Today is Armistice Day, marking the end of
World War I – “the war to end all wars”. But, as the first name I used for it
implies, this war did not accomplish the intended goal since it was followed very
shortly by another one that was even more extensive and destructive. In the 95
years since the signing of that armistice, it seems instead that the world has
been defined by conflict and only rarely interspersed with disappointingly
brief periods of peace.
The march of human history appears to be largely shaped through the footsteps of war. These violent disruptions send societies and individuals lurching and detouring in unplanned directions. Any pre-war settledness turns into a nostalgic memory. Home and habits, places and projects are counted among the victims as much as the numbers of dead and wounded.
Part of my own family’s trajectory was radically changed by the eruption and disruption of war. My Mennonite/farming ancestors were doing what they did best – farming. War in Europe in the 1870’s pushed this community of pacifists to do the unthinkable. They abandoned their land, their farms, their horses and equipment and barns – their known places. They picked up their families and headed into the unknown. Leaving the controllable, tillable earth they risked a difficult voyage over the uncontrollable ocean to find a new place where they would be freed from the threat of the far-away war.
This radical change was a risk that paid off for my great-grandparents who again became farmers, now in the New World with its rich soil but rather harsh climate. But even traveling such a great distance at such great risk was not a guaranteed buffer against the intrusion of war. A few short decades later my grandparents’ world was shaken by the “Great War” in Europe, the “War to end all wars”, a.k.a. World War I only because the following generation – that of my parents – was the one that fought World War II. The destruction of this second conflict was so numbing and devastating that one of its victims was actually the “conflict mentality” that had been fueled and repeated in Europe for generations. Burying this victim led to the formation of the European Union, a co-dependency economic alliance which has actually been effective over the past fifty years as an anti-war buffer in that part of the world.
Just as we think that some form of durable peace has finally arrived, the nature of conflict itself mutates and generates a new one. The POWs of WWII had hardly been released when new ones were being taken on the Korean peninsula. As that geographically limited conflict was ending through a truce, the seeds sown by geo-political discord were again sprouting to create the conflict that would mark my generation: the Viet Nam war.
Whatever the political reasons for waging war, in retrospect they appear to be puny excuses in light of the avalanche of uncontrollable unintended consequences that result from each conflict. The Vietnam War is a glaring example. Beyond the military engagement, it marks the “before” and “after” in American society. The assumed values that had endured since my great-grandparents made their perilous journey were swept away. Just one of the unintended victims. War had again led a society to move in a new direction with its attendant unknowns and new genres of victims.
And now my children’s generation is mired in the longest war in American history. Again the bitter roots can be traced back decades before these children were even born, when the Cold War superpowers were using proxies to fight in ways that let them avoid direct conflagration. Today’s young men and women are the direct victims of those decades-old geo-political decisions with an ever-escalating arms race. We try to control conflict by changing the nature of the battle. Without general conscription in Western countries, the fighting is done by a miniscule part of the population. Set battles have been replaced by small patrols, sleeper-cells and IEDs, suicide vests and drones. The triggering factors are less geo-political and more ideological and ethnic radicalism. If fewer soldiers die, more are maimed – or commit suicide as a result. Psychological destruction has become as rampant as physical destruction. Societies are not just transformed by war on their territory, but completely decimated. Refugees number in the hundreds of thousands or millions. The difference from the conflicts of previous generations is that these new homeless and hopeless have no possibility of ever returning, because there is really nothing to which to return.
This present type of war is not just a reflection of the march of history. It doesn’t have a defined beginning and doesn't end on a certain date followed by a settled period. Such a cycle doesn’t even seem to be thought of as a possibility any more. There is no end in sight. It is a situation to be managed, not resolved. This new type of unending war shows to what extent the human heart really is “desperately wicked and can do no good”.
Sadly, I find no reason to not fear for my grandsons and their generation. When Jesus was asked about the march of human history he said there would be “wars and rumors of wars … nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom”, but he also said that isn’t indicative of any special situation. That’s just how it is. I guess the need for dedicated soldiers will continue.
Today we remember those who served and sacrificed, and we are thankful for them and that there was an Armistice we can commemorate. But our hope is and must continue to be in something more than mankind’s capacity to resolve conflict and end wars through imperfect agreements. From the time of Cain and Abel we have rather proven that we find it quicker and easier to hate and destroy than to build and resolve. Genuine peaceful living requires personal and social humility, moral courage, self-denial, and usually a good bit of time investment. Yes, truly “blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called sons of God.” So, on this day Christians can also remember that peacemaking, on all levels of human relationship, is part of the vocation of those who God adopts into his family and are now known as ‘sons of God’.