Going Beyond "Gone but Not Forgotten"

To truly honor those lost to war, I must practice the freedom they died hoping to defend

July 23rd is the anniversary of the death of someone whose memory I keep despite knowing him for only a short time. I spent most of the day thinking of him, and in every impression of him I have he is young and handsome and humorous with untold potential for happiness. If he had survived, I imagine he would have had a wife and children, traveled, grown old, died fulfilled. I suppose this is the romanticized version of a life I project on to him having never had the opportunity to know him better, instead knowing only that he was killed fighting an unjust war which ended in abysmal atrocity and that all of these possibilities died along with him.

Having many friends who were in ROTC while particularly dangerous deployments to the middle east were common, I think back now thankful that not more of them were killed, and quite sad that Jonam was. I wonder if he knew, truly knew, what he had agreed to take upon himself at such a young age. Looking back on it all now, he and all the rest in his graduating class were but children in spirit. Capable, yes, but baby-faced and so lacking in experience nonetheless. Did he know, did he - in his mere twenty-five years of life, at least five of which were spent training tirelessly to do the thing that ended up killing him - have any time to internalize that America is not just a country, but an idea whose defense need not be intrusively violent?

I am nearly certain Jonam was unfamiliar with the multitude of shameless ways the idea of America is threatened with every defense contract written. He was as ripe for the picking by the hand of unfeeling war profiteers as countless others whose lives were spent doing what they earnestly believed to be necessary to preserve the free world.

Had he the time to mature, find love, let his philosophy on war and peace develop, to shed the velvet from his antlers somewhere outside the rigor of combat training and compromised institutions, might he have altogether declined to provide instructions for what to do with his remains a mere lap or two around the sun after he was eligible to buy his own beer? What would Jonam and the thousands like him have decided to do if they had just known a bit more about the harsh realities of war? I suspect, at the very least, he would have died decades later than he did.

Borrowing from the great Brandon Sanderson, "A hero does not choose her trials. She just steps into the darkness, then she faces what comes next." The future is unknowable, but I believe in moving forward, one purposeful step at a time, with the hope of reaching a better place. Whether or not Jonam’s sacrifice was made under false pretenses is of great importance with respect to finding the truth, but is of little importance to me as I remember him on a personal level. He believed he was fighting for freedom, for me. He stepped into the darkness and dutifully faced what came next. And for the willingness to do that, I consider him a hero.

Strong emotions make people easier to manipulate. For this reason, if there is any hope of preventing the reoccurrence of past tragedies, it is imperative to parse out the kind of feelings that tend to arise when contemplating the millions of civilians and warfighters alike that have been wasted by the military industrial complex from the temperate evaluation of information that will help shape paradigms based on reality rather than propaganda. There is a time for raising a glass filled to the brim with amber scotch and exchanging heart-wrenching and humorous memories and singing songs, and there is a time for rational sobriety to take the reigns and guide purposeful action on the path of peace and virtue.

And so, I ask myself: how can I honor the fallen - from formidable Soldier to innocent child - without succumbing to the same fearful or tearful state that shrouds judgement and leads to even greater strife?

For me, the answer is to practice freedom peacefully.

I have to resist the urge to push all the ugliness of the world to the periphery and pretend it will go away on its own or with enough effort by someone else as I cheer from the bleachers. Honoring the memory of the fallen means more than simply recalling their faces or reciting their names once a year or whenever it feels convenient or necessary to stoke a positive self-image. It means being free. Free to speak my mind. Free to think differently. Free to pursue happiness and property. It is the freedom to reject consequentialism in the name of doing what is right. In the words of yet another brave Soldier, “I had the capability, so I had the responsibility.”

I do not have all the answers. And despite being someone who hopes to always have the courage to step into the darkness, whether I truly prove to be a hero in the lives of those most important to me seems like it will depend also on the manner in which I face what comes next. Will I turn and run? Or will I go on relentlessly carrying the torch?

The general rule is that no one ever wishes for war to come crashing down on their doorstep. And when it comes, it is not always so obvious how the average person can hope to survive with their preferred way of life in tact. All the time I happily spend with my family, immersed in the beauty of music and literature and nature, honing a skillset, pursuing physical excellence, exploring a wide range of philosophical thought, and daring just a blade’s edge of dangerous fun does not superficially appear to play any role in the war for freedom currently upon us Westerners whether we would wish it or not. But on closer inspection it becomes clear that all endeavors to enhance resilience contribute to peace and the advancement of reason and freedom. Even when I am in a state of flow doing something that seems completely self-serving - working on my pet projects, going on a long ruck - I usually exit this state with the understanding that I had been in it to increase my resilience. And resilient people are free people. They cultivate worlds worthy of the existence of innocent children and their children after them. And I sincerely believe that one of the best ways I can hope to encourage others to practice freedom begins with being resilient enough to do so myself.

Every small step in the journey toward peace is an important one. Simply remembering the fallen is a fine cause, but without deliberately, peacefully, and legally exercising one’s freedoms every day, the very essence of their lives, their sacrifice, and the condition of freedom to which all living things are born will be forgotten. It will fade into a lifeless version of itself, buried deep within some obscure and secret place within the open-air prison all of humanity but the self-appointed dictatorial few will endure.

Let the fallen rest in peace. Let the rest of us labor for it. Put the sacred duty of practicing your freedoms on your shoulders at every opportunity available to you, and never stop rucking.

Thanks for rucking with me. Please enjoy the music as you exit.