Immigration - The New Modern Warfare

Once upon a time, vast armies would invade nations or walled cities.  Often, two armies would go out into the open field to confront one another in mortal combat.  Artillery consisted of an array of archers shooting scores of arrows in unison or catapults projecting boulders or balls of fire over the walls.   Expendable soldiers could be used to man battering rams that would breach the gates of the city leaving its inhabitants helpless before the pillaging invaders.  But the most common form of combat consisted of men equipped with armor, shield, and sword.  These combatants would fight to the death while looking into the eyes of the one whom they had to kill lest they, themselves, die.  I suppose that the noble combatant was the one who, out of necessity, engaged in the conflict to protect his wife and children who, should the enemy win, would, no doubt, be raped, murdered or enslaved by the invading hoard.  As the battle would progress, General (or field-marshall) would direct the strategy from a safe distance.

Nowadays, there are many new forms of artillery.  We have drones for striking small “targets” and ICBMs for destroying big targets, like entire cities.  Out on the battlefield, I suppose the closest thing we have to hand-to-hand combat is tanks and guns capable of killing from a distance of several hundred yards.  It’s unlikely that anyone looks into the eyes of his enemy any more… not on the battlefield anyway.

Primitive armies, intent on invading nations that possess advanced weaponry don’t have the technologically to do so, so a new tactic had to be devised.  Women and children, who in the old days, would have helplessly fallen prey to a victorious invading army, could now be used as those expendable “battering rams” for busting open the gates of the metaphorical city.  The defenders are forced now to look into the eyes of, not the combatants, but of the “expendable” battering rams.  Indeed, righteous people cannot bring themselves to kill these battering rams!  The field-marshall of the invading hoard directing the battle from a distance knows that, so he anticipates that his target will let the invading hoards into the “city” where they will begin engaging in hand-to-hand combat.  And the field-marshall will direct the conflict from his lazy-boy with his remote while laughing “all the way to the bank.”  There’s one caveat ‘though.  He is the bank!

May I direct your attention, however, to yet another caveat, There is One who sits in the heavens.  He owns the bank.