Thursday, August 22, 2002
Dale: Who says war never solves anything?
This is from James H. Toner, Professor of International Relations and Military Ethics at the U.S. Air War College in Alabama. He wrote the following in a letter to First Things magazine:
"A number of years ago, while teaching at a university in Vermont, I was invited to join a public affairs panel to discuss just war issues. I soon discovered that I was the sole supporter of that notion, and I was getting much more than I was giving. Indeed, the audience seemed hostile, not only to the concept of just war, but also to me. An elderly man in the rear of the audience stood and said something to the effect that he wanted to support my views on just war; he added that he was a classical musician. I remember thinking to myself that there was one person in the room who agreed with me—and that he was probably a nut. “I want to tell you,” the man continued, “what is the sweetest music I have ever heard.” I was still mentally cringing. “Although I have heard wonderful music thousands of times, the most beautiful was the sound of U.S. Army tanks. You see, they were coming to [the death camp which then held him as a young man], and that sound meant that I would be able to grow up.” The audience and I had the grace to sit in silent reflection for a few moments, and I felt rather like Edward Everett must have at Gettysburg."
This is from James H. Toner, Professor of International Relations and Military Ethics at the U.S. Air War College in Alabama. He wrote the following in a letter to First Things magazine:
"A number of years ago, while teaching at a university in Vermont, I was invited to join a public affairs panel to discuss just war issues. I soon discovered that I was the sole supporter of that notion, and I was getting much more than I was giving. Indeed, the audience seemed hostile, not only to the concept of just war, but also to me. An elderly man in the rear of the audience stood and said something to the effect that he wanted to support my views on just war; he added that he was a classical musician. I remember thinking to myself that there was one person in the room who agreed with me—and that he was probably a nut. “I want to tell you,” the man continued, “what is the sweetest music I have ever heard.” I was still mentally cringing. “Although I have heard wonderful music thousands of times, the most beautiful was the sound of U.S. Army tanks. You see, they were coming to [the death camp which then held him as a young man], and that sound meant that I would be able to grow up.” The audience and I had the grace to sit in silent reflection for a few moments, and I felt rather like Edward Everett must have at Gettysburg."
