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Few human activities are more popular than war, and yet the negative consequences of actual battle, with its inevitable atrocities, often are very high. Therefore when the philosopher William James hit on the idea in 1906 that there could be a moral equivalent of war, conflicted fans of military action could be forgiven for hoping that a solution to their quandary would soon be at hand.
Alas, our attempts to find such an equivalent have thus far met with poor results. The War on Poverty, launched by Lyndon Johnson as an alternative to the War on Vietnam, was officially ended in 1996 by Bill Clinton, who claimed that it was not moral after all. The War on Drugs, which seemed more promising, has had the unfortunate side effect of gathering a significant number of Americans into prisons, where immoral behavior is known to breed. And the War on Terror seems too much like a real war to be considered an “equivalent,” moral or otherwise.
But there is another way, one that is often discussed this time of year. Indeed, the War on Christmas may at last be the perfect Jamesian war. On the pro-Christmas side we have television commentators, Christians, the military-industrial complex, and all children everywhere. On the anti-Christmas side we have no one at all. Here is a war that can be fought forever, and with few or possibly even no casualties. What better way to celebrate Christ’s message of peace?
Would such a war require sacrifice? Not necessarily. James predicted that, “The war against war is going to be no holiday excursion or camping party.” And that may have been true a century ago. But America has progressed considerably. Christmas already provides an appealing set of symbols around which the people could rally, and it is well situated to surpass military spending as an economic organizing principle. With just a little effort, we could achieve the peace that endureth for a war that will never end.
And so a proposal:
What if congressional Democrats joined congressional Republicans to reclaim their constitutional right to declare war? That great body has already passed a resolution acknowledging “the international religious and historical importance of Christmas and the Christian faith.” Why not take it a step further and bring America into this enduring battle on the side of Santa and Wal-Mart? Would this not exemplify the kind of visionary bipartisanship our pundits have so long desired?
And would our president dare refuse to act on such a declaration? In many ways, the War on Christmas would be the culmination of the Bushian project. Indeed, it has been foretold in the very book from which many holiday worshipers draw their tradition. “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb,” reports Isaiah, “and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.”
More from Luke Mitchell:
For the past three years my dosimeter had sat silently on a narrow shelf just inside the door of a house in Tokyo, upticking its final digit every twenty-four hours by one or two, the increase never failing — for radiation is the ruthless companion of time. Wherever we are, radiation finds and damages us, at best imperceptibly. During those three years, my American neighbors had lost sight of the accident at Fukushima. In March 2011, a tsunami had killed hundreds, or thousands; yes, they remembered that. Several also recollected the earthquake that caused it, but as for the hydrogen explosion and containment breach at Nuclear Plant No. 1, that must have been fixed by now — for its effluents no longer shone forth from our national news. Meanwhile, my dosimeter increased its figure, one or two digits per day, more or less as it would have in San Francisco — well, a trifle more, actually. And in Tokyo, as in San Francisco, people went about their business, except on Friday nights, when the stretch between the Kasumigaseki and Kokkai-Gijido-mae subway stations — half a dozen blocks of sidewalk, which commenced at an antinuclear tent that had already been on this spot for more than 900 days and ended at the prime minister’s lair — became a dim and feeble carnival of pamphleteers and Fukushima refugees peddling handicrafts.
One Friday evening, the refugees’ half of the sidewalk was demarcated by police barriers, and a line of officers slouched at ease in the street, some with yellow bullhorns hanging from their necks. At the very end of the street, where the National Diet glowed white and strange behind other buildings, a policeman set up a microphone, then deployed a small video camera in the direction of the muscular young people in drums against fascists jackets who now, at six-thirty sharp, began chanting: “We don’t need nuclear energy! Stop nuclear power plants! Stop them, stop them, stop them! No restart! No restart!” The police assumed a stiffer stance; the drumming and chanting were almost uncomfortably loud. Commuters hurried past along the open space between the police and the protesters, staring straight ahead, covering their ears. Finally, a fellow in a shabby sweater appeared, and murmured along with the chants as he rounded the corner. He was the only one who seemed to sympathize; few others reacted at all.
Number of U.S. congressional districts in which trade with China has produced more jobs than it has cost:
Young bilingual children who learned one language first are likelier than monolingual children and bilingual children who learned languages simultaneously to say that a dog adopted by owls will hoot.
An Oklahoma legislative committee voted to defund Advanced Placement U.S. History courses, accusing the curriculum of portraying the United States as “a nation of oppressors and exploiters.”
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“He could be one of a million beach-bound, black-socked Florida retirees, not the man who, by some odd happenstance of life, possesses the brain of Albert Einstein — literally cut it out of the dead scientist's head.”