Illustration by Catherine Chan
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What if the only military recruits available were senior citizens? How would a war progress and how would it end?
If your army woke every hour during the night, how would they keep awake to fight? If every bone in their body ached, even without exertion, would they want to move or resist? If both sides only had the energy to grumble without raising their voice, let alone their arms, would people die? If you could not see the threats or hear the insults, would you take offence?
Once you have lived long enough to experience loss, once you have seen the devastating effects of war on others, once you finally realize how short life is and how insignificant you really are through the ages, there is little appetite for fighting. You fight each day to stay alive without a mortal enemy because death itself is your only opponent.
Can you hear the rattle of pill organizers as frail opponents meet? Can you see enemies sit for a moment to catch their breath, sharing stories of grandchildren and shared frustrations of parenting? Photos would be exchanged and knowing nods and smiles would happen as they realize just how much of life they recognize in each other. They would need to help each other up before they could knock each other down.
They would look to their young leaders and shake their heads in disbelief. Hulking guns would tumble to the ground and heavy helmets would fall. Ancient soldiers would meander away, perhaps sharing their mutual disillusion as they leave the battlefield together, perhaps just wandering away individually in search of peace and quiet.
Why would I give away what little time I have left? Those who have learned the value of life are not so eager to throw it away. Those who have learned to give up strength for wisdom already know which one is worth keeping. Those who know the pain of loss are not so willing to face it again. They have felt emptiness and learned to mourn. It is not a skill that they wish to perfect.
Old people are not afraid to die. They just do not want their enemy to be each other. It is hard enough to get through the day without personal pain. Why would you seek it out or celebrate it? How much can you own before you recognize frivolity and the knowledge that your children do not truly covet your material legacy? How much do you really need to live through one day at a time, and eventually, will it really matter in the long run?
Just take your years and live in peace. Share what you can and make others happy. Try not to hurt anybody and listen. Listen to what others think. Listen to how others feel. You may be surprised to learn that they are much like you. And if you have the honour of growing old, share what it feels like to have lived and loved and lost. The fighting was never worth it and now it is too hard to do. Celebrate life and not death. Death will come soon enough.
So yes, raise the draft age to commence at 75. Let us see who wants to heft the weight of an AK-47 or clamber breathlessly onto a rolling tank. Let us see who wants to march instead of stroll. Let us see who wants to jump out of a plane or drop a bomb on someone else’s children. Let us see who needs a toilet, as they meander on the battlefield. Let the old people decide who will die as they face it themselves. There is a reason that we all become weak and tired and weary of life. It teaches us to value it. It teaches us to just live it while we can. It teaches us the usefulness of peace.
Add bayonets to walkers, install tank treads on wheelchairs, give combat drones to the blind and radar to the deaf. Issue bandoliers to tote moisture-intense eye drops and provide light knapsacks to bear replacement arch supports, fresh compression stockings and Depends.
Ridiculous? Yes, but then so is war.
Linda Webster lives in Stratford, Ont.