Argument for response doesn’t pass muster

My dad wasn’t there when I was born. In fact, I was almost a year old by the time he saw me for the first time.

Instead of being at the hospital, he was several thousand miles away in a little Southeast Asian country where the United States was fighting an enemy who had never attacked us, never even threatened us. But we were told we were fighting on behalf of those who wanted democracy. We were told the fight in Vietnam was vital to our own national security. Yeah, sure it was. I’m just glad my father made it home. I wonder how many other children were born the same day I was who never got to see their father.

Flash forward a few years. My little brother, John, is very dear to me. He was my youngest brother and I was just crazy about him when we were growing up. I’m very proud of him for several reasons, but what stands out these days is the pride I have for him for his service to his country. John is more than 10 years younger, and I still remember the day he sat in my living room shortly after he graduated high school telling me he was considering joining the military.

He said if he joined, he wanted to “go all the way.” Whenever John set his mind to something, he was fiercely dedicated. By the time he graduated high school, he was very skilled in Wushu kung-fu and Capoeira. So now he wanted to join the U.S. Marines. Just like I did with my children, I remained impartial to the various branches, but told him he should do a little more homework. Contrary to the commercials, Marines don’t climb mountains and slay dragons with a sword once they reach the top. All branches of the military have their elite forces. And so we talked to a recruiter together and shortly thereafter, John joined the Army and was fast-tracked to become a Ranger (at which he also excelled).

John served eight years as a Ranger, and frankly, I’ve lost track of the number of combat tours he did in both Iraq and Afghanistan. During those years he did and saw some amazing things. John was an exceptional soldier among exceptional soldiers, and he lost friends. Like my father, I’m thrilled he made it out in one piece. He was offered a stunning amount of money to re-enlist and I recall being shocked that he didn’t take it. But after some more thought I realized that there isn’t any amount of money that can make it worth getting shot at … often.

And so it was with my father and John in mind that I tuned in to watch the president state his case for bombing Syria the other night. I did my best to be open and impartial because I was sincerely hoping he would say something convincing. I was very against the idea of yet again sending the U.S. military to some remote, small country that hadn’t threatened us (and, again, in the “interests of national security.”) By the end of his speech, I was more dead-set against the idea than ever.

President Obama says we have an obligation to intervene in Syria because Assad used gas to kill around 1,000 people, some of them children. I agree that’s horrible, but like many Americans, I’m not convinced we know for a fact that it was Assad and not “the opposition,” as the President calls them. More importantly (to me), that argument isn’t consistent. North Korea’s death camps have killed several hundreds of thousands during the past decades, including newborn babies, children and the elderly. Are we going to bomb North Korea too? Or am I to understand that chemical weapons killing 1,000 is unacceptable to the U.S., but the torture and killing of several hundred thousand by gunfire, starvation, strangulation, electricity, trained dogs, forced bloodsports, drowning and every other method a sick human mind can create isn’t so bothersome?

Which brings me to President Obama’s promise that the we are “not the world police.” Really? Then please explain to me our involvement in Korea, Vietnam, Libya and Egypt? Our nation-building in Iraq and Afghanistan? Oh wait, that’s right; it’s in the interests of our “national security.” I guess that’s a neat, off-the-shelf, ready-to-use excuse that can be applied to everything. It’s like a poacher who always says the animal was “coming right at me” when he shot it. That’s the part of the speech where I actually had to chuckle and let out an “oh, please!”

It was only a matter of months ago that we were being told by several people within our government, including John Kerry, that those fighting the Syrian government were al-Qaida. Then last week, Kerry does a switcheroo and says there is “no proof” any members of those fighting Assad were al-Qaida sympathizers.

Finally, during his speech, Obama did the in-between and said that “only a small number” of the “opposition” was “possibly” fighting for al-Qaida. Geez guys, which is it? Considering that the BBC and several other news sources seem to have no problem reporting on the (ahem) “rebels” doing such things as dismembering Christians and burning villages, I think I know. Only a few months ago a 15-year old boy was beaten and had his throat slit by these “rebels” in front of his family for daring to say he wouldn’t serve coffee to a man “even if he were Mohammad.” Gee, what great people. Let’s jump right in, blow a few billion taxpayer dollars to help them out.

Americans love to hear of patriotic, freedom-loving rebels fighting against tyranny. It’s how our country was born and we have this built-in desire to look at any group fighting an oppressive government like our own fight for independence. But what about when intolerant, oppressive Group A is fighting intolerant, oppressive Group B?

We shouldn’t be sending missiles. We should be eating popcorn and standing by while they duke it out. Look at it as a win/win. But no more planes, no more bombs, no more meddling. And for God’s sake, no more troops. Yes, I heard Obama and Kerry say “no boots on the ground,” but I read my history and I seem to recall the country once being told that “only a few teams of military advisors will be sent to Vietnam” — the same place my father, along with several thousand other soldiers, was in 1971 when I was born six years later.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column as “Compton’s Corner,” the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist.