Personal wars, not the kind of wars fought between nations or non-state terrorists, but the interpersonal kind between people, that is what I'm pondering today.
Lord knows I have fought enough of these wars, ruinous, destructive in their own way, costly in terms of time, emotional wear and tear, reputation, social and political capital. Most readers know that I have an ongoing war of sorts with Asimov's current editor. Most readers probably know I have an even longer war with That Market Which Shall Not Be Named Here. Then there are the self appointed politically correct fascists in the field of science fiction and fantasy, the same sort that Ray Bradbury complained about in his coda to F-451 long before their were a term called politically correct.
I fought personal wars with my sergeants in the Army to include a particularly nasty and vicious war which nearly destroyed my career during my year in Korea. I have fought such wars with my college instructors, notably a college philosophy instructor who rose to a position of some prominence and in turn, I believe, blocked me from teaching for six years.
I am actually pretty good at fighting these wars. I can win the tactical victory, engage in the war of attrition, slowly wearing my opponent, hammering them with invective, snide remarks, valid criticism and biting honesty which illustrates their flaws.
I am so good at fighting these wars that what I frequently hear from my opponents or people on the sidelines is, "Yeah, Murph, you've got a point. You are right about that."
Which led to my frequent response, "I'm tired of being right, why don't you fucking fix it?"
Aside from feeling wiry and amped after these battles, I never saw any real cost to these wars. I figured it was better than doing what so many people do when they are being screwed, blued and tattooed by people taking advantage of them, which is to do nothing at all.
Don't rock the boat. That is what Trinity's soon to be ex-husband likes to say. Don't rock the boat.
Which in my mind may as well translate into, "Just hand them the vaseline."
Cicero once said that money provides the sinews of war. At an intellectual level I have always understood this. The weapon I was issued in the Army was paid for by the US Taxpayer, as was my uniform, ammunition and the like. I couldn't afford to purchase that gear and field myself in the way an Athenian Hoplite might.
Conversely, here in the last year or so, I began to realize that personal wars, even if they don't cost any money to fight, even if they don't result in jail sentences or felony convictions, cost something in order to fight them.
Case in point. Once upon a time I think it is safe to say that I had a fair amount of social capital built up in the American Science Fiction Community. I built it up with my contributions to Asimov's Forum, which didn't always entail flamewars though toward the end it got that way. I had enough capital that I was able to fight limited conflicts with some of the known assholes of the community.
Thing is, these conflicts grew to consume my time and attention. They cost increasing amounts of social capital which I was not replacing. And while I may have been winning the battles, I was most certainly losing the war to win the hearts and minds of the members of the community.
I made one other mistake during those wars.
I felt that publication provided me with additional capital and prestige with which to take the war to the next level.
It didn't. Instead, publication raised the bar on what was expected of my conduct. It was okay to behave a certain way as an aspirant, but quite another to behave that way as a published writer.
And it didn't matter that many of the things I was fighting against, going to war over, were valid causes.
There are bullies in the field who use political correctness as a means of hammering anyone who disagrees with them into silence. Some of these bullies have no problem with attacking people when they are ill, or when they are well established, respectable members of the community like Gardner Dozois.
I suppose the good news about these wars is that I have been a great deal more careful about which hill I decide to fight and die on in my academic career. There aren't many wrongs or causes where I work. To be honest, teaching at a local community college is one of the best jobs I have ever had. I have a Boss I respect who in turn gives me the freedom to run my classroom as I will (within reason).
I try to run my personal life on the same principle. Do I really need to fight and die on this hill today? Do I really need to object to this?
Maybe something to consider is this.
What if you wanted to start a war with Steven Francis Murphy? How would you go about doing it?
Here is a list.
1. Lie to me.
I hate liars. I hate people who lie even when they don't have to. Yes, everyone tells lies, and I've been known to tell a few (in fact, so few that I can remember most of them, why I told them and when).
One example of a lie which might start a war is to ask me to do something for you, let's say provide free child care. You might state that you are working all weekend and thus need someone to watch the kids.
Then let me find out that on Saturday night you are out getting hammered. Which leads me to wonder why you couldn't be bothered to spend time with your kids on a Saturday night?
2. You don't play straight with me.
This is the classic reason for the war with Asimov's current editor. Without rehashing the whole story, I had a story that nearly sold, was asked to rewrite it (the instructions were muddy) and then rejected by the previous editor who, if he had still be in charge, would have bought it.
Don't give me the runaround.
3. False accusation.
From time to time I have been accused of things which are patently untrue. As a general rule, I'll fight this sort of thing whether I have the capital to fight it or not.
4. Take advantage of me or someone I care about, repeatedly.
Trinity and I presently have a situation with one of her daughters, who apparently thinks that child care is an entitlement. We watch her two children (whom we both love) while the daughter goes out and gets hammered. I've been told this daughter is working but I, frankly, don't believe it anymore. Yesterday I checked this daughter's facebook profile and found one of those promotional invites to something called Sinful Saturday, which took place last night down in Lee's Summit.
I'm not an idiot and I simply refuse to believe that this individual went home and enjoyed a quiet evening with her father in front of the television set. I'm not going to be a party to this.
5. Attack my personal or professional reputation.
That is pretty much the list. I'm sure there are things I have forgotten but I am actually pretty easy to get along with if you remember to tell the truth, be straight with me and don't fuck with me or the people I care about.
As of today I posted at Trinity's facebook, where her family members including this particular daughter can see it, that we are getting out of the free child care business. I didn't want to do this. I've been warning for months that I would take precisely this course of action if I so much as thought this daughter was doing anything but working.
Turns out we're enabling a party lifestyle. And perhaps I could swallow that, maybe, if the two children in question came with sufficient clothes, underwear, food and car seats. This weekend we were left without car seats and they are too small to be without them.
And what particularly makes me angry is that the boy in this situation spends the bulk of his time with his father. When he comes over on the weekends to be with his mother, it seems, strangely enough, without fail, that this mother has to work.
Work, then get hammered. Go to work again on Sunday.
You know, if I had more freedom as a science fiction writer, I'd write this situation up as a sort of science fiction story and send it off to market. But I know better than to do that. No market will touch a story that portrays a single mother in an unflattering light, even if it is an honest, accurate reflection of an ongoing trend in our present day society.
So it goes. I've got it off my chest. Now maybe I can get ready for classes tomorrow.
Hopefully this war will end before it even gets started. I neither have the time or the capital to fight such a conflict. I'm not angry at Trinity or the two children in question but my gut tells me that I'm looking at collateral damage if this goes on for any length of time.
Maybe another way to look at it is to picture the mother holding a gun to the heads of her two kids.
"If you don't watch them for me while I get hammered, I'll shoot them." Or in this case, "I'll make sure you never see them again."
Ah, but the status quo can not continue unabated either. Someone's got to put their foot down.
I guess it'll have to be me.
Respects,
Steven Francis Murphy
Author of The Limb Knitter and Tearing Down Tuesday
North Kansas City, Missouri