"It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.”
— Oscar Wilde
As long as there have been wars, there have been spectators watching reflections of their projections onto the mayhem and havoc.
For instance, think of the first land battle of the bloodiest war in American history. Depending on one’s perspective, this inaugural clash would come to be called by completely different names (as would the whole bloody war).
Some call it “Manassas.” Others “Bull Run.”
Yet, it also goes by a third name.
As recounted by the Senate Historical Office:
On the morning of July 21, 1861, civilians from Washington rode out to Centreville, Virginia, to watch a Union army made up of very green recruits—they signed up for a 90-day war—march boldly into combat. Men, women, and even children came to witness the predicted Union victory, bringing along picnic baskets and opera glasses. Bull Run soon became known as the ‘picnic battle.’ Among the civilian ranks were some of Congress's most powerful senators—many of whom had called for just such a campaign. They quickly learned that war can be unpredictable.
The Union army performed well that morning, but by early afternoon the Confederates had brought in reinforcements, forcing an intense battle over a space known as Henry Hill. When Union generals finally called retreat around 4:00 p.m., the frightened soldiers fled for their lives. ‘I saw the 12th New York regiment rush pell-mell out of the wood,’ commented one reporter. Soldiers threw down their weapons and ran from the battlefield, sweeping up civilians in the retreat.
Near the battlefield, a group of senators was eating lunch. They heard a loud noise and looked around to see the road filled with soldiers, horses, and wagons—all headed in the wrong direction. ‘Turn back, turn back, we're whipped,’ Union soldiers cried as they ran past the spectators. Startled, Michigan senator Zachariah Chandler tried to block the road to stop the retreat. Senator Ben Wade of Ohio, sensing a disastrous defeat, picked up a discarded rifle and threatened to shoot any soldier who ran. While Senator Henry Wilson distributed sandwiches, a Confederate shell destroyed his buggy, forcing him to escape on a stray mule. Iowa senator James Grimes barely avoided capture and vowed never to go near another battlefield.
Senators returned to Washington ‘with gloomy faces,’ noted one reporter, where they delivered eyewitness accounts to a stunned President Lincoln. Only one member of Congress, New York representative Alfred Ely, made it to Richmond that day—as a prisoner of war. The Union army's defeat at Bull Run shocked and sobered members of Congress, making it painfully clear that the war would last much longer than 90 days and be harder fought than anyone had expected. It certainly would be no picnic.
One need not be much of a history buff to surmise that different names sticking to the very same conflict is a phenomenon found riddled throughout the history of the art of war – a phenomenon certainly true of the wars between modern-day Israel and the Muslim world.
Recall that what Israel calls their “War of Independence,” the Muslim world calls the “Nakba,” meaning “the catastrophe.” Same war, same multi-faceted mirror, different reflections from different projections.
Now, as I sit here with my own aloof perspective and witness the fast then slow flow of the headlines and videos coming out of Persia and the Holy Land, I wonder how many names will eventually be given to this latest war between Israel and Iran.
No doubt, it is much too early to know with any certainty what those names might be, but if the fighting carries on for too long, it may very well trip more belligerents into the fray – into what some doomsayers and anti-war spectators are already squawking about as “World War III.”
Again, it is still much too early to tell if these WWIII worrywarts will be proven wise – let us hope they are fools! But I suspect it would be even more foolish to treat this thing like a picnic.
Better to be a worrywart over war than a picnic spectator, I suppose. Alas, some U.S. senators haven’t seemed to learn the lessons of their own body’s history.
I can particularly picture Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) with his opera glasses, handing out sandwiches (or something like that) to his fellow cocksure senatorial colleagues, saying “game on” as Israeli bombs began falling on Iran.
At least the senator and his friends had the decency to call for prayers, though they were not necessarily prayers for peace.
Indeed, as a mere spectator to this latest war, I would much rather project prayers of peace onto the scene than encourage a picture of carnage to reflect back on me. I’ll leave it to the belligerents to pray for victory and for the God of Abraham to answer accordingly.
Joey Clark is a native Alabamian and is currently the host of the radio program News and Views on News Talk 93.1 FM WACV out of Montgomery, AL, M-F 12 p.m. - 3 p.m. His column appears every Tuesday in 1819 News. To contact Joey for media or speaking appearances, as well as any feedback, please email [email protected]. Follow him on X @TheJoeyClark or watch the radio show livestream.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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