Guest Commentary
The 1000th Death in Iraq... and My Moral Rot
by Susan Gardner

Sept. 8, 2004 (apj.us) -- According to Global Security, at some point during last week’s GOP convention, the 1000th U.S. military death in Iraq occurred, and we heard not a word about this death from our governing political party, the one that sent this still anonymous soldier to his or her death. Not a whisper, not a sigh. Not even, sadly, lip service.

This is how we honor the patriotic dead in our country now: in silence. Not respectful silence, but in shamed and inconvenient silence.

Yesterday, we heard that number as official news.

We need to be on our toes.

I assumed the GOP would downplay it, seeing to it that it stayed lost following a news cycle littered with heightened terror alerts, an economic uptick, or -- if necessary -- another hypocritical GOP Christian outed and thrown to the wolves for our salivating public distraction.

Now that the number has been surpassed, those of us against the war will need to continue to stay on top of things, to do our best to make sure the magical-numbered death is reported at the top of the news hour, focused on, analyzed, projected out over years and compared to the escalating death toll in Vietnam.

We will do our part in continuing to draw attention to No. 1000 in order to prevent further deaths, to howl and draw attention to how the "cakewalk" promised has been no cakewalk delivered, to bring our troops safely home and to prevent further Iraqi deaths as well.

I know all this, that there will be a high purpose to trumpeting this symbolic casualty. I know all this and still, I am coming to despise myself.

The fact is on the other end of that number there is, most likely (statistically speaking), a young man, a young man who was -- during the run-up to the Republican convention -- trying to catch some shut-eye or was drinking a beer or was writing a letter home or was shooting the breeze with his fellow soldiers. Or maybe it’s some seasoned vet who was putting in one last tour for his country and couldn’t wait to get home to his wife and his poker buddies and his garden. Or maybe it will be announced as a woman after all, one in the wrong convoy on the wrong road at the wrong time when an IED went off.

Think of it: Last week -- when you were hearing Zell Miller rant or Arnold strut -- there was a living, breathing, hoping, dreaming human being who suddenly ceased to exist. All plans cancelled, all vital signs flat-lined. Gone, forever. Poof.

And safe here at home, I find myself thinking about how the forces of peace can use this death to stop more deaths. I ponder the "best" timing of it for our cause and what important statements can be issued and who should make them and what backdrop would be best for the oratorical upbraiding I want my side to give.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m a grown-up. I know how the world works. For the sake of the cause of peace and justice, we must think politically and strategically to put an end to the destructive madness. I know the manipulation of this casualty will be for a good cause, the best and noblest of all noble causes, in fact: ultimate peace.

But this utilization of the 1000th death will take a toll on me, and I assume on other anti-war activists as well. We’ve needed to learn the art of spinning madly and thinking strategically in order to keep up with the Rove machine. We’re not nearly as good as they are yet, but we’ve come a long way. We’re learning the ropes quickly and I trust we will spin this one with the best of them.

I feel, however, in learning to think this way, I’ve lost a part of my humanity -- arguably the best part of my humanity. I am smelling right now, as I write this, my own moral rot at the same time that I’m plotting how best to turn this inevitable private event, this personal death, into something publicly important, meaningful and politically effective.

So whoever you are -- once breathing, smoking, laughing, drinking, praying, swearing, now no longer existing -- I salute you. I thank you. I mourn you now, ahead of the timely announcement, as deeply and personally as I can. Because the specifics of who you are -- your favorite dessert, what you performed in the junior high talent show, the first girl you kissed -- are soon going to be lost in the media feeding frenzy of what you represent to both ends of the political spectrum, my own included.

May you rest.

In peace.