriously, this is your warning.  This is a really depressing subject, and one that might ignite strong emotions, even if you don't share my views.  If you don't want to spoil your new years celebrations, stop reading now.  I'm not kidding.



I started working on this letter back in October.  First I held off sending it because I wasn't sure how I feel about war.  The more I think about it, the less sure I am.  Then I held off because I thought I might need to change the addressee.

But now January is here and the inauguration is around the corner.  And even though some time has passed, and our nation has experienced more tragedy, I still feel the same about our drones.

I hate our drones.  I hate everything about them.  I hate everything connected to them.  I hate the way they are described in the media, and the narrative we are fed.  Surgical strikes against militants.  I don't believe the strikes are surgical.  I don't believe they always hit militants.

So I'm sending the letter.  I'll have Autumn proof read it one more time I guess.  I'm sending it to the President.  My congress persons.  To the editors of my local papers.  And then I'm going to look for ways to do something more concrete.

It's not that I don't understand that these drones might be saving the lives of American troops.  I get that, and its important to me.  I don't want our troops to die.  I don't want anyone to die.

I think war has always been dehumanizing.  But these drones take it to a new level, and with dire consequences.  Soldiers may be removed from the battlefield, but in doing so we (all of us) remove ourselves from the consequences of our attacks.  We now have the ability to dehumanize the enemy without actually facing the enemy.  I have at least two issues with that.  First, we may be more likely to go to war if we don't see our soldiers in danger.  Second, we don't have soldiers on the ground making sure its actually the enemy we have killed.

That second part is what this letter is about.

The letter is an emotional appeal, something I usually try and avoid making, because they are often fallacious.  But, they are also effective... look at advertising.  Heck, look at me.  I'm writing this because one reached me.

I'm under no illusions the President will read this and change his policy, or the nation's course.  I mean, I think its a good letter, but I also realize the futility of writing a letter these days.  I also realize that I'm probably among a minority on this issue.  But I have to do something.  Too many civilians are dying in these strikes.  And far too many innocent children.

Estimates on civilian casualties vary widely.  I think the report from Stanford and The Bureau of Investigative Journalism are probably the best reads available.  We certainly aren't hearing much from our own government or media on the subject, beyond the now standard narrative.  This has to change.  All of it.  The narrative, the attacks, the consequences.  All of it.

This is my first step.  My first wish of the new year I guess.  I wish I had better answers, a solution, something more concrete.  For now its a letter.  Hoping more people talk about drones, more start asking questions, and more start demanding answers.

December 31, 2012

President Barrack Obama

The White House

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

Washington, DC 20500

Dear Mr. President,

My name is John and I am stay at home Dad to my beautiful twin boys, Quinn and Elliott.  The salary isn’t all that great, and that means money is tight.  Job satisfaction however, is off the charts.  Clearly, I have the best job in the world.

They are amazing children Mr. President.  They delight in experiencing the world.  Splashing in puddles in the rain, chasing frogs, petting caterpillars.  They seem happiest when embraced by nature.  A breeze brushing across their skin, the sun warming their backs, the scratchy tickle of brilliantly colored fall leaves and of course, catching falling snowflakes.  Their faces just come alive with joy and excitement.  Everyday is a new experience.  But lately, sometimes, when I look at them, I have to choke back tears.

I’ve been reading about our drones.  I don’t know who to believe about the drone strikes.  My government doesn’t seem to be telling the whole story and the story being told by independent journalists is too terrible to contemplate.  I don’t want to believe that story.  I can’t imagine the decisions you have to make.  I can’t pretend I understand all aspects of our foreign policy or the necessity of the actions we take around the world.  I’m not sure where the truth lies.

I am sure of a few things though.  Our country shouldn’t be killing children.  I am fairly sure that if our policies necessitate the death of children, even accidentally, then we need a new policy.  Or a new way to advance that policy.  Probably both.

I am sure if there is one thing that all people of the world can agree on, it’s that our children should not be reduced by bombs to horrific euphemisms like ‘noncombatant’ or ‘collateral damage’.  They are children, they are innocent, and they do not deserve to die under American bombs launched from American drones.

I am sure that parents around the world love their children as much as you and I love our own.  I am sure they want their children to feel the warmth of the sun on their skin, not the searing heat of bombs exploding.   The caress of a breeze, the flutter of a leaf.  Not the whoosh of a missile or fluttering debris.  I am sure they want to embrace their children, warmly, as I do.  As we all do.  Not consign their children to the embrace of cold, dark earth. 

I am sure when I look into the faces of my sons, my babies, I cannot fathom why some other parent’s beloved child had to die.

The United States can do better Mr. President.  We have to do better if we are going to live up to what we purport to be, a beacon of hope to the world. I am sure you can do better Mr. President.  You’ve been given a second chance.  You can stop these drone strikes.  

With all the strength and will and courage I have to offer, thank you Mr. President.  

Yours must be the worst job on so many days.

Sincerely yours,

John Szarowski