So it's the fifth anniversary of the day that George Bush, with the acquiescence of a Republican Congress and a Fourth Estate that is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Republican Party, took my country to war against Iraq -- a country that never did anything to my country. I've tried all day to think what I could say about this war that hasn't been said.
I could say that it is immoral, as all wars are immoral. I could say that it is illegal, as it quite clearly is, and that nothing in the shameful resolution authorizing Bush to "use force" legalized it. I could say that, like all wars, it has caused untold human suffering and that much of that suffering has been inflicted on women and children and young men who were completely innocent. I could say that, like all wars, this war has been fought by the poor and the poorly-educated and has profited the already-rich and the powerful. I could say that this war, like all wars, has caused grievous harm to the Earth, which is already harmed almost unto death. I could say that this war, like all wars, has created and will continue to create many more problems than it will "solve" -- not that there was ever even a problem for this war to "solve" anywhere outside of George Bush's Oedipally -twisted morass of a soul.
But I think that what I will say is that this war, like all wars, is a symptom of a larger problem. This war, like all wars, would be impossible to imagine in a culture that actually valued life, women, children, the Earth, consensus, negotiation, nonviolence, diversity, empathy, sustainability, and the rule of law over the power of might. In short, this war is a symptom of patriarchy, of what Riane Eisler called the Culture of the Blade, rather than the Culture of the Chalice. And I will say that, until we address the root cause, we may end this war, or run out of credit to finance it, but my children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren will have to be out in the streets, marching to end future wars as I've marched to end this one.
Which is one reason why I undermine the patriarchy every chance I get. I get a lot of chances. We all do. Let's use them.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."