Skip to content

The Dogs of War are in Heat

The dogs of war are always in heat. They bark, they gnaw, they kill and breed. Civilisation a chimera, chewing through bones, tearing at flesh, the killers are never in defeat. No matter how well behaved they act, whatever laws claim to be their collar and what kennel of state they sleep from within. They bark for more. A hungry pack, they hunt, kill. They want more.

As a mob we tell ourselves lies, we pretend to be cultivated and wise. We look down on the savagery of ancient times, when tribes waged wars. They did it with bare hands, axes and clubs. We are sophisticated now with missiles, drones and helicopters. The Maxim gun, dynamite and atom bomb were meant to temper us but war found away, gave them bigger teeth.

Religion and ideology was meant to tame the spirit, to govern man, save our souls. Instead it became the reason to kill, a reason to die, the killers edge. “Never again!” they said at Nuremberg, beneath the dangling feet of Hitler’s men. Instead they bark, “Again!” “Again!”

Little boys rape for Joseph Kony, Jihadist’s behead, colonisers bomb, Crusaders torture and the civilised starve millions to death. We can watch it all online, a child’s cut from ear to ear in 4k. A babies severed head on your phone. They kill families wholesale, they always have but now with a hashtag. Progress. We see it, watch it. Pretend it’s not us, just another them. Most of you vote, put your hand out, how many slithers of silver to snuff a baby out? King and Kaiser are both the same. Ayatollah or President, whose more insane?

So cooler heads will prevail, so we are told. The mob, a gaggle of strangers vote for a man, he stumbles and slurs, empowered with a magic powers to press Pandoras button. Millions dead, with one push. No wand, or mystical potion. Just a blob of strangers at the ballot box. The right to rule, magically decide. No bones or soothsayers needed. Progress. By now even Prometheus would tire.

Ancient monuments once ran with blood, their ruins eroded from its gushing flows. Wise men punctured bellies, as the victims cried. They had to, otherwise no sun would rise. Now, the blood can fill rivers, thousands, millions all to die, does it matter? Now the knives are bigger, built by Raytheon, Lockheed-Martin and Sukhoi. They kill more. Progress.

Escalation, deescalation. You know the inevitable?

Hear them bark?

The bitch is in heat.

The dogs of war of whom you love to keep.

They don’t protect you, the love only war.

Published inAll Articles and EssaysPhilosophy, Society and LibertyWar, History and Foreign Policy