If my high school history serves, the first two non-chronological lines of “The Marine Hymn” refer to this country’s 1847 occupation of Mexico City (the halls of Montezuma), and the 1805 skirmish with the Barbary Pirates, our young nation’s first military foray into international affairs.
It’s safe to say that whoever penned the Marine Hymn was unaware of the topical irony those lines would acquire at the beginning of the 21st century.
The Bush administration has decided to deploy National Guard troops to help prevent the descendants of Montezuma from crossing our southern border. And we’re in the process of normalizing diplomatic relations with Libya, the country responsible for the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 and other acts of state-sponsored terrorism. Didn’t the Barbary Pirates have their headquarters in Tripoli?
There’s more than a little irony at work here. If the lyric of “The Marine Hymn” points up anything, it’s that time is the great determinant in history, that today’s calamities are tomorrow’s cartoons and vice versa. And when it comes to human affairs, there’s no such thing as permanence.
The announcement concerning our diplomatic recognition of Libya has probably caused considerable consternation and a good deal of soul-searching among the families of the 270 victims of Pan Am Flight 103 — and probably most Americans are a trifle puzzled. Mention Qaddafi’s name and what comes to mind is the crumpled crew cabin of a 747 lying in a Scottish field.
Can we trust this guy? As far as I can recall, Qaddafi has never been a friend to the United States, and our government long ago identified him as a supporter of international terrorism. To Qaddafi’s chagrin, the Libyan air force tangled with ours on more than one occasion. And who knows what other nefarious plots Qaddafi has encouraged against us?
Did the reparations paid by Libya to the families of Flight 103 assuage their grief? And how must they feel about their government when it embraces the regime that murdered their loved ones?
Perhaps the Bush administration is hoping the “new” Libya will serve as an example to Iran and North Korea. But according to the CIA, Libya never possessed WMDs — so they’ve given up nothing. And Qaddafi, a ruthless dictator, remains in power. So much for our desire to encourage democracy around the world.
As for the human migration emanating from the Halls of Montezuma and points south, our best-laid plans to stem the influx will accomplish little. We can build a wall 100 feet high and 50 feet thick and still they will come. Moreover, the closing of our southern border is likely to strike the rest of the world as racist — which, of course, it is. I can imagine a future president of Mexico standing on the south side of the wall we intend to build and speechifying: “Mr. Bush, tear down this wall!”
And the brouhaha surrounding the use of English by Hispanics who are granted permission to live and work in this country is, no pun intended, so many wasted words. If the use of English is necessary to their remaining in the United States, the immigrants will learn the lingo. People speak and write the language in which they make money.
So yeah, we are, in a sense, back where we started. We may have occupied Mexico City in 1847, but with passage of time we find it impossible to halt the great invasion. We may have whipped the Barbary Pirates in 1807, but they’ve exacted their revenge and gotten away with it. All they had to do was wait.
Looking back on our history, it’s impossible not to speculate: What if we hadn’t fought the Civil War? Would slavery still exist? Would the South be part of the United States? How would the government of Vietnam be different if we hadn’t fought that dreadful war? Lord knows what questions we’ll be asking ourselves about the war in Iraq.
History is tapping us on the shoulder, and we are well reminded that all our vehement protests and meticulous planning will achieve little that isn’t better accomplished by the passage of time.
Stephen Smith can be reached at travisses@hotmail.com.
