Lessons From Iraq: More Shock Than Awe

Thursday, December 15, 2011 was a day that many have long anticipated.  On that day the United States formally ended its involvement in the War in Iraq.  Amid controversy and uncertainty a modest ceremony marked the conclusion of this horribly prolonged conflict.  Future generations will undoubtedly debate the merits of a war that was a collection of contradictions from start to finish.

The numbers only tell part of the story.

·        Approximately 8 years and 9 months of fighting

·        Nearly 4,500 American deaths

·        32,000 Americans wounded

·        100,000 Iraqis killed

·        Tens of thousands of Iraqis wounded

·        Untold destruction of buildings and infrastructure

·        $800 billion dollars spent from the United States Treasury on the war effort

These statistics are cut and dry.  There is no debating them.  But the real story lies behind the numbers and will continue to stir controversy for many years to come.  I wonder, for example, how many people clearly remember why we created this war in the first place.

On March 20, 2003 the United States-led coalition initiated an invasion of Iraq through a relentless round-the-clock bombing attack which President George W. Bush called "Shock and Awe".  The premise for this invasion was never clearly established.  The Bush Administration insisted that they had evidence that Saddam Hussein's Iraqi government had a stockpile of Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD).  These included, but were not limited to, biological weapons that Saddam Hussein intended to use against the United States and several of the countries neighboring Iraq.

It should be pointed out that this was approximately 1 ½ years after the terrorists attacks of September 11, 2001.  The Bush Administration was desperately seeking a dramatic way to respond to that humiliating and tragic event.  At the very least, a diversion of sorts that could unify the nation and build a sense of national pride and superiority would be a welcomed change.  But the terrorist enemy of September 11 was a very different enemy than any we faced before.  They had no national boundary; no sovereignty.  They did not have military uniforms that clearly identified them.  We did not even know for sure who they were, let alone where they were.

On the other hand, Saddam Hussein was well known and quite visible.  We already had a strained relationship with him, having engaged in a short-lived war known as Operation Desert Storm in 1990 - 1991.  That conflict, led by President George H. W. Bush, had a clearly defined purpose: to drive Iraqi forces out of Kuwait following their invasion of that nation, and to be sure no other nations in the region would be Saddam's next target.

Now, twelve years and a Presidential generation later, things were a bit different.  Iraq had made no aggressive acts toward any of its neighbors.  For that matter, Iraq had made no hostile activity toward any nation, neighbor or otherwise, with the obvious exception of rhetoric.  Saddam Hussein was given to making all kinds of remarks that were less-than-friendly, especially toward the United States.

The American public was itching for a fight in the wake of 9/11.  Still, for all his shortcomings, President George W. Bush understood that the idea of going to war was serious stuff.  The people would demand a reason for sending their sons and daughters off to a desert to fight.  To be effective, the reason would have to include an eminent threat to us.  I have no idea where the concept of Weapons of Mass Destruction came from but there is no denying its effectiveness.  Not only did Bush convince the American people we needed to stop this perceived threat, but he also convinced the United Nations General Assembly, who authorized the invasion.

In a demonstration of irony we launched our defense against the Weapons of Mass Destruction stockpiled by Iraq  with our own, real-life demonstration of honest-to-goodness Weapons of Mass Destruction.  Shock and Awe was just that:  the United States shocked the world by their heartless, never-ending display of awesome destruction.  Night after horrid night the bombings continued.  Baghdad was a constant glow of red and yellow flames enveloped by thick black smoke.

It took a while, but when the Coalition forces finally secured Iraq and the United Nations inspectors had the chance to inspect, what did they find?  The answer is:  nothing!  No WMD's nor any hint of Iraq being remotely close to possessing the technology to produce any in the foreseeable future.  This led the three-headed monster known as Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld to conclude that there were underground tunnels throughout Iraq in which the WMD's were hidden.  Again, a thorough search proved no tunnels existed.  Eventually, the Bush Administration was forced to admit that there was no trace of any nuclear, chemical nor biological weapons anywhere in Iraq.

Having been embarrassed in this way the brain trust of Bush Administration developed another theory.  We went to war with Iraq because Saddam Hussein was providing a safe haven and training grounds for al-Qaeda.  And al-Qaeda was responsible for 9/11.  Yet once again having taken possession of the desert domain it was learned that there were no terrorist training grounds, no material support, no connection what so ever.

By now we are looking pretty foolish and downright aggressive in the eyes of the world.  In hopes of saving face another angle was promoted.  Saddam Hussein was an evil madman who oppressed his people and abused their rights.  He was a dictator with no regard for his people.  Thus we attacked in order to "liberate" Iraq form their hated oppressor and to bring democracy into the Middle East.

I find it a little hard to swallow this pill, however.  How can we say that we delivered Iraq from the horrors of oppression when we killed over 100,000 citizens, wounded 10's of thousands more, and left the infrastructure in ruins?  Who are the true oppressors?

Saddam Hussein was, in fact, an evil man.  I will not deny this.  But if Jesus taught us anything it is that the ends do NOT justify the means.  Driving Saddam from power by virtually destroying the entire nation is not justified.  In fact, in light of the so-called "Arab Spring" that has dominated 2011 one wonders what would have happened in Iraq if we had left the Iraqi people deal with their fate on their own terms.  Would Saddam Hussein have been toppled from power by a non-violent - or at the very least a much less violent - internal resistance movement?  We will never know.

It is difficult to compare the Iraq War with World War II yet a few observations stand out.  WWII lasted about six years, the last four involving the United States.  The total number of casualties is generally considered to be in the neighborhood of 62 million, though some sources put the figure closer to 70 million.  The United States alone lost over 416,000 soldiers.  Clearly we are talking about a very different kind of war.  Nevertheless, VE Day (Victory in Europe) and VJ Day (Victory in Japan) were highly celebrated and ceremoniously marked.  In comparison, December 15, 2011 was strikingly quiet and unassuming as it closed the door on a war that, for the United States, lasted more than twice as long as WWII.  Personally, I am glad.  I welcome the fact that this war was ended with little fanfare and hoopla.  We as a nation have little to be proud about regarding our involvement in Iraq.  We went to war under false pretenses and we kept up the charade for nine years.  We completely destroyed a sovereign nation that had presented absolutely no threat to us at all.  Once we came to realize that mistake, we were in it too deeply and had too much egg on our faces to correct the course.  So we played it out to the end, much to our shame.

Perhaps the most disturbing part of this war's conclusion is the attitude of the Right Wing politicians.  Senator John McCain, a true Hawk if ever there was one, declared just a few days ago that he still believes Saddam Hussein was on the verge of developing Weapons of Mass Destruction.  U. S. Representative Michelle Bachman stated in the last Republican Presidential Debate that she would indeed authorize a pre-emptive strike against Iran if she had any indication that Tehran posed a threat to our security.  Therein lies the true legacy of the Iraq War.

Pre-emptive strike.  We, the United States of America, can now wage all out war against any nation that we deem to be a potential threat to our security.  We do not need any hard evidence.  A mere suspicion will suffice.  The "enemy nation" does not have to do anything hostile or aggressive in order for us to justifiably annihilate them.  We only need to find - or create - some top secret report that says, in effect, that these guys don't like us. 

Is this honestly what we have become?  Are we going to forget about the basic premise of our judicial system:  the conviction that one is innocent until proven guilty?  This same reasoning tells me that I am justified to go out and kill the guy living down the street from me simply because I believe there is a very good chance he might try to rape my wife some day.  Never mind the fact that he has never said anything to anyone in my family.  Nor has he ever set foot on my property.  In fact, he has not done anything at all.  I just don’t like the way he looks at us when we pull into our driveway.

In 1945 George Orwell published the allegorical book Animal Farm.  In it the farm represented a mythical country; the farmer was the tyrannical dictator/monarch who ruled with an iron fist; the animals on the farm represented the working class citizens whose rights were routinely ignored.  What really stood out for me in this book was the way in which the animals, who staged a successful revolt against the farmer and took control of the farm, ultimately became the very thing they revolted against.  The pigs in particular, who were the equivalent of the Communist Party leaders, moved into the house once occupied by the farmer and his family.  One of the most dramatic moments in the book came when some of the other animals realized that the pigs were even walking around in two feet - just like the humans who once ruled before them.  The story was intended to demonstrate how the Communist revolutions of the early and mid 20^th Century failed to live up to their lofty ideals by taking on the essential corruptions and deceptions of the system they replaced.

The thing that bothers me today is this:  are we becoming the image of our enemy?  Has "Pre-emptive Strike" become our new mantra?  Have we learned nothing from the past nine years?  Or has the desert sun caused us to become delusional?

G. D. Gehr 

December 19, 2011

Comments invited below

Funding Cuts Are a "War Against The Weak"

I just read an important article in the Lancaster Sunday News.  It appeared in the column known as "In My Opinion" and was written by Dennis B. Downey.  The article was entitled Pa. Must Not Abandon Disabilities Services".

Mr. Downey does an excellent job of identifying the efforts of the Corbett Administration and the Pa. General Assembly to make drastic cuts in the important services for persons with intellectual and developmental disabilities.  These services are absolutely vital to the many citizens of Pennsylvania who depend on the therapies and rehab services that are quietly being scaled back so the public is not aware of it.  As has been the case far too often, our politicians and other public servants are targeting a group of citizens they know will not speak out in opposition simply because they cannot do so.

I find it horribly ironic that this same General Assembly, while stripping services from a vulnerable and defenseless group, certainly did not mind giving themselves yet another pay increase of over 3% recently.  We need to call these people to accountability.  Remember, they are supposed to be working for us.  And by "us" I mean ALL of the citizens of Pennsylvania, not just the ones who are likely to vote for them.

I urge you to read Mr. Downey's article.  If you are a citizen of Pennsylvania do not let this crime continue.  Take action.  Call your Senator or Representative.  Call the Governor's Office.  Tell them you will not stand for such abuse.  Let's get our priorities in order and protect those who can not provide for themselves.

For the full article by Mr. Downey click on the link below.


http://lancasteronline.com/article/local/548137_Pa--must-not-abandon-disabilities-services.html



G. D. Gehr
December 11, 2011
Comments welcome

"For Unto Us... A Personal Journey of Faith

Married couples go through nearly every imaginable range of emotions and challenges as they face life together.  I won't say the decision to have children is the most important one, but it certainly has to rank among the top two or three.  For some, that decision is made for them.  Sort of.

My wife and I were married in 1981.  A few years later we faced the reality that we were not going to have children of our own.  Shortly after that we turned to the possibility of adoption.  It was not a difficult decision for us to make.  We were equally committed to the idea.  But there remained a few obstacles, mostly in the form of adoption agencies.

Contrary to what some believe adoption agencies are not "baby stores".  In fact, we found most to be extremely uncooperative.  We began exploring the world of adoption in 1984.  It was the start of a remarkable journey that flirted with catastrophe at times.  I never knew my wife and I were such terrible parental candidates until we began talking with the experts.  I guess I was puffed up with pride and could not see what we were really like.  I mean, I was a pastor who had some training in psychology and counseling and was, by nature, a compassionate and nurturing kind of guy.  My wife was a nurse who was even more nurturing and caring than I.  Neither one of us had any criminal record or even traffic violations in our closet.  We were what one might label squeaky clean.  Boring, perhaps, but clean.  And, if I do say so myself, qualified to be parents.  Boy did I have my eyes opened!

One agency told us that because of my career we were too unstable.  Pastors tend to move around too much.  They wanted to place children with couples who had deep roots in the community and would be expected to stay in one place, at least until the child was grown.  Another agency told us that we were not rich enough.  Actually, what they said was our income level was below the minimum that they could accept.  In other words, they were not going to place their children into poverty!  Yet another agency gently informed us that we were too old!  At the time I was 30 and Lillian was 29.  However, this agency had a waiting list that averaged seven years, which meant that I would be 37 and Lillian 36 when we would make it to the top of the list.  The problem was that they had a policy that they would not adopt children to couples over the age of 35.  Thus, we were over the hill!

On and on it went.  We tried private agencies, church agencies, para-church agencies and the State system.  They all ended in disappointment and frustration.  If someone would have told me that a Christian pastor and his nurse-wife could not possibly be approved to be adoptive parents I would have said, "No way!"  But there was no denying our situation.

By the fall of 1989 we found ourselves moving out of State when I accepted the Call to serve as Pastor of a rural congregation in Indiana.  At first we agreed to take some time off from the adoption thing and just settle into the community.  My wife was working as the head nurse in a doctor's office.  Before long her employer told her of a special needs couple who learned that they were expecting a baby.  Their families agreed that they were not able to raise the child but they did not want to consider an abortion.  It was decided that they would put the child up for adoption privately.  The doctor asked if we were interested.  After giving it careful consideration we said "Yes."  To make a long story short, the couple changed their minds during the second trimester and decided to raise the child themselves.

Several months later the doctor approached us again.  This time she had a young, unwed teenage girl who was pregnant.  The father wanted nothing to do with the girl or the child and the girl did not want to become a mother, at least not until after she graduated from high school.  Once again we saw an opportunity.  This time things really progressed over the next several months.  Lawyers were talking, we had names chosen and we were getting a nursery prepared.  You would think two rather intelligent people would learn their lesson by now, but we didn’t.  One day the doctor informed us, in a most solemn tone, that the young girl's grandmother had stepped in and decided she would raise the baby.  We felt as if we had our hearts ripped out of our chests.  It is fair to say that we grieved almost at a comparable level as if our own baby had just died.  I know I shouldn't say that, because there was no death, actually.  We probably should have found solace in the fact that this baby was going to live and remain, more or less, in its true family.  Nevertheless, we suffered a terrible blow to our emotional health.  I, especially, went into a state of depression.  Lillian did too, but she coped with it better than I did.  We eventually landed on our feet, but the path we took was not a pretty one.

In my denomination each congregation is part of a district, and each district has an ordained minister who is the supervisor of the pastors within the district.  The title of this supervisor varies from one district to another but the structure is basically the same.  In this particular district we were served by a "District Pastor" named Terry Hatfield.  When Terry learned of our story he offered tremendous support.  Eventually he also told us of an acquaintance of his, a member of the Church he used to pastor, who was caseworker in an adoption agency.  He offered to make a phone call on our behalf.

Within a few weeks we received a phone call from this woman.  Would we be interested in not one, but two children?  Two full brothers, nine days short of a year apart, had recently come under her caseload.  These two boys were already offered to three other families but all three had turned them down.  The boys were only 14 months and 2 months in age, respectively, but there was some evidence that the older one might have some developmental challenges.  No official diagnosis was made.  Every family to date agreed to take the younger one but not his older brother.  The Agency, however, refused to split them up.

A meeting was quickly arranged.  It happened that not only was the caseworker a member of our denomination, but so were the newly appointed foster parents.  This foster family was going to be in our area for Thanksgiving to visit the father's parents.  It was agreed that we would meet them and get to see the two young boys. 

With an indescribable feeling of joy, apprehension, uncertainly, self-doubt, unworthiness and perhaps most of all, reverence, we knocked on the door and were greeted by a most delightful family.  I have absolutely no recollection of the house, nor the owners of the house.  But I will never, ever forget the image of those two precious young boys.  I believe to this day that the caseworker knew what she was doing in arranging this meeting.  She knew that once we actually saw the boys there was no way we would say no.  She was right.

We spent the rest of the weekend in deep prayer and much soul-searching.  The Monday after Thanksgiving I placed the call to the caseworker.  Yes, we were interested.  We wanted to make both boys a part of our family.  We were convinced beyond any doubt that this is what God had been preparing us for.

One week went by and we received a large envelope in the mail with an abundance of papers to be read and signed.  Another week went by and we spoke with the foster parents on the phone.  They told us that once we decided what names we wanted for the boys - should we choose to change their names - - we should let them know so they could begin to use them.  This way it was hoped the boys would begin to recognize the names we wanted by the time we gained custody of them.

Week three came and went.  The Agency informed us that they were hoping we could have custody before Christmas, but that was becoming unlikely.  Then, early in week four, we received the call we thought we would never have.  Everything was set.  We had a court appearance scheduled for December 23.  We were the last case on the docket before Christmas break. 

The courthouse was a ten hour drive from our house.  The foster family offered to serve us supper and put us up for the night, if we wished.  In the wee hours of the morning on December 23 we set off for our destination.  That afternoon was nothing short of magical.  It was a typically cold and windy winter's afternoon in mid-western America.  But none of that mattered.  We met with our lawyer, who was yet another member of our church denomination.  And then we appeared before the judge, who was very thorough and asked us all kinds of questions.  He seemed particularly interested in our faith and the Church of the Brethren, which was unfamiliar to him.  I can't recall a thing we said, but I suppose it was sufficient, because in a whirlwind of activity papers were signed and custody was granted on a temporary basis while the adoption proceedings continued.  We returned to the Foster Parent's home for supper, with a family that had just doubled in size.

We rested for a while after eating and then decided we needed to make the long trip back to our home.  We left the home of that wonderful foster family late on the evening of December 23.  After driving non-stop through the night we pulled into our driveway early in the morning on December 24. 

Although we had legal custody of the boys, in the eyes of the law the adoption was not finalized and we were not officially parents.  In truth, however, God brought our family together on that Christmas Eve.  From that day until the present Lillian and I have always held a special reverence for December 24.  I fully understand that our experience in no way compares to that of Joseph and Mary's.  The Incarnation and the Virgin Birth are unique and most holy events.  The miracles surrounding the birth of Jesus are indeed the greatest demonstration of God's love for humankind.  Yet there is no denying that God looked favorably upon Lillian and me, too, on that incredible day when our prayers were answered and our lives were blessed.  December 24^th has become a most precious day for us.  We carefully and respectfully treat it with honor, for it was on this day that we experienced our "homecoming".  In just a few days we will observe our twentieth anniversary of that dreamlike occasion.  By the grace of God we have overcome unbelievable obstacles.  We continue to be challenged, too.  The initial suspicions concerning our oldest son proved to be correct.  In time he was diagnosed with Autism, Mental Retardation, and, more recently, Schizo-Affective, along with several minor challenges.  These will never change.  He will need constant supervision and care for the rest of his life.  For reasons I do not understand God has called my wife and I to assume that responsibility, no matter how inadequate we have proven to be, and that is something we have accepted.  God has never abandoned us.  He has produced one miracle after another to sustain us and provide for our family, and we praise him for every blessing.

In some ways I find myself identifying with Joseph, the husband of Mary.  One might say that Joseph was an adoptive father.  He raised a son who was not biologically his own, yet he treated him as if he were.  Joseph had his doubts, according to the first chapter of Matthew.  Yet ultimately he was humbled before God and obeyed the Lord's will to the best of his ability.  Somewhere along the line Joseph fades off into oblivion.  Twelve years after the birth of Jesus we come across the final account of this remarkable man when he and Mary take Jesus to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover (Luke 2:41 - 52).  The very next passage, however, introduces Jesus as a grown man approximately 30 years of age and beginning his public ministry.  The scripture remains silent with regard to Joseph's fate thereafter.

At one time I remember thinking that Joseph deserved more recognition.  For all practical purposes he was, after all, the earthly father figure for our Savior.  And judging how Jesus turned out he must have done something right!  So why is the New Testament so vague about this man?  Oddly enough, we do not have even one word that is quoted from his mouth, nor is there any record of his death.  It doesn't seem fair.

As I thought about this, however, I came to the realization that it's not about Joseph, it's about God.  God is the one who brought this family together.  God is the one who provided for them in the crowded city of Bethlehem when they were far from home and with no place to sleep.  God is the one who saved them from Herod's wrath and gave them safety in the foreign land of Egypt.  And God is the one who lovingly brought them back to Nazareth where Jesus could grow and develop into the young man his Heavenly Father intended him to be.  Joseph had a very important role to play in this drama, but it was no more than a supportive role, at best.

In many ways, then, I am inclined to think that Joseph is a wonderful model for me and perhaps for all of us.  He quietly did exactly what God wanted him to do, without recognition or fanfare, yet with a holy dedication that appears to have been almost radical.  Matthew 1:19 describes Joseph as a "righteous man".  Does anything else need to be said?

Adoption is a marvelous gift; a privilege that defies description.  It is a humbling experience to raise somebody else's child.  Along the way I have been constantly reminded that it is not about me, however.  It is about the child, or in our case, the children.  It is always about the children, and so it should be.    Above all, it is also about God, who loves, calls, empowers, and saves.

We are the children of God (John 1:12; 1 John 3:1) by way of adoption (Ephesians 1:5).  I am lovingly reminded of this every time I look at my two sons and think about our incredible story.  I suppose one of the things that impresses me the most about all this is the way in which this all came about.  Lillian and I tried everything as we took matters into our own hands.  Interestingly we tried to force the issue of parenthood for exactly seven years - - a good biblical number that has not escaped my notice in hindsight.  It also happened to be equivalent to the length of time on the waiting list for the agency that claimed we would be too old!  Regardless, all we got in return for our efforts was frustration, guilt, and failure.  We actually came to the point where we agreed that this parenting thing was not going to happen.  We were, in many ways, broken and defeated.  It was a rather liberating experience when we agreed to tell God that it was OK;  we accept the fact that we were complete as a couple even if we did not have children.  Having finally come to that conclusion and turning everything over to God, the Lord took the reigns and performed the miracle that we could never accomplish ourselves.  Perhaps we needed to go through all the frustration and the heartache that we did in order to appreciate the wonder and the power of our Lord.  "For when I am weak, then I am strong", the apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:10.  I understood.

Yes, Christmas Eve is the time when the Christian community pauses to reflect upon God's love expressed to us in the infant of Bethlehem.  Immanuel:  God with us.  It is the beginning of the process whereby we are adopted into the Family of God, a process finalized at Calvary.  This has been accomplished not by anything we had done, but based entirely upon the grace of God himself.  The power and the wonder of this theme has been played out in the life of my family, and I am humbled at the thought.

"For unto us a child is born;

Unto us a son is given..."

Isaiah 9:6