I envy the protesters' easy assumption that the values, beliefs, and principles that they hold dear can possibly halt the gears of war already set in motion, now virtually unstoppable. Two years ago, while living in Lebanon, I had my first taste of war. It is a metallic taste, a bitter taste of repressed sorrow, rage, and fear that can neither be swallowed nor vomited. These corrosive emotions stick in your throat day after endless day. That was enough time for me to learn how war disrupts your digestion, your schedule, and your relationships.
Tempers flare, sleep evaporates, and concentration disintegrates.
War also upsets your assumptions and expectations. I learned what it meant to be powerless, at the mercy of the merciless. I saw that innocents could be slaughtered with impunity while the outside world yawned with indifference. I learned how cheap was the life of anyone within range of the Israeli Air Force, whose jets, like maddened hornets, shrieked and whined angrily over our heads threatening death and destruction every moment of every day. My brief experience of war left me awed by the strength of people in Lebanon, who had survived 16 years of unrelenting terror, helplessness, and chaos with their sense of humor and joie de vivre intact.