MUST WE ALWAYS BE LINKED IN?

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

I don't like telephones. If I'm not expecting a call, I can't stand it when the phone rings. Basically, I don't like interruptions. I like focusing on things. I like dedicating my energy fully to a project and getting it done as well as I can. When some fool calls me about new cable service or a municipal election, it breaks my concentration. I don't like small talk, either. I don't like reporting what "I've been doing lately," "how things are going with me," "what I'm doing this weekend" or "how the job search is turning out." I would just rather read and write in peace.

Telephones used to terrorize me in law practice. My bosses expected me to be on the phone all the time: Call the client; call opposing counsel; call me; call your colleague; call the court; call the expert; call the printing service. All meaningless, vacuous, unstimulating calls. Either that or confrontations over the phone: "Give us the documents...no. Get this done now...no. I'm going to sanction you for this...go ahead; see if I care." Nasty, nasty shit.

Telephones allow people to attend to business without "actually being there." In many ways, this is advantageous. But when people try to do too much every day, they abuse the telephone. It gets ridiculous when you make and take 1000 calls a day trying to get everything accomplished from afar. I mean, how much can you really do over a phone line? Good old-fashioned face-to-face contact is a gravely underestimated commodity these days. I think excessive telephone use cheapens human exchange. And telephones cause unreal stress when abused. You can run away from a person. But you can't run from a person with a phone. In a word, telephones can take away your peace if you let them.

And I'm just talking about regular land lines. Cell phones made matters worse. As hard as it is to field phone calls from behind a desk, in the old days at least you could go home and escape the dreaded rings. Once you left the office, the phone could ring all it wanted; you couldn't hear it. As recently as the early 1990s, people had more peace in their lives because they didn't carry their phones with them everywhere they went. Now, everyone and their brother has a cell phone. You can't escape your phone now, even if you want to. Even you leave your house for a moment to buy a gallon of milk, someone can ring your cell phone. You are always on call. You must answer. How can you experience peace if you're worried about who might call you every minute?

American society is obsessed with contact. People don't want to be isolated from others even for an instant. They need to know what others are doing all the time. They need to reach them at any moment. While this might yield some "real-time" benefits, I argue that our society's obsession with constant communicative contact makes it more difficult to find peace than it was only 20 years ago. Some call me an "old soul" because I shut myself in a room for several hours every morning and pull the phone line out of the wall. But I just want some peace. I like the idea that I have time to myself each day when no one can reach me, even in an emergency. If something horrible happens, I'll find out about it when I'm ready. Yet in most cases, if someone calls me, it won't be an emergency. It will be a sales call or a pollster. Screw them. I don't want to hear it. Thank God for caller ID.

I understand that I am a mighty rare bird. I have always relished outdated communicative means. I write handwritten notes. I like meeting people in person. I like face-to-face conversations. I embrace technology to the extent that it makes my daily routine easier. But I do not dive headlong into real-time contact with everyone all the time. I joined Facebook mainly as a free forum for my writing and to learn about old friends. I've had a cell phone since 2000 because sometimes I need to let people know where I am. But I don't update my status every 20 seconds, nor do I make random calls to everyone in my contacts folder. No, I want peace.

I just can't understand why so many people want to know "what's going on with everyone" all the time. For example, I cannot ride the elevator in my apartment building without seeing some well-dressed woman on a mobile device furiously typing something. Strangely, it's always a woman, and always white. I see them on the weekends, early in the morning, at night, in the evening, you name it. What are they writing about? Why? To whom? It can't just be about work: You don't write work emails at 11 PM on Saturday, do you? I can't figure it out, but that's because I'm Balthazar Oesterhoudt, an antiquated man who likes reading, peace and quiet. Can someone tell me what these women are scribbling? What the hell is so important? Can't it wait until they get where they're going? Why couldn't they write the message before leaving the apartment? Why try to do four things at once? These questions perplex me; and they make me question my place in this linked-in society: Do I even belong in this century?

Friedrich Nietzsche wrote a polemic called "Uncontemporary Observations." He dared to criticize beliefs and trends that most people in his day simply assumed to be valid. I continue that tradition. I do not like this linked-in society and I find it quite disturbing. I like privacy. More and more, our society willingly cedes its privacy in order to "let everyone else know what's going on with us all the time." Sadly, even professional success now depends on "how many people you know" and "how well you communicate with lots people in your 'network.'" That, in turn, engendered an entirely new--and distinctly American--concept in the English language: "NETWORKING."

I don't "network." I maintain human relationships with as many people as I can. I do not cultivate relationships that I know won't go anywhere. And I certainly do not calculate relationships in order to win petty career advancement. I don't like using people for selfish ends. Yet this is precisely what "networking" demands. I am not "successful" in the linked-in world because I do not like exploiting others for my own gain. I actually take pride in that. If I fail because I do not properly "network," I consider that a compliment.

But again, I am a mighty rare bird. I take my time when I speak, read and write. I don't stop reading something because it's over a sentence long. I relish life as it comes; I don't try to manipulate it according to a plan or expectation.

People who "network" don't have time for that. Every conversation must yield a tangible benefit; every contact must have a "purpose" that leads closer to a "goal." If you write something, it had better be short because these folks are in a hurry. There is never enough time for them. And that's why there is no peace in the linked-in society. You have peace when you have enough time each day to meaningfully pursue your own heart. If finding peace means turning off your cell phone for a few hours, I say do it.

Speak when you want to, not because you must. That will bring you some peace. Unplug yourself for a while. It is quite rewarding. Who knows: You might actually feel human again.

AMERICAN TROOPS DON'T NEED MODERN WEAPONS TO BEAT INSURGENTS AND TERRORISTS

A WORD FROM THE FRONT

By : Colonel Harold F. Ehrenkranz, United States Army, 443rd Infantry Regiment, Kabul, Afghanistan

We are winning the war. We easily defeated Saddam Hussein in 2003 and we drove Osama bin Laden like a rat from his cave. No matter what the critics back home say, the United States military has kicked terrorist ass no matter where it has dared to bare itself.

And why shouldn't we? After all, the United States military has advanced equipment. We know where the insurgents are before we attack them. We have unmanned reconnaissance drones. We have helicopter gunships with laser tracking devices. We even have C-130 assault planes that circle above terrorist camps and blast them with a 75mm airborne artillery cannon. Come on, people, how can we really lose once these buggers come out and fight? Yeah, we've lost a few GIs because the terrorists fight like cowards. But when push comes to shove, we napalm their brown butts before they can say: "Allah, Akbar."

But our battlefield superiority has sparked critics to complain: "It's not a fair fight." They say that it's dishonorable for the United States to use laser-guided bombs, choppers, night-vision scopes and 50-caliber machine guns against goatherds armed with pikes and shovels. Although we acknowledge that our enemies do not enjoy the same technological advantages that we do, we must point out that military operations are not supposed to be fair. Fairness means you give the other fellow an ample opportunity to win. Fairness means he has roughly the same training and equipment as you. Well, that doesn't make sense in war. It's better to fight unfairly and win than to fight fairly and lose. Hey, it's not our problem that Iraq doesn't have an air force.

Still, as soldiers we do not like the implication that we are cheaters. Honor is very important to a soldier. Although we want to win our battles, we feel somehow cheap when we obliterate our opponents with overwhelming modern firepower. I mean, there's not much honor in calling down a chopper strike on a house filled with 5 camel-herders armed with bolt-action rifles. Sure, it's an easy win, but what did we prove as soldiers? We did not prove our superior training. We simply proved that we have greater technology and we can kill without risk to ourselves.

As an honorable United States Army officer, I am prepared to meet any challenge to my honor. I am prepared to say that American soldiers are tougher, better trained and deadlier than any insurgent on earth. We don't need fancy night-vision goggles, airpower or laser-scopes to beat turban-wearing shepherds. We can take them blindfolded with one hand tied behind our backs. We are better men than these cowardly terrorists. That's why I am proud to announce that my regiment will drop all its modern weapons next month and fight the terrorists at an intentional disadvantage.

Next month will be "Redcoat Month" in the 443rd Infantry Regiment. In order to show that American troops are better men than these lousy insurgents, we commit to fighting in the open. We commit to refusing all air support. We even commit to dropping our khaki camouflage uniforms and donning 18th Century British red uniforms. We will not even use modern weapons. We are so confident that we are better soldiers than these pitiful rebels that we will use only flintlock muskets with bayonets.

We'll see who's more honorable next month. We won't even follow modern battlefield protocol or tactics. We will march in line formation in daylight through enemy-controlled sectors flying flags and singing American songs. When the insurgents attack, we will hold the line and present disciplined musket fire against them. If they fight from cover, we will call them dishonorable cowards. And we will win because we are tougher soldiers who prefer honorable death to dishonorable victory.

Just let these scrappers try to ambush us. We don't need cover. We can shoot better than any Afghan farmer, even with smoothbore muskets that take 30 seconds to reload. But just in case the battle goes poorly, we reserve the right to call in our dragoons and muzzle-loading 8-pound cannons. We'll see who's tougher when the Afghan militia comes face to face with honorable American horse-drawn field guns! Just look at them. Be afraid, Mullah Omar, be VERY afraid:

We will win the war because we are Americans. We are better than the Afghanis and Iraqis not because we have superior military equipment, air power and advanced recon drones with satellite-driven global positioning capability. We are better because we are true soldiers. We can win this war without newfangled technological contraptions. Give just one American a musket and a bayonet and he can beat any disorganized Arab mob.

President Obama, you don't need to send reinforcements. We have the situation well in hand. We swear to bring honor to you and the United States by defeating these rebel scum on fair terms in open combat. Forget about the air force. We refuse to sully our honor by letting pilots do our work. No, Mr. President, we will bring you the Afghan warlords' heads in a sack after we defeat their forces with muskets and pistols. Never fear; every American boy will make it home. These devious terrorists can't hurt us. Even if we march in parade step in bright red uniforms against their AK-47s and RPGs, we will prevail because we are Americans.

This is Redcoat Month. The United States will win a great and honorable victory in Afghanistan. And we will do it with a handicap. Let's see what the critics say about us then.

THE MILITARY IS SOCIALISTIC BECAUSE IT CARES ABOUT ITS OWN MEN

AN ESSAY

Several days ago, I watched a documentary about American military strategy against Japan during World War II. The basic lesson boiled down to this: “America won not by overwhelming manpower, but rather by overwhelming firepower.” Unlike the Japanese—and especially the Russians—American military leaders recoiled from suffering heavy casualties in battle. Instead, they preferred to leverage massive technological advantages against their enemies, ostensibly because they cared about their soldiers’ lives. In the Pacific, this involved blasting the Japanese with massive battleships, airplanes and tanks. Obviously some infantrymen had to die in the final push to take island fortresses, but not before the Navy and Air Force gravely weakened the defenders with numbing firepower. In essence, although America mustered huge numbers of military personnel in World War II—over 16 million—commanders won battles without subjecting them to unnecessary risks.

That tradition continued after the war ended. In virtually every conflict America has fought since 1945, the military has put a premium on technology over manpower. Manpower is vital to operate the technology, but American strategy bets on technology to win battles, not massed men. In Vietnam, the Air Force dropped countless tons of bombs on the jungle in an effort to root out the Viet Cong. B-52 bombers razed North Vietnam’s cities to the ground. When American troops got in trouble, they called in air support to hammer their attackers. In most cases, the Air Force faced no opposition at all. They freely bombed, napalmed and strafed their enemies. American soldiers died. But a whole lot more Vietnamese did.

In Operation Desert Storm, America took its “technological” approach to war to the ultimate level. By 1991, the United States held sway over a formidable new “computerized” arsenal, including invincible tanks, stealth bombers and “smart bombs” that could home in on individual targets. Again, although America deployed hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the Gulf, the technology did the fighting. Day and night, the Air Force systematically pulverized the Iraqi army. By the time the Army moved in, there was almost nothing left to shoot. And once the advance into Kuwait began, the Army savagely destroyed anything that resisted. This time, only a handful of American soldiers died, while up to 100,000 Iraqis did. So complete was the slaughter that more American troops fell to friendly fire than to enemy action.

Beginning in 2003, America has attempted to leverage its “technological” approach to warfare in Iraq. Despite initial successes against “conventional” resistance on the way to toppling Saddam Hussein’s regime, American strategy bogged down once the conventional battlelines disappeared. The guerrilla “insurgency” that arose after Saddam’s fall continues to this day. American troops must engage in demoralizing patrols. Often, they are hard pressed to tell civilians from foes. In most cases, they never even see their attackers, who either wait in ambush or plant traps for them along the roads. Technology counts for nothing in these circumstances. And this is why—despite the smug confidence of men like former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and George W. Bush—the capabilities of “technology-based” armies in the 21st Century have their limits.

Yet I do not fully criticize America’s “technological” or “standoff” approach to war. America fights wars all the time. True, they are not colossal, World War II-style struggles between established States. But they are wars nonetheless. America solves problems with warfare. It defends its ideology and commercial interests with warfare, just as every Empire in history has done. Perhaps this is what dominant world powers must do. And at least America is not reckless when it fights. It does its utmost to ensure that few Americans die. Officially, it tries to reduce civilian casualties, but civilian casualties are unavoidable when deploying such immense firepower. America avoids losing its own men by deploying firepower. If it kills some civilians in order to save Americans, it will. That is just how the game works.

I do not criticize America’s war methodology to the extent that American military leaders care about American lives. There is nothing wrong with wanting to avoid unnecessary deaths. In fact, one might even say it is compassionate. Throughout history, many military leaders viewed their own men with contempt. They did not blink when hurling them into certain death. Generally speaking, however, American commanders rarely do this. While some men always must die to fulfill dangerous objectives, the real question is how many must die. The Russians never cared how many soldiers died. They just threw everyone in and trusted their overwhelming manpower to win. By contrast, American commanders actually take pains to reduce risks to their own troops by first inundating the enemy with firepower. In a strange way, this reflects care for individual lives. It might subject noncombatants to huge risks and inflict horrific losses on the enemy. But it is still “care.” American military commanders don’t hesitate to kill the enemy. They just don’t like seeing Americans get killed. It actually really bothers them.

I mention this because care for soldiers reflects a peculiarly benevolent, well-intentional government paternalism. In America, that is rare. In civilian life, for example, Americans learn to be independent economic creatures. They learn to “make their own way” without State help. They don’t get free health insurance; they bear the full price of irresponsibility, bad luck and failure. American civilians depend on themselves, not State apparati. In fact, Americans are patriotic largely to the extent that the American “Nation” provides them a “liberty sphere” in which they can pursue their own interests without interference from the government. They like America because America “leaves them alone” and lets them get rich. They don’t want help, because help is for weaklings. They want to be happy, independent economic producers who pursue their own self-interest. For the most part, the government lets them do exactly this. It does not step in when civilians suffer hardship or loss. It lets them bear suffering with remarkable indifference. It does not really “care” for them like a watchful parent does.

Not so in the military. The military is a governmental institution that shows incredible care for its members. In the military, the emphasis does not lie on the individual; it lies on the group. There is a “group mission” and “group ethics” that bind everyone to common—and noncommercial—goals. There is common care for each member. It may be harsh care, but it is still care. If a solider gets sick, army hospitals care for him. He does not have to worry about rent, food, clothing or bills. The military provides him everything he needs, leaving him free to focus solely on the “group mission.” Finally, American commanders truly care that their troops do not die in battle. This represents true government care. Symbolically, when military commanders actively worry about their soldiers’ lives, it represents government caring about its citizens. This differs from civilian life. If a civilian encounters unavoidable circumstances that put his life in jeopardy, that’s his problem. The civilian authorities do not care.

Should we be proud about this? Why does government care not extend throughout all of society, not just certain institutions like the military? Do we have to confront mortal danger in combat before the government starts really worrying about our well-being in life? The United States spends half its gross national product on maintaining the military. This includes all the fancy technology that gives the military the “overwhelming firepower” it needs to preserve its “manpower.” People complain that the government spends too much on things like stealth bombers, unmanned robot tanks and sophisticated airstrike guidance systems. But all these expenditures reflect care for individual soldiers’ lives, not just a desire to defeat potential enemies. Stealth bombers efficiently destroy things so that military commanders do not have to put American soldiers in jeopardy to fulfill a particular objective. The pricetag for stealth bombers, then, indirectly saves American lives by insulating American soldiers from combat risks.

For a country that prides itself on “self-reliance” and “making your own way,” it is quite striking that America spends so much money protecting those who are not self-reliant. After all, military personnel are quintessentially dependent: They depend on the military for everything, from equipment to food to accommodations to emotional support. In essence, the Armed Forces represent a massive welfare State dedicated to the safety and well-being of its members. It is ironic that most military personnel consider themselves conservative when they directly benefit from extravagant government largesse on every level.

In fact, they get the best. There are less than 5 million Americans in the Armed Forces, yet half the GDP goes to support them. The other 295 million Americans have to make do with the other half.

America can be socialistic when it wants to be. American support for the military—and the military’s obsessive care for its own members—proves this. That is why I do not think that “socialism” and “America” exclude one another. Our military is a shining example that Americans can truly care about each other from a social perspective. American commanders do not like to see their soldiers die; they take great, expensive pains to ensure that they do not. That spirit should permeate our entire society, not just the military. Yes, it costs a lot. But it bears tangible benefits. When individuals know that they have recourse to assistance when they need it, they feel good to be part of a larger community that cares about them. Soldiers feel proud to be in the Armed Forces for the same reason; they know the military will support them as long as they do not commit some gross infraction.

Considering all these factors, the military is a socialistic institution. It is not capitalistic at all. It might fight to protect capitalistic ideals among civilians, but capitalism in the military would destroy its cohesion and esprit de corps. If the military practiced capitalistic ideals, soldiers and officers would struggle to exploit one another for personal gain, not to advance “common goals” or “the mission.” Soldiers would fight for “themselves,” not their “buddies” or great principles such as “freedom,” “honor” or “sacrifice.” If the military were capitalistic, soldiers on the battlefield would say to their wounded comrades: “That’s your problem, pal.” Some Lieutenants would be richer than other Lieutenants, even though the regulations say that everyone with the same rank is equal. And if the military practiced capitalism, it would not really care if some undifferentiated soldiers died in a battle as long as it did not impose a cost “on profitable operations.” This is certainly not the case in the military as it exists in the United States. It cares too much about others’ lives; that is why it is not a capitalistic institution. Rather, it is a socialistic institution within a capitalistic society. And it would not be effective in battle if it were not essentially socialistic.

America can learn from the military. Military life is in many ways a rarefied existence. Military personnel are insulated from the pernicious “buy, sell, make money” cycle that typifies civilian life. Every soldier has a chance to advance based on his merit, not his money. He does not worry about bills, rent, clothing or electricity. Instead, he focuses his mind and body on larger “missions” that transcend his own commercial gain. And he knows that his officers truly care that he lives. These are not bad ideals. In fact, they are quite noble compared to the usual impulses that drive civilian life. Soldiers are not “on their own” in a society that could care less whether they live, die or go bankrupt. They are part of a family that cares. It may care harshly, but it still cares.

In the American military, commanders care so much about their soldiers’ lives that they are willing to level whole cities in order to protect them. We do not have to go that far in order to care about our fellow citizens. The military experience proves that America can actively care about its own people, even if it professes “self-reliance” and “total independence.” I would find it refreshing to know that civilian authorities cared as much whether individual citizens live or die as military commanders care whether their soldiers live or die. This might be socialistic. But it is also quintessentially humanitarian.