Five Years
Today marks the fifth anniversary of the start of the Iraq War. I bet George W. Bush feels like such a big man, that he was able to have his very own war, just like Daddy.
Was it worth it, Mr. President?
The nearly 4,000 dead U.S. servicemembers?
The tens of thousands more injured, both physically and mentally?
The more than 100,000 dead Iraqis?
The millions of displaced Iraqis?
The inflammation of centuries-old sectarian violence?
The awakening of a new, worldwide anti-Americanism?
The lies, torture, and various other criminal acts?
The pain, suffering, and death that has resulted and will continue to result from your misadventure in the desert?
Was all of this worth it?
I consider myself lucky that my friends and family members that have been sent to Iraq, some multiple times, have all come home alive. But what about tomorrow? Or next week? Or next year? I may yet have to deal with the loss that so many others have known these last five years. But one thing is certain: you never will.
It is clear from your words and actions that this war and its consequences have not had any effect on you. You speak of war as if you were watching a movie, then smirk and make jokes. This war has not touched you, nor will it ever touch you. You are not only disconnected from the American citizenry and its fighting forces, you are disconnected from reality. Wouldn’t it have been a lot easier, not to mention far less expensive, to just buy yourself a game of Risk, and pretend you were a leader that way?
You started a war in an effort to create a legacy of leadership for yourself; then when things went south, as you had been told they would, you left it to fester and degenerate while you run out the clock and leave the mess for someone else to deal with. You are the equivalent of the punk kid that stirs up the hornets’ nest in the neighbor’s yard, then walks away to let others get stung. I am thankful that there are but ten months remaining in your term. The problem is, the situation you will leave to the next president will be so atrocious as to prevent any meaningful scaling back of our forces in the short run. Our troops will continue to lose their limbs, minds, and lives long after you’ve stopped playing war, and returned to playing cowboy on your ranch in Texas.
You, and the cult of personality that surrounds and supports you, are not fit to lead those you so cavalierly sent to the desert to sweat and bleed and die. Congratulations, Mr. President. Your baby just turned five.
