Uncivil War

 

I think of my older and wiser and departed brother often. His academic studies involved war and international relations. He has more entries in the Sage Encyclopedia of War than anyone else. I recall when we were in high school a family visit to Gettysburg. I was fascinated by trees as we walked around that sacred place while Danny was interested in the battle and how it progressed. I also recall talking with him about that war and I said it could never happen again, and he said do not be so sure. He was nearly always right. As I listen to the news, which I seem unable to avoid, I am thinking how right he was. We seem to be on the verge of what I call an uncivil war. It is not a regional north versus the south affair. It is a fair versus fear affair. Fear seems inclined towards intolerance and violence whereas fair seems inclined towards openness and understanding. History suggests that fear will prevail. My training suggests that the future may not resemble the past. But my brother was smarter and steeped in history. I worry.

What bothers me most is that I have no control of what is happening or likely to happen in the future. I can vote, but it may not count. I can contribute to those I support, but my funds are limited unlike the deep pockets of the true believers and truly crazed supporters of the new uncivil war that is waging in this troubled land of the freely betrayed and home of the mentally wounded. What can I do? I feel hopeless. The few times I have strayed outside a small circle of similarly concerned people, I have been told to shut up and stay away … even by some family members. I am troubled.

I am so troubled that I seem to find it hard to focus on work. I did manage to submit a grant proposal to the National Science Foundation and teach a summer course but it was a struggle. I even volunteered to be considered to serve another term as the doctoral program director at UNT, but I am feeling less than competent to continue as a professor due to having such a troubled mind. Retirement is not attractive as that would only increase the amount of time I would be consumed by the troubling states of disarray in this troubled land.

“It takes a worried man to sing a worried song” echoes in my mind. What to do? Eat more ice cream? More watermelon and fried chicken? I grew up in the South. I have lived and worked and spent much time in the North, South, East and West, and in other countries. There seems no escaping the madness that has gripped this troubled land. Where will it lead? How many more will die and be assaulted?

Worse than those concerns is that the madness seems not just prevalent in this troubled land but across the globe. Still, against all odds, there is grit and resilience in Ukraine, hope in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and sanity in New Zealand. But many are fleeing madness in South America and Africa. In spite of isolated instances of humanity, the overall state of the planet might be considered endangered … not just by global climate change but by global intolerance and inhumanity.

A still small voice in a dark cave is asking, when will it end? How will it end? Who can end the madness? The still small voice goes silent.