Grist for the Mill

Margaret Atwood, in an article for the Guardian (UK) a couple of years ago, wrote about the impact reading George Orwell's dystopia, Animal Farm, had on her when she was nine years old. She cried her eyes out when Boxer, the beloved horse, had an accident and was taken away to be made into dog food, rather than being given the quiet corner of the pasture he'd long been promised.

The metaphor of meat processing fits so well as imagery for how I see this country of ours (US) during this madness of empire-building. I'm incensed that we continue to send our young men and women to Iraq...someone else's sons and daughters....to kill or be killed. Instead, we should be about the business of keeping our promise - that children in America are free citizens in a democracy, not an empire. Our policies should affirm that their lives mean so much more than oil...so much more than being a slab of meat run through the military industrial meat grinder. It brings to mind Dodge City...Matt Dillon's great Wild West...the 'heartland' of America. Grist for the mill...fodder for the great meat processor. A meat hook on which to hang your dreams.

The introduction to George Orwell's novel describes him as a man with the conviction that man is incapable - inadequate - to cope with the demands of his history. Perhaps that's a big part of the problem. We've studied HIStory. What if women figured much more into our study of our past?...What if societies and individuals truly studied the times of partnership in our past, rather than reflecting on our country's history in the context of war?