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January 17, 2007
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January 17, 2007 |
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Editorial Trying hard not to forget Todd Davis, 22, Raymore, Mo.; Jonathon Dozier, 30, Rutherford, Tenn.; Sean Gaul, 29, Reno, Nev.; David Hart, 22, Lake View Terrace, Calif.; Zachary McBride, 20, Bend, Ore.; Ivan Merlo, 19, San Marcos, Calif.; Phillip Pannier, 20, Washburn, Ill.; Matthew Piank, 30, Superior, Wis.; Christopher Sanders, 22, Rosewell, N.M. For the record, these nine names are the American soldiers whose deaths in the Iraq war were confirmed by the Pentagon last Thursday and Friday, according to Sunday’s New York Times. According to the Times, the American death toll now stands at 3,910 service members, 910 more than had died when President Bush announced the “surge” almost exactly a year ago. Whenever I see the “Names of the Dead” column that appears regularly in that paper, I try to read the names out loud. Perhaps others do the same. I try to take a few moments to imagine the short lives of these young men and women, imagine their hometowns and how these deaths have affected those towns. The Times only prints the names of the dead, not of loved ones left behind, so I cannot say the names of these soldiers’ mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, children and friends. The Times also doesn’t print the names of Iraqis who die because, of course, we don’t know them. Actually, Pentagon officials don’t even count them, but some people do. Last week’s Times reported that estimates of Iraqi civilian deaths since the war began range from 48,000 (Iraq Body Count) to 600,000 (Johns Hopkins University). It seems I should be reading these names too, although it would take far longer. It’s astonishing that hundreds of thousands of people have been killed in a war waged by our country and, for most of us, little about the war touches our lives. A year ago, at least we were mad. The Iraq war was the number one reason voters cited in November 2006 for voting Republicans out and Democrats in. It led the news every evening. But now, with our troubled economy, the war has slipped onto the nation’s collective back burner. And now, since the violence in Baghdad is down, people seem to forget that the violence is still there, still killing far too many human beings. There is no end in sight. Perhaps this small ritual of mine seems morbid, or pointless. It seems a bit silly to me. Reading these names does nothing to alter the course of this war. It’s far less effective than, say, writing a letter to my congressman, organizing a rally or standing on Xenia Avenue for the Saturday noon vigil. More than anything, I guess, it makes me feel better. At least I’m taking a few moments from my day, a day in which I encountered no explosive devices or suicide bombers, and no soldiers broke down my front door and ransacked my home. I’m taking a few moments to read the names of the dead. It seems the least I can do.
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