Skip to main content

What Is It Good For? (Absolutely Nothing)

Leaders. Commanders-in-chief. Generals.

Great men.

Great men?

It's a question that I've been pondering a lot recently. Wars have been part of human history since its conception, but the idea still irks me to this day. What is a war, really? At its very core, it's the decision that you're going to take someone else's life for some reason, be it conquest and expansion, or seeking vengeance for some slight, or a number of other equally viable (and ridiculous) issues worth fighting for.

But then, you just have to think about it; the simple man, the smallest unit in an army of thousands, what's his stake in all of this? Is his life even slightly benefited by waging war against his fellow man? Does he even believe in a cause that - most likely - isn't his? It baffles me, how those generals and commanders manage to convince their subordinates to head into a bloody trench, in search of glory that is - by definition - fleeting and momentary. These men-of-war, these fantastical, almost-mythical beings; they are manipulative and deceitful, and they're constantly lauded for how well they do that job. Boggles the mind.

But then, you might come along and say 'No! You fight to be safe! You fight to defend yourself!', and I rightly call you an idiot, for you're missing the point entirely. Your right to self-defense is well preserved, and is not being argued here. The idea is what starts these wars in the first place. Why drag an entire nation into a struggle, a pissing contest, that costs it most of its resources, and - more importantly - youth?

Is humanity really that vain?

Am I so silly as to be expecting an answer to that question that isn't 'of course it is'?

Of course I am.

What is funny (and there is nothing funny about this entire affair) is the fact that human vanity might've started the trend of wars and conquest, but it's greed that keeps this bloodied machine running smoothly. These 'lords of war' here and there, they turn a profit on these little skirmishes, and they're not about to let business dry up.

Is it not magnificent, how human lives are now mere blips that drive cash flows? Congratulations, your much sought-after death is now the reason someone somewhere is buying an arsenal of guns.

And - make no mistake - they will kill you. And they will feel good about it, not because they've defeated their enemy, but because they've validated their exorbitant purchases. It's like that annoying kid who buys an SLR camera, and immediately creates a Facebook page with a shitload of crappy photos, simply to feel good about himself.

You are the crappy photo.

Enjoy your life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In Dreams

This was initially triggered by a six-word suggestion from a fellow Twitter user. Thanks, Amenah. This is also dedicated to Adly , who was one of the first people to encourage me to start this blog, and who's leaving the country soon. You shall be missed! ----------------- You were in my dreams again yesterday. You stood there, clutching that lace umbrella you loved so much. I watch in awe, as you twirl it playfully in your hands, and I can see you’ve painted your nails blue, that brilliant azure color that I’ve always loved so much. I smile, you’ve always had a thing for all things Victorian; you called them regal, austere, beautiful. 

Initial

I may have once been pegged as a writer, but for the longest time now, I’ve been unable to conjure anything worthwhile to write. Perhaps my inner editor has evolved to the extent of being able to strangle my thoughts in their infancy, so that nothing’s left now. It is a thought that scares me, often to the extent of mental paralysis, but it is one worth noting nevertheless. It is for this exact reason that I am writing now, to see if I am still capable of doing so. One might argue that I never had the capability, but people also say that they used to enjoy what I had to say in writing. I will not lie and say that it is for them that I am making these attempts. They are for me. Perhaps it is selfish, perhaps it is narcissistic, and perhaps it is none of these things. I do not know, and I couldn’t care less. So, here I am; writing, ranting, observing, telling, hiding and - perhaps not in the literal sense - speaking. I sometimes feel somewhat pretentious when I write, though my words ar

Existence And Definitions

My existence is a series of questions that I attempt to answer everyday, and the answers never really impress me. I start with the obvious. “What am I?” - that one is easy enough. I am a man, a human being, an assortment of organs linked together by myriad vessels in a body that runs like clockwork. I am a being that is recognized by fellow beings as one of their own, part of a herd, member of the not-so-exclusive club of Humanity. At least, that’s the physical interpretation of my existence. I am okay with that, it is clear and clean-cut, and it’s hard to argue against. It is what I perceive myself as, and it is close enough to what I perceive others as. So, it’s all right. Then you move on to “Who am I?”, and that’s where the problems start; how do you know who you are? Do you define yourself, again, by your physical existence? No, because then you’d lose your individuality, that you fought for so valiantly by popping out of that birth canal, and you just become another