The Globe & Mail      September 14, 2001
 
 War Isn't A Game After All
 
      by Naomi Klein
 
 Now is the time in the game of war when we dehumanize our enemies.
 
 They are incomprehensible, their acts unimaginable, their motivations  
senseless. They are "madmen," their states are "rogue." Now is not the  
time for understanding -- just better intelligence.
 
 These are the rules of the war game.
 
 But war is not a game. It is real lives ripped in half; it is lost 
sons,  daughters, mothers and fathers. Perhaps Sept. 11, 2001, will 
mark the end  of the shameful era of the video-game war.
 
 Watching the coverage this week was a stark contrast to the last time 
I  sat glued to a television set watching a real-time war on CNN. The 
Space  Invader battlefield of the Persian Gulf war had almost nothing 
in common  with the destruction of Manhatten. Back then, we saw only 
sterile  bomb's-eye views of concrete targets -- there, and then gone. 
Who was in  those abstract polygons? We never found out.
 
 Since the gulf war, U.S. foreign policy has been based on a single 
brutal
 fiction: that the U.S. military can intervene in conflicts around the
 world -- in Iraq, Kosovo, Afghanistan -- without suffering any U.S.
 casualties. This is a country that believed in the ultimate oxymoron: a
 safe war.
 
 The safe-war logic is, of course, based on the technological ability 
to  wage a war exclusively from the air. But it also relies on the 
deep  conviction that no one would dare mess with the U.S. -- the one 
remaining  superpower -- on its own soil.
 
 This conviction allowed Americans to remain blithely unaffected by -- 
even  uninterested in -- international conflicts in which they are key  
protagonists. Americans don't get daily coverage on CNN of the ongoing  
bombings in Iraq, nor are they treated to human-interest stories on 
the  devastating effects of economic sanctions on that country's 
children.  After the 1998 bombing of a pharmaceutical factory in Sudan 
(mistaken for  a chemical weapons facility), there weren't too many 
follow-up reports  about what the loss of vaccine manufacturing did to 
disease prevention in  the region.
 
 And when NATO bombed civilian targets in Yugoslavia -- markets, 
hospitals,  refugee convoys, passenger trains, and a TV station -- NBC 
didn't do  "streeter" interviews with survivors about how shocked they 
were by the  indiscriminate destruction.
 
 The United States is expert in the art of sanitizing and dehumanizing 
acts  of war committed elsewhere. No wonder Tuesday's attacks seemed 
to many  Americans to have come less from another country than another 
planet. The  events were reported not so much by journalists as by the 
new breed of  brand-name celebrity anchors who have made countless 
cameos in Time Warner  movies about apocalyptic terrorist attacks on 
the United States -- now,  incongruously reporting the real thing.
 
 The United States is a country that believed itself not just at peace 
but  war-proof, a self-perception that would come as quite a surprise 
to most  Iraqis, Palestinians and Colombians. Like an amnesiac, the 
U.S. has  awakened in the middle of a war, only to find out it has 
been going on for  years.
 
 Did the United States deserve to be attacked? Of course not. But 
there's a  different question that must be asked: Did U.S. foreign 
policy create the  conditions in which such twisted logic could 
flourish, a war not so much  on U.S. imperialism but on perceived U.S. 
imperviousness?
 
 The era of the video-game war in which the U.S. is at the controls 
has  produced a blinding rage in many parts of the world, a rage at 
the  persistent asymmetry of suffering. This is the context in which 
twisted  revenge-seekers make no other demand than that U.S. citizens 
share their  pain.
 
 A blinking message is up on our collective video-game console: game 
over.
 


                                   Serbian News Network - SNN

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