It's astonishing how quickly war becomes mundane. For the journalist, it happens quicker than for most. An initial article that praises the foolishness of men who speak only in clichés and sound bites - 'smooth transition of power', 'hearts and minds' - or occasionally one warning of the pecuniary cost of war. Then another, reporting on some battlefield change. Rebels have advanced five miles, pro-government forces have recaptured large town, generals say strikes are targeted. Then comes inertia.
The Grocer who was furious to hear that his army was at it again, plundering some far off country, starts grinding his teeth over deficits, or his mortgage's interest rate. War becomes normal. 'A man who lives three streets away is flying a Tornado GR4 over Libya, bombing Muammar Gaddafi's Tripoli compound', 'that'll be three pounds forty please'. The University Professor, who told an undergraduate 'we simply cannot have another Srebrenica', goes back to talking about the influence Plutarch had on Shakespeare.
Within weeks, war is normal. Instead of debating we become passive spectators. Instead of protesting we switch on the television every night at six and, as if we were all part of some strange mass cultural ritual, we listen to an attractive woman in her mid-thirties read that only 15 of our soldiers have been killed this month, from an auto-cue. War exists for us only in pictures, or in the lifeless words of a columnist. It is at once too close and yet completely out of reach. We know that there is 'collateral damage', and we hear the hiss of a bullet flying over a reporter's head, but it sounds less real than Saving Private Ryan. We don't forget that we are at war with the people of Afghanistan, but we remember it only like we remember that the Olympic Stadium is being built. Contained and half-forgotten, war becomes a natural part of daily routine.
A few months ago I attended a lecture on Just War Theory. Between an interesting discussion of Suez and some Aquinas, the lecturer said, with a straight face, that Just War Theory "comes from the rich tradition of Western pacifism". My very earliest memories are of war. Not of real war, with stinking latrines, the smell of charred blood, and infants holding their own severed arms, but T.V war: an anchorman in make-up with glazed over eyes and a furrowed brow. I can't remember a time when Britain wasn't at war. I can't envision a moment when someone who claims to represent me won't be picking 'target rich environments' for bombing 'raids'. And so, the lecturer was right. 'Western pacifism' exists. It is becoming so comfortable with war and atrocity that it's part of you. It's doing nothing, when you know you are responsible for the terrors of the earth. That is real pacifism.
William Hague announced today that he was expelling all Libyan diplomats from Britain, and formally recognising the Transitional National Council. It is a clear message from the Conservative government. They are committed to Libya. Libya will be their war. It is also an answer to Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, who on the 16th of June announced that Muammar was willing to hold internationally monitored elections in Libya. It's unsurprising that this announcement was ignored. Turn on the T.V; on with the war.
We have stung war with an anaesthetic. We have wrapped it up like a dead fly in our white web, because we couldn't bear to look at it uncovered, and we feast on it. We lie to ourselves. We tell ourselves that Tolstoy was wrong, and that war isn't 'an event opposed to human reason and human nature'. Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive!