There is no place for humanity in war, there is no place for war in humanity. If, as a nation or dictator, you have a requirement that war is fought by any human in your kingdom, without you yourself engaging in the very perils of said conflict, all rights to prescribe morality ergo are omitted.
War is not for man, it is for the cannibals. When the victor of the game played is decided by which side brings more death upon the other we create an existence outside of the parameters of civilization. To affix rules to such a scenario is contemptuous and often only done so by those who themselves would never dare engage in such acts as the intentional mutilation of another human being. There is no civilized way to remove the soul from a thinking, feeling, living, loving, breathing thing regardless of how strict the rules of engagement.
Cast away the pretentious nature of so-called civilities and send those cannibals to feast, cease with the spurious concept of a noble conflict or take direct opposition to its very existence. But do not tell the killing man how to kill, for he is the one who swims in the ocean of those decisions while stones cast from those upon the shore. Beyond all else, it is well known at this stage in history that when you make a cannibal of man he will never again return to the fruit of the earth for sustenance.
Externally and internally cast out to roam among the others whose disposition is too taboo to discuss. The act of or assignment of the killing of one man for the sake of anything other than direct personal protection is, as such, the homicide of all of humanity. If we are marked to fight, let us shed the constraints of such rules and let the battle commence. If we are to mitigate the act of mutilation let us be done with war and all the hell it creates.
This first appeared in The Havok Journal on May 23, 2014.
Leo Jenkins is a homeless combat vet. After 230 credits he hasn’t finished college yet. From firefighter EMT to the life a Ranger leads. He’s been a medic in Afghanistan as well as Iraq and hasn’t met a pint of beer he won’t attack. A fighter and runner… a swimmer and a lover. A competitive exerciser and free will admirer. His pen is dipped in the ink of allegory and he won’t hesitate to tell his story. Five continents and 31 countries this year alone, he lives his life like a rolling stone.
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