Statesmen, not showmen

When Winston Churchill traveled to Normandy the week after the Allies invaded its shores, his security was nowhere as certain as his determination to go.

Two German panzer divisions pounded British positions just inland, and Hitler wasn’t giving in easily: He dispatched his 15th Army to Normandy, vowing the Americans and Brits would never liberate Europe.

Through the lens of history we forget how uncertain the war’s outcome was, even after the successful landings of D-Day. Churchill, a few months away from his 70th birthday, would go anyway.

He paced the now-famous beaches and took his lunch outdoors 4 miles behind the front line. He conferred with Gen. Dwight Eisenhower and other commanders, then returned across the channel aboard a British destroyer.

When last did today’s leaders enter a war zone so brazenly? When did [they] take so incalculable a risk?

Much has changed about war-fighting since 1944, but the need to see our political leaders as statesmen has not. Churchill’s day trip to the front may have been symbolic, but it was loaded symbolism. It carried great personal risk. It showed his solidarity with the thousands who fought and died there, plus the Allies’ intent to prevail when prevailing was far from clear.

When last did today’s leaders enter a war zone so brazenly? When did a president or presidential contenders take so incalculable a risk?

I recently learned from a former American official that many among the original field of GOP presidential contenders were invited to Iraq and Syria, to see the ground where ISIS has trod and been beaten back, to feel the humanitarian catastrophe left in its wake, the worst mass displacement of humanity since World War II. Zero have taken the challenge to make such a trip. Zero among the Democratic contenders, too. And the times President Obama has visited that battleground also is zero.

These political leaders have pledged to defeat ISIS, but not one has seen the terrain. None have walked among the homeless families who now extend from northern Iraq to the Atlantic shores of France. None have visited the cities emptied by ISIS in 2014 to see the wholesale destruction. None have witnessed firsthand the challenges our air forces and Special Forces face, though so far this year at least one American has died in that fight. It’s unconscionable, when you think about it.

Here’s the kind of itinerary laid out to several leading presidential contenders. Fly into Erbil, the capital of northern Iraq’s Kurdistan region, about 30 miles from the areas held by ISIS, or Islamic State. Visit the churches in the city still housing displaced families in spare rooms. Tour a refugee camp outside the city, like Baharka, where families who fled ISIS have been stowed for nearly two years. I suggest then heading west toward Dohuk, to spend time with Dr. Nezar Ismet, the governorate’s health minister. When I first spoke to Dr. Nezar last August, he was supervising thousands who had escaped or been freed from ISIS.

“If you have 100 persons from one village,” he told me, “you may have 75 who survived, and you will have 50 who are highly traumatized.”

In times of confusion and calamity, wouldn’t a show of humanity add luster on the campaign trail? Wouldn’t walking the streets, feeling the dust and lack of running water, seeing the vacant eyes of 13-year-old girls raped by Islamic militants do more than a podium and a lecture hall? Statesmen of old understood this.

Critics may fuss. The security is too thin; the risks are too great. I would argue, that’s the point. Further, I’ve done it. And that means just about anyone can.

In his post-war years, Gen. Dwight Eisenhower sometimes broke down in public. During the 1952 presidential campaign, Eisenhower spoke to an audience of World War II veterans. Recalling soldiers who died as a direct result of his orders, his grief so overwhelmed him he covered his face with a handkerchief.

In 1954, on the 10th anniversary of D-Day, President Eisenhower sequestered himself at Camp David but penned a written statement praising the “courage, devotion and faith which brought us through the perils of war.” He never mentioned that he was there. He didn’t have to.

Email mbelz@wng.org