Wouldn’t
it be Nice to be in a Foxhole Together So We Could Bring Our Dumb
Fights, Petty Jealousies, and Energy-Zapping Crises to the Frontlines?
by
Karen De Coster
This
whole Jessica Lynch worshipping mania has lent the feminists new
life. Somehow, a paper-pushing, female, Army clerk getting captured
by incompetent, poorly trained Iraqi soldiers, and surviving a short
period of lying on a hospital cot where she was cared for,
is all we need to know to conclude that women can handle combat.
There
have been oodles of scientific studies and methodological approaches
on male vs. female capacities that clearly tell the truth of why
women don't belong in combat, but how about the basic, truth-telling
observations of why men and women should never mix in combat situations:
- Protectorate.
Males tend toward a natural defense of women that would disrupt
the particulars of combat objectives. In a non-decadent, Western
culture, any man should and will feel compelled to protect
and defend a woman in distress. This is what men do. Thank God
for testosterone.
- Sexual.
The complicated issue of men and women mixing it up sexually
always creates the possibility for emotional torment, mutual
obsession, and perpetual grief – the kind of stuff that keeps
soldiers from concentrating on the mission at hand. Sexual tension
also creates uneasiness within any group setting.
- Emotional
ties. The emotional and territorial issues – that are the
result of sexual relationships of men and women being guarded
and jealous concerning who is sleeping with who, who belongs
to who, who is "looking" at who, who is flirting with
who, who is wearing what in front of who, etc. Think of the
silly fights and jealousies that erupt between men and women
over the silliest darn things; oh please, do we need that in
a combat setting?
- Muscles.
Physical strength differentials. Men are masculine and strong,
women are not. (At least they aren’t supposed to be.)
- Emotional
differentials. Women cry after running over a squirrel in
the road. Most men won’t bat an eye, and may even enjoy it.
- Emotional
intelligence. The emotional IQ of women is far higher and
more developed. Men tend toward being more generally "clueless,"
and not thinking things through. Ever hear of the term "clueless
man?" In any situation where quick thinking and rapid action
is necessary, the various stopovers, lollygags, and deep treks
that a woman’s brain makes in order to assess the various emotive
outcomes can equal death, and not only for herself, but a whole
crew of soldiers.
- Hygiene.
Women have high-maintenance hygiene issues that must be attended
to, and this extends beyond the monthly factor.
- Survival.
Men can do without, and they won’t complain. Women are predisposed
toward luxuries and being pandered to. Their tolerance for doing
without life’s little essentials is way lower then that of men.
Only
those who never pay attention to men and women in general and never
form relationships with a variety of people could say they do not
notice such conduct. A typical moment: my girlfriend and I were
driving in the car one day, and she was incessantly punching redial
on her cell phone, trying to get through to her beau, and she kept
getting his busy signal instead. When she finally got through, it
was a fight starting along the lines of, "you were talking
to someone else for an hour, and you never even talk to me for that
long!" That spat lasted for days. Or how about the big restaurant
catfight that starts when a guy takes his gaze off his date because
some hot blonde walked by?
In
general, neither men nor women are perpetual boobs when sorted by
gender. Only individuals are boobs. Neither gender should have to
take the burden of the blame for the Mars-Venus syndrome. Mother
Nature just has it set up so that we can’t live with each other
or without each other. That’s nature’s most delightful trick on
humankind. Actually, women have many legitimate complaints against
men and their assorted behaviors. Men screw up; their immaturity
level is typically far beneath that of a comparably-aged woman.
But the point is do we need those kinds of mêlées
in a combat zone or any military exercise? Only a social utilitarian
with the most militantly progressive agenda would answer yes to
that. And that’s what we have with the Feminist Left and the Republican-Social
Democratic, Feminist New Right.
Perhaps
most noticeable, though, is the good old physical strength issue.
The women-in-combat movement seems to ignore this, excuse it away,
or try and prove it irrelevant. They dream that some 140-pound mother
of two can keep up in the trenches with the most physically futile
man, let alone the average or superior conditioned male.
Hey,
once upon a time, when I was eight or nine years old, I was determined
to be the first woman (goaltender) in the National Hockey League.
I was the most steadfast goalie in the neighborhood and school.
Then at about twelve, I was going to be a firefighter like my dad.
But at some point, my 5’3" came to a grinding halt, and the
guys around me shot up like redwood trees. But then an even more
amazing thing happened: I grew up; something the militant feminists
have yet to do.
Now,
moving on to some personal, truth-telling observations I’ve had
lately. They center on my trips to the local Powerhouse Gym where
I work out. I see myself as a fit athlete, far above the level of
most women, and even most men. I have long competed in various athletics,
team sports, and I have worked out with weights for many years.
What
I notice at the gym almost each time I go is this: I sit down to
do the bench press, tightly-packed and muscular, but feminine-fit.
With little body fat, I’m feeling good about the 20 or so hours
that I’ve put in working out – in just one week’s time. I suspect
I’m plenty fit to climb Everest because my strength and cardio conditioning
are so exceptional. Then some guy sits at the bench next to me.
He looks like a 165-pound couch potato, of medium build with an
undeveloped chest and arms, and his whole body is soft and flabby
because he’s probably just getting underway with a conditioning
routine.
The
couch potato who probably works out five minutes for every hour
of mine – throws up his plates on the bench press and starts doing
his reps and sets. Needless to say, I can’t help but note that he’s
pressing 4-5 times the weight I am, even as I am maxing out. And
he does it fairly effortlessly, leading me to believe that he hasn’t
even approached maximum effort. The same thing happens watching
the guys do the bicep curls. And the back machines. And so on and
so on. My 112 pounds can squat 150% of my body weight because of
vigorous training. But the male couch potato will do more. Now factor
in the very physically fit males and the discrepancies are mind-boggling.
Is there a lesson to be learned there? Will the Equality Peoples
ever open their eyes to the facts?
Like
all women who are avid athletes, I like to compete as well as be
fit and trim. I like to look good in a bikini as well as keep up
with the front of the pack in a 100-mile cycling event. I love to
be strong and fast while I’m young, and I prepare myself for an
active, fit, healthy old age.
Nevertheless,
if a fit woman like me can be so overwhelmed by a man of average
fitness, factor in the physically elite males and you begin to see
why women just can’t cut it. And they shouldn’t have to.
Women
ought to stay mentally and emotionally healthy. And they ought to
be strong, compete, define their muscles, lift weights, play sports,
and they should try to achieve a level of physical excellence throughout
their lives. Darn right. And men tell me they love fit females.
But
keep women the hell out of combat because we aren’t built to fight,
squash things, blow up, maim, or kill. We’re built to look good
and stay soft.
May
21, 2003
Karen
De Coster, CPA, [send
her mail] is a paleolibertarian freelance writer, graduate student
in Austrian Economics, and a business professional from Michigan.
Her first book is currently in the works. See her Mises
Institute archive for more online articles, and check out her
website, along with her
blog.
Copyright © 2003 Karen De Coster
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