Iran memories
Over the last few days, as Iran has suffered under US bombs and threats of extermination, I have been thinking about a winter evening in 1979. I was in Youngstown, Ohio, visiting my sister. It was in the midst of the Hostage Crisis, begun when hundreds of Iranian students swept into the American Embassy, ultimately capturing fifty-two hostages, holding them for 444 days. This action helped secure the revolutionary government of Ayatollah Khomeini and brought down the presidency of Jimmy Carter. But all of that had yet to unfold.
On that winter evening, I had gathered with some friends at the Army Navy Club to watch the closing of the last US Steel plant in the Mahoning Valley. The club, favored by Viet Nam vets, was perched on a high ridge, looking down at a huge complex, blazing with light, but eerily without any people. The steel mill was about to shut down for good. It was among the last in the rapid closings of mills that began on Black Monday of 1977, throwing out 50,000 workers in the space of two years, devastating families and communities.
At midnight, as we stood outside looking down at the factory, the lights went out. In the darkness, on the ridge across the valley, a giant billboard suddenly became visible. It was a picture of the Ayatollah and several blindfolded figures. The board read IRAN, LET MY PEOPLE GO. The conversation that evening was a combination of stories about the factory, anger at the owners, and the need to bomb Iran. Many of the Vietnam vets thought we should have dropped nuclear weapons on Vietnam and “shown them.” Many thought we should do the same to Iran.
The next morning, the local newspaper carried a cartoon showing Santa Claus flying over Iran, dumping trash from his sleigh on the heads of the people far below. In many ways Trumps social media post of himself as a king flying a jet and dumping excrement on the heads of protesters was an extension of this old idea.
I’ve been thinking about that night and those cartoons, because they point to a larger concern than Donald Trump and Pete Hegseth. While both are men of extraordinary cruelty and are openly committing war crimes, they are the product of who we are as a nation. They are reflections of our worst selves and most deadly pieces of our past.
On that night in 1979, ordinary people, most of whom would not be considered war criminals, talked easily of “nuking” other nations. They loved the phrase “bombing them back to the Stone Age.” Since the end of World War II, elites in the USA have fostered hatred toward Iran, refused to acknowledge any historical context for our relationships, demonized its people, and consistently used force to pursue US interests.
The inability to acknowledge the consequences of violence we initiate in the lives of people is an American malady. Certainly, Trump and his allies reflect this malady, but it did not start with them. And when we get rid of Trump and this nightmare of violence, it will not end there.
Far too many Americans have been shaped to uphold a world that protects the wealth and privileges of a few at the expense of much of the globe. These self-centered, thing-oriented beliefs are destroying us as a people and much of the earth upon which we depend.
If we are to create a new world based on compassion and joy, where people can live full, productive, and affirming lives, we are going to have to confront the casual cruelties and moral emptiness that infuse our daily lives.
In the past, we have found ways to move beyond these cruelties and create new connections. Over the last 100 years, at our best, we have acted to bring beloved communities to life. We have much strength to draw upon if we have the courage to face the truths of who we are. There are no shortcuts to who we need to become.