Jessica Lynch and the Lies of the State
by Karen De Coster
by Karen De Coster
Isn't it staggering to hear what the Jessica Lynch Worshippers are doing in West Virginia? Parties, balloons, fireworks, painted red-white-and-blue buildings, yellow ribbons, marching bands, and amplified exaltations — all the customary feelgoodisms that Americans soak up to the bone, and with great pleasure.
As one West Virginia resident said, "When you try to malign Jessica, that's fighting talk in West Virginia." In other words, the truth be damned while we are all feeling so sunny, singing our little verses and championing our pretend playhouse built around the government's Jessicaisms. Are the masses this desperate for something to make them "feel good"? Alas, they are, and that provides the breeding ground for the State to exploit the usual, feelgood state of affairs and pass off its lies as truth.
I've written about the Jessica Lynch case quite often, in my web blog, and I have discovered that people are either completely bought and sold on the propaganda, and therefore livid that I would dare to utter the truth, or, they are so tired of the relentless embellishments that they write and cheer me on. There seems to be no middle ground with folks. It's a love or hate situation in terms of the State's worn-out propaganda tactics.
I've even had the feelgooders write me and tell me that, somehow, it's un-libertarian to "pick on" little Jessica. Of course it's not. The whole salutation revolving around Jessica is not only another example of the need for unceasing, idiotic feelgoodism on the part of the incurably ignorant masses, but this time, it was all started via the lies of the State — with the full support of its media whores — in order to help perpetuate support for its brutal and needless war. The State lied about the details of the capture of Jessica's maintenance unit, and it lied about her role in it. It lied about how she received her injuries. Then the military created a huge drama out of an uncomplicated rescue operation by its Special Forces, playing it out for all the knee-jerking emotionalists to absorb, worship, and behold with delight.
And the whole focus on female Jessica — as opposed to anyone else involved in this war — was to please the affirmative action-feminist Feelgoodists, which belong to a special breed of feelgoodism. Glory be! A Woman Warrior we can exalt! Hallelujah! Pardon me, but Jessica Lynch is about as much a "warrior" as the photographer on the sidelines at a pro football game that gets crunched when Michael Vick runs out of bounds and mows him over.
Jessica is nothing more than a tool of the State's propaganda machine. She is no warrior and no heroine. In fact, she was so incompetent as a "soldier," that her gun is said to have been jammed due to faulty maintenance. Think about it: what does a paper-pushing, female clerk care about guns or soldiering anyway?
Jessica has done nothing to deserve military accolades. She determinedly battles her injuries and trauma, however, that is a personal battle, and it has nothing to do with performing heroics for the State. Nor does her injury spectacle belong in the military arena as some outstanding event to be singled out, watched over, lauded, and applauded. If that's the case, let's all go down to any city or veterans hospital right now, and strike up the band and chorus for every injured and sick person in sight.
Whenever the State has another one of its wars, it has to win support for that war, and it does so through that collectivist concept known as unity. Unity means that you don't dare think for yourself. Unity means that you fold yourself into the collective mold, toss reason and critical thinking out the door, and let the lion's share of emotions around you dictate your next train of thought and any subsequent moves. It means you rally ‘round the Yellow Ribbon Campaign of Folly. And it means you don't dare ask questions or seek facts, because the picture has already been painted for you, in total, and any additional brush strokes on your part will land you in the propagandist's gulag because you disrupted the joy of unity. Your anti-unity, independent thought process denies Hillary's Village and its justification for existence.
Unity is advanced along the lines of emotions. The emotional enema takes place via the brain. It cleans out reason and logic and it inserts fluffy-sounding words, puffed-up feelings, cutesy images, and false, tear-jerking stories to blubber over endlessly. What appeals to the emotional function? An innocent chick getting nabbed by an evil, darkie enemy. No matter how "progressive" the feminists would like American civilization to become, our society, in general, does not want its women in war, or anywhere near it. The American masses are livid when they see our women caught up in the hellishness of war. No matter how ignorant the sheeple become, they know that women and war don't go together.
It's past time to let go of the embarrassing Jessica Veneration process. In fact, it was indeed a Sgt. Donald Walters who is said to be the guy who fought the captors. Can we say that out loud? Guy. G-U-Y. Fun, isn't it? Sgt. Walters was only a cook, but he was apparently one tough chap. The mother of the dead Sgt. Walters is fighting the Army for some deserved recognition for her son, because his role in fending off capture has never been recognized by the Supreme Propagandists at work in the government's propaganda mill. And why would that be?
You see, Sgt. Walters is a man, and that doesn't tug at the heartstrings of the clueless masses all singing ‘round the campfire in their endless unity circles. Men are not soft and cuddly. They aren't as photogenic as females, nor are they pretty. And even if they're blond, you won't hear them described as "blond." No one cares about the color of a dead guy's hair. And since they are inherently sturdy and more warrior-like, they are expected to be fighters and warriors when the State needs them to be. Anything less is a failure. Men don't draw out the emotions as well as little bimbos in uniform. Men don't make good subject matter for all of the various Unity Love-Ins. We can throw our men in front of tanks, snipers, and crazed, suicidal killers in the course of nation-building and Empire expansion, and we're not supposed to be affected. Because, after all, they are only men. Men are disposable in a feelgood society that blames white, Euro, Western civilization for all of the social order's ills.
So let's say it — no matter how politically incorrect and "callous" it sounds: JESSICA LYNCH IS A CLERK, NOT A SOLDIER. You know, a paper pusher. A no-excel body that was just one of many bodies sucked into military service for economic reasons. A woman with no options better than some low-level job in the military. A barely-motivated welfare recipient. Yes, the military is a huge welfare program for lower class and working class kids who have no job, no future, no way of comfortably supporting themselves, and many of these young people turn to military service for instant paychecks, housing, medical insurance, cheap goods and services, and the assorted benefits that come after their service is over. Jessica Lynch had no immediate future, and that's why she was a clerk in a maintenance unit in the Army. How dare the truth be spoken!
And now, the United States Army has officially closed the investigation of the 507th Maintenance Unit incident involving Jessica Lynch. How convenient. Another matter swept underneath the rug behind a locked door so that no one can dare find out the truth behind the lies of the State.
Oh, and the Telegraph, a part of the foreign press not beholden to any US regime party line or American political correctness codes, dared to tell us that, yes, Sgt. Donald Walters was a blond guy.
July 30, 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
Copyright © 2003 Karen De Coster