the human cost

a few days ago, after reading an article a friend pointed out, i noticed a report on cnn's website detailing the death of US and coalition forces since the start of the war in iraq. aside from listing the number of casualties [more than 2300 at this point], the 'special report' includes pictures, age, hometown, and other information that puts an actual human face on what these days seems to be no more than just a number.

it was refreshing to see this [i later noticed a similar 'special feature' in the new york times]. one of the things that has been bothering me lately about the death toll in the iraq war, and actually, more generally about the news, is how everything is skimmed over. sure, every once in a while i read an article that seems to present a quasi-thorough analysis of, well, something - - but for the most part, everything i hear/read/see these days is dished out in small, uninformative quantities.

it's a little bit of a catch-22: the advent of TV and especially of the internet let us consume news 24/7 - -therefore, newscasters [journalists, editors, commentators, whatever] feel the need to fill those 24/7 with something new all the time -- even if that something new is the news that ariel sharon, incapacitated after his january 4th stroke, just moved his left pinky 3/4 of an inch. we have the ability to learn something new whenever we want, so the people providing us with information inundate us with mundane pieces of trivia to satisfy us. that makes people feel like they 'know what is going on in the world,' although the sad truth is that things are so much more complicated than almost any cnn- or fox- or even bbc-viewing individual can fathom.

but, i digress. the reason this CNN report is interesting is because it requires its readers to think a little bit beyond the 'soundbyte,' this is true. but more importantly, it requires readers to think beyond the abstract concept of 'war fatalities.' over the past few years the number of deaths we've heard about - iraqi, afghan, sri lankan, pakistani, american - is so staggering that it's hard to remember that each one is a human being, more than just a statistic in the headlines.

in any case, looking at the CNN website reminded me of something i wrote several months back, after volunteering at the american friends service committee's eyes wide open exhibit when it came to new york this past october. i've posted it below...

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i want to tell you about the human cost of war.

it's at the cathedral of st. john the divine, at 110th and amsterdam in manhattan. it comes in the form of boots - 1959 pairs of boots, one for each of the 1959 military personnel who have thus far lost their lives in iraq. and it comes in the form of shoes - hundreds of pairs of shoes snaking through the knave in a labyrinth, symbolizing the lives of iraqi civilians whose lives were lost since march 2003. boots and shoes lined up against the backdrop of the city's largest gothic cathedral and a quiet place of worship and reflection.

i spent three hours at st. john's yesterday as a docent, answering questions for visitors who came by to see this american friends service committee exhibit, appropriately titled "eyes wide open." before my shift started, and over the course of the afternoon, i walked slowly through the rows of boots and shoes. i stood at the front of the knave and looked back towards the opening of the cathedral and saw a sea of black: 1959 pairs of boots [though didn't it say 1957 when i first arrived? is it actually possible that two pairs were added in the 3 hours i was there?]. as i walked through the exhibit the mass of black turned into individual pairs, each distinguished by a name tag giving rank, name [except in cases where labeled "name removed at the request of the family"], age and home state of the fallen soldier. black boots, brown desert combat boots, men and women's - lined up in row after row, filling the cathedral from back to front. as i walked through the rows, i saw additional distinctions marking each individual - a flower left in one pair of boots, a peurto rican flag in another, a small horse tied to the front of one north carolina boot. pictures, momentos, programs from memorial services, letters to and from the fallen soldier. one, written by wesley c. fottenbery of texas [38 at his time of death]: "i hope they have their hearts in the right place," he wrote after one particularly excruciating rescue mission, "because this is just all too much."

a note left on a colorado boot: "all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing - sir edmund burke." a veterans for peace button on another boot further down the line. and a poignant letter written just 5 days ago to a soldier in madison, WI: "mark, this is so hard. we were supposed to be catching up, running into each other at a bar in madison. i know we lost touch, but you were supposed to still be out there, somewhere."

names and ages: 18, 31, 23, 20. jeff lucey of MA, who committed suicide several months after his return to the states, and whose parents spoke out against the lack of proper treatment he and other soldiers received. 15 pairs of boots on a table, donated by families who wanted their sons' actual boots to travel the country and shout out to all that there is a human cost to this war far beyond what the media shows us every day [the rest of the boots have been donated by army/navy surplus stores]. and 5 pairs of boots, placed at the end of the last row, each of which holds a tag stating "soldier's name not yet released."

poignant, mesmerizing, and truly a way to open eyes. one woman came up to me as though she had a question to ask - then abruptly turned away, saying only, "my heart is full, i cannot speak." i was told of a woman who had visited the exhibit previously, found her daughter's boots, turned to the staff member nearby and said, "you have to switch these boots. my daughter never would have worn boots this large." a mother and daughter came in - the mother and grandmother of a soldier who has, thankfully, returned home safely to seattle from his tour in iraq. "i'm glad he and his wife aren't here right now," his mother stated. "he saw it enough there."

i stood watching, as names of the dead were read out. as she began reading out names, paula, the mother of an enlisted marine and a member of 'military parents speak out,' briefly lost control and her voice cracked. was she thinking, only due to serendipity is it the case that her son's name wasn't being read? or did it occur to her, as it did to me, that six hours - the length of time needed to read through the names of the soldiers and through only a small part of the iraqi civilian names - is too much, that reading anything at all is already too much?

after 3 hours, i left the exhibit, walked into the grey NY evening. for some reason, the simon and garfunkel song "7pm news/silent night" came into my head. do you know it? a quiet rendition of "silent night" put to the background of a newscaster reading that day's news - full of war updates from vietnam. as i left st. john's last night the song strangely mirrored my own senses as i walked through the streets. i passed through the laughter, music, and languages of NY, wondering- behind the music i heard, who among these people is part of that human cost of war - the cousin, parent, child, friend, neighbor of one of the 1959 soldiers killed? because that's what the human cost is - it's not just the soldier killed in combat or in training or due to emotional/physical/mental stress endured in iraq. it's the person, the individual who leaves behind not only a life left unfilled but family, friends, teachers, mentors and admirers with a space missing in their hearts. it's future lives lost and past lives left without someone to remember them years down the line. it's not a worthwhile cost, is it?

and yet - it's hard to grasp, to make real. even as i was among the boots and shoes yesterday it was difficult for me to truly comprehend the depth, the breadth of the loss that is felt. and it's difficult to take the time to think about what this cost really means, especially as we all go about our daily lives, for the most part unaffected, hoping without really knowing we're hoping that the loss doesn't hit close to home.

i know i'm no different. i don't think about these losses every day - over the past 5 years, as i've watched lives being lost all across the middle east through random acts of violence, revenge, war and its aftermath, i've become jaded, shielded somewhat so that every name i heard doesn't send pain shooting through my heart. still, i felt chills all afternoon. maybe i regained some sense of emotional reaction to something i've become accustomed to seeing as only statistics, for a few hours at least. in some ways that's good. though it's important to find a balance, of course - otherwise it would be impossible to function daily. i imagine the soldiers would all agree with me on that.

and writing this? i don't think i'm headed towards a particular point. it's been a day since i was there, and though i found that balance and went on to think about other things, just envisioning the knave - the boots and shoes - throws me off yet again. i write this to try to pass that feeling along, spread it outward, make the human cost real for everyone, not just those fortunate enough to be able to see this exhibit with their own eyes. perhaps it's a small first step towards making sure that the cost doesn't rise.