For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. – Matthew 25: 35, 36
The war in Afghanistan is not front-page news there; it is, after all, isolated in two southern provinces, though its reach is felt elsewhere. The lead stories in Afghanistan are about the drought, lack of infrastructure and political machinations. There are stories about the awful roads and the struggle to build schools and hospitals. In short, they are local stories of local interest; and Afghans are engaged in them and discuss them openly. Not to say they aren't interested in the Taliban or the NATO troops; they are seen in context of the more immediate and demanding issues facing the nation.
In Canada the story of Afghanistan is filtered through the presence of troops who are fighting the Taliban along with NATO forces. The “war” is over-reported by our media, which is seemingly embedded with the troops in conflict zones; though we don't like to think of them that way, particularly those journalists working for our national broadcaster. Each political party in Ottawa uses each soldier's death in Kandahar to promote its own ideology. Meanwhile the public debate has degenerated into the usual one of defining our Canadian identity: are we peacemakers or warmongers? Are we for the troops or against them? Are we imperialists? Are we American lapdogs? This excuse for public discourse is pathetic in a uniquely Canadian way.
As Christians we too struggle to define ourselves and have fallen into a similar trap, as we discuss ideas of peace and love and of ecumenism and inter-faith relations. This was most sharply seen in a letter sent in August by the Canadian Council of Churches to Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Rev. Karen Hamilton, general secretary of the CCC, said in a press release: “Canadian churches have consistently called on the Canadian government to build peace with the people of Afghanistan rather than pursue a war on terror, to employ all diplomatic means to achieve that end including engaging civil society and religious networks, and to direct the effort of the Canadian Forces to the protection of lives and the preservation of civilian infrastructure.”
I too am struggling to define my response to the struggles in Afghanistan, where I met people whom I could honestly describe as victims of circumstance and forethought. Part of my struggle bumps into comments like the council's: “war of terror” is a code referring to American imperialism; most of the Canadian casualties have happened as a result of preserving “civilian infrastructure” that is rife with land mines and other bombs. Canada is working with the people and the government of Afghanistan but the battle is against insurgent forces, which apply guerrilla tactics. None of the people I met in Afghanistan have any love for the Taliban, but then I saw only a part of the country. And how does one engage in diplomatic relations with a group of ideological extremists? As my daddy used to say, “It's easier said than done.”
And, Canada, through its churches, aid agencies and government agencies is engaging in civil society. Church organizations are actively involved in providing succour, in the name of Christ. Our own PWS&D has taken brave leadership in many parts of Afghanistan; and we are rightly proud of them. They provide much of what the council seeks, and they manage it through partnership with federal institutions like the Canadian International Development Agency. It is part of the multi-tiered response our country represents; and is largely ignored in the public discourse.
But the support provided by aid agencies is at best palliative. An effective solution depends on the status of the Taliban. And this is where I and (I think) the council struggle in defining ourselves as Christian. (To be fair, despite the overstatement in the press release, much of what I've argued is equivocated in the council's letter.)
Nick Lowe once famously asked in a song, “What's so funny 'bout peace, love & understanding?” Nothing, of course, but they, like all other rights, are not free. There is a price to pay. Civil society isn't just something that happens out of good intentions and the right policies. Failure to pay that price leads to vacuous rhetoric and the hollow feeling inside that constantly begs, “Who am I?”
