I liked the idea of the Iraq Moratorium when I first heard of it. It combines the nostalgia many of us over-50s feel for the Vietnam war protests, back when we could believe that those demonstrations could (and arguably did) affect lawmakers, with the despairing need we feel to do something effective now about the disaster in Iraq. It offers a focus: we can take that everyday low-level consciousness of the horror and concentrate it into one day a month, a day that might, month after month, make us a united voice that cannot be ignored.
Then I started thinking about what I could do today for the first Moratorium Day. I thought about joining the local "Raise Hell for Molly Ivins" group, banging pots and pans at my Congressman's district office, but that seemed just about as futile and useless as any activity could be, since my Congressman is the odious John Doolittle.
I considered celebrating the occasion by writing yet again to my Senators and my Congressman (yes, the odious Mr. Doolittle), but it was simply too depressing to contemplate the carefully worded apologetics on Congresssional letterhead that I'd eventually receive in return, to prompt yet another round of rage and despair.
Then last night I happened to see Ken Burns on Olbermann, talking about his new documentary about WWII, The War. I was struck by one of the clips from the film, when a veteran said "There are no good wars. There are only necessary wars." Burns himself said that one of his reasons for making the film was to counter the idea, that because it was a necessary war, WWII was somehow noble and glorious, and that such "good" wars are great and valuable adventures for those involved in them.
So I've settled on a small thing for my first Moratorium Day. It's not much, but it has the virtue of being something that will make me—and those I talk to—keep thinking about what else we can do for the next month and the months that follow, and maybe help change the way people think of the Iraq war.
What I will do is never talk about the war in Iraq again. It is not a war. Iraq is not the enemy, and our nation is not in peril of invasion or attack by a nation that has lost more than 20% of its population as refugees and cannot manage to maintain basic utilities in its national capital. We are not at war with Iraq. We are an occupation force in Iraq.
Think about it. Roll the syllables over your tongue a bit. You can't make a glorious adventure out of an occupation. An occupation is bureaucratic and brutal. Chickenhawks can't envy (or pretend to envy) those who serve in an occupation. An occupation inherently needs to be ended.
It's a very small thing. But as we call this occupation what it is, as we change the way we talk about the Occupation of Iraq, maybe we will change the way a few of our Representatives and Senators think about it, too.
And maybe I can think of something bigger to do for the October Moratorium Day.
(Cross-posted on my blog, The G.A.P.)