Five Ways to Win a War, Five Ways to Lose One
It is difficult these days to understand what war actually is. One hears of drones hovering above deserts and cities, of cyber-attacks that paralyze hospitals and power grids, of missiles launched from thousands of miles away by operators who may never see the faces of the people beneath them. The language has become strangely antiseptic: precision strike, surgical operation, collateral damage. And yet the images remain stubbornly human. Children pulled from rubble. Mothers running through smoke. Men staring at the sky, unsure whether the buzzing overhead is a machine or fate - wounds that someone later will try to repair. In moments like these, an old poem returns to me, one I first encountered as a boy. Edwin Brock’s “Five Ways to Kill a Man.” The poem is brief. Almost unsettlingly so. Its logic is ruthless in its simplicity. Brock begins with the ancient method: you make a man carry wood up a hill and nail him to it. From there he moves through history, through crusade...