My father, whose military medals and discharge papers were stashed in a wooden box buried in a closet, never spoke about World War II. The discharge papers said that he came out of the service as a corporal, a sharpshooter, and had served with distinction behind enemy lines. The medals suggested battles fought and valor under fire.
We got an occasional hint that he’d experienced his share of awfulness. We did not own guns, and we did not allow hunting on our land, anomalies among the farm families from our neck of the woods. My uncle once told me my dad had been in an ambush where only he and another guy in his unit survived. When we balked at eating all the food on our plates, he would sometimes end the dispute by declaring flatly: “You’ve never seen people starving to death.” He was right. We had not. And so we’d soldier on, through the boiled beets or the cauliflower, wondering all the while who he’d seen starving to death, and why.
Late in his life, he opened up a little bit about the war, as if there were things he wanted us to know. He said he had seen a lot of shooting, and had seen a lot of people killed, many by friendly fire discharged in the chaos and confusion of battle. In the wake of the war, he suffered from what today would be called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and could not be around crowds or endure loud noises. “You never knew what was going on,” he said of his war experience. And that, to me, remains the enduring impression of what war is: That those doing the actual fighting do not know what’s going on
War is an Industrial Age game played by the powerful at the expense of those whose lives are on the line. We know from the tragic story of Pat Tillman in Afghanistan that those doing the actual fighting still do not know what’s going on.
All of which is why the story of Arzu Rugs caught my my attention last week on the local news in Chicago. Founded by Connie Duckworth, a former Goldman Sachs trader, Arzu imports the beautiful rugs woven by the artisans of Afghanistan. But rugmaking is only the meta layer of a game with much deeper meaning, and many other objectives.
Arzu’s work embroiders art and commercialism with social consciousness. Before they can sign a contract with Arzu, weavers are required to take courses in literacy, math, health, hygiene, nutrition and human rights. Arzu has championed women’s rights, piloted community sports programs, built catchbasins to provide villages with healthy drinking water, and given educations to the children of hundreds of Afghan families.
In the Afghan language of Daria, ‘arzu’ means hope.
In the Networked World, we have the ability to play games that are more productive than the one that truamatized my father and killed Pat Tillman. Games initiated by the powerful for the benefit of all who play them, where all the players know what’s going on. Games that out-smart our enemies instead of trying to out-kill them, that feed people instead of starving them. Games in which friendly fire means stoking the hope that burns in every parent for every child.
Tags: , Arzu, Bob Bonifer, Connie Duckworth, Games, Goldman Sachs, Pat Tillman, PTSD, Rugs, War, World War II
If this story struck a sweet chord with you then consider reading “Three Cups of Tea” which is every bit about the gamesmanship, in the same general neck of the woods, and breaking down conventions.
What I think is interesting is that these stories are not about “winning” — at least not in the sense that it’s about making your adversary bow down or acknowledge defeat. The winning objective is achieved when you help make your opponent a winner. If your opponent isn’t convinced s/he has won, then you haven’t won.
Compare that to the widely-held belief that we’re in an ideological struggle and all that that entails. We see, from these and other examples (such as “Kabul Beauty School”), that uplifting people and turning them into winners is the winning strategy for us. Unfortunately, I think the prevailing view — even among those who want the wars to end — is that victory in the ideological struggle is defined by the defeat of our adversary.
I can’t state with any authority that bombs shouldn’t be dropped. There are people who are engaged in a military campaign against us and a military response seems appropriate as to those adversaries. But in the larger struggle that’s going on…each bomb dropped puts us farther away from the goal of making our adversaries winners. The bombs may be necessary, but we — too — pay a price when they hit their intended targets.