There's a paradox about war: along with all the terrible things it is, it's a kind of intimacy -- an almost Biblical knowing. A nation or an individual may go to war in a state of ignorance and prejudice, but will come out of it forever changed and married, having swapped a great deal of cultural DNA. Since World War II, not only has Japan been Americanized, but America has become Japanized: karate and karaoke, Zen and sushi, have become a part of our lives. It was veterans of the war in Vietnam, including former POW John McCain and John Kerry, who led the effort to repair our relations with that country. When former enemies become friends, it's almost with the raw emotion of old lovers.
Now, Iraq. No longer far away and alien, the Iraqis have become strangely dear to us. By blundering into their country, liberating and killing them, violating their homes and rebuilding their schools, we have haltingly come to know their intelligence and deep emotion, their amazing courage, their hospitality and pride. Now we are holding our breath as they risk their lives to vote, to grasp the bloody gift we've given them and send us packing. Remorse, respect, fear, hope, kinship and shame -- we are feeling all these things on the eve of their first "free" elections. Would we have the guts to go to the polls at gunpoint?
Nothing else seems to matter right now. We'll be quiet, watching and praying. Holding our breath.
- amba
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