‘War’ is a loaded word.
It carries baggage, history and emotion.
It evokes pictures and memories, from personal experience, or news articles,or art, or history.
A ‘war on police’ has been angrily, tearfully debated for at least five years now.
Writers who embrace the term choose it deliberately, and cite high profile conflicts, and line of duty death statistics to support it.
Video clips of activists carrying vulgar pickets, marching and calling out for the killing of cops, and quotes from political speeches defending them, filter through their articles and circulate on social media.
The writers who reject it cite their own statistics, full of rising survival rates over decades (without mention of influences like the invention of Kevlar), and anecdotes of police misconduct to support their position. Those writers vilify the term ‘war’ as hyperbolic and divisive:
How, they ask, can an officer who regards his community as the enemy–or even a potential enemy–truly act in their best interest?
Commentators and activists who reject the phrase ‘war on police’ most forcefully cite an ‘us v. them’ mindset, and the imagery of officers as soldiers, as opposed to ‘peace officers’ and ‘public servants’. Words like ‘oppressor’ are offset against concepts of protectors of their communities, and fellow citizens.
Dozens of the officers who have been shot, stabbed, beaten or run over in the recent past–some who recovered, some who died, and some who will battle pain and disability for the rest of their years–were military veterans.
‘War’ is a literal thing to them.
An entire generation serves in uniform now, who do not remember a time before we were at war abroad.
I think they have chosen the term ‘war’ for what they face in the streets at home because it does separate them, and set them apart. I have heard from vets, now law enforcement officers, who’ve said they feel more anxious here, now, than they did overseas.
There, they knew who their enemy was. They knew what they could expect. They knew their families faced no threat from that enemy. They knew when their deployment was over, they would fly home, and leave that enemy behind.
Now wearing a badge, they re-deploy every night, try their best to switch gears every morning to come home, and often find the streets have followed them home, to threaten their families as well.
Many officers fallen to gunfire are military veterans. They survived sandbox deployments to fall at the hands of fellow citizens in the streets.
If it’s war, then those are enemies– foreign, exotic, impossible to explain, separate.
If it’s not war, then officers will have to admit to themselves and the ones they love that it’s their neighbors who wish them gone, wish them harm, wish them dead.
I think it’s more than they can manage, to accept that, to try to explain that to their children or their parents.
I don’t like the phrase ‘war on police’. Loaded language makes people stop reading, stop listening , unless they already agree with you, and that’s part of the problem.
So, I don’t use it much.
But I can understand those who do.
I appreciate what you write…even as a 45 year old rural Deputy with only 3 years experience,(but a 20 year combat infantry retired veteran) a rual Deputy IS A FORCE to he reckoned with.
Thank you for taking the time– it's good to hear from you. Watch your six, sir, and wear your vest. Charlie P.