One of the things that elevates soldiers to the status of heroes is that they do not go into battles to save themselves. If they wanted to save themselves, they might be better off staying home. They do try to stay alive, of course. We want them to do that, and to come home safe. But that's not their mission.

The mission of a soldier is not expressed as “Whatever happens, don't get hurt. It's just not that important.” Their mission is more like “Get the job done, even at risk to yourself.” And the essence of true heroism is the conscious choice to carry out that mission, the willingness to risk great sacrifice for an even greater societal good.

Often during the election season, I would hear the news reports refer metaphorically to soldiers in battle when really they were describing politicians. The Senators are not going to die on the Senate floor, we trust, but metaphor doesn't require literal equivalence. Still, I would hear phrases in these reports like “fighting for their political lives.” Presumably within the metaphor, their political lives are sustained by reelection. But that's where the metaphor breaks down, because these fights for their political lives do not involve the one thing I admire so much in our soldiers—the willingness to risk personal sacrifice for a greater good.

Reporters seem to just smile and allow themselves to go with the natural flow of the imagery, dutifully punching the phrases with hinted admiration, as if describing some real battle. They allow their own words to lead them, when it should be the opposite. Words are just a tool to express a thought, not a roller coaster ride one boards in hopes of discovering a thought.

Meanwhile, or perhaps because they believe the imagery, too, it seems that politicians lose sight of why they're in office. They forget they are there to do something for us, not for themselves. But worse, they try to rally fellow politicians to their personal, selfish cause, amplifying the problem.

I mention this because I keep hearing that this or that political leader, trying to round up votes on an important issue, couldn't called upon this or that rank-and-file politician to do what was needed in a vote because it might mean that politician won't be reelected. That's like a general catering to the need of a captain who won't lead his troops into a critical battle because he might get hurt. It's not how wars are conducted, and it's not how heroes are made.

Make no mistake, these are wars we fight. The grand triumph of the American political system is that we fight our wars bloodlessly. The United States accomplishes a complete ideological change of regime on a routine basis—without bloodshed. That's a Really Big Deal. However, in creating a nation capable of such a feat, we did little more than adopt a novel procedure for settling our differences. Human nature itself remained the same. People's blood still sometimes boils. It's just that when it does, we wage political wars instead of military ones.

Indeed, the mention of “second amendment remedies” is so dangerous exactly because there's so much real anger about, waiting to be sublimated. It's perhaps a pity that we don't pledge allegiance to the Constitution, rather than to the flag, since there are days where it seems that document is all that stands between us and chaos. Fortunately, at least for now, the very same people who lately threaten use of such “remedies” are quick to remind us that it's the Constitution they so revere. Let's hope so.

Under our Constitution, our cultural battles and sometimes outright wars are fought metaphorically by our “soldiers” in Congress. We expect these wars to be civil to avoid a real life civil war, but we don't expect them to be without personal cost. It's nice when things are amicable, but it's too much to ask. Sometimes it's enough that they aren't drawing real pistols.

The metaphorical battle field is as complex as a real battlefield, with position gained and lost through negotiation and compromise. If the focus of this negotiation drifts away from issues important to our nation, becoming a negotiation about matters that serve our politicians, no one is served. At that point, the warriors have become mercenaries, and are susceptible to influence from the highest bidder—perhaps someone on the other side, perhaps someone hiding out of sight in the shadows. Once the battle becomes about mercenaries, all hope of heroic action is left torn and trampled in the metaphorical mud.

Now it's true that the soldier metaphor breaks down slightly for politicians in that each politician is responsible to their own district, which may have slightly different tastes. Depending on their actions, and sometimes even the outcomes, our politicians may not be reelected within those districts—they may instead be put to death, at least politically, if you're following the metaphor. We're a fickle bunch, you see, and thank goodness we don't treat our real-life soldiers that way.

But it is just a metaphor and really our politicians come back to ordinary lives after their “political deaths.” They aren't forced to live out their real lives with PTSD or missing limbs, all the while wondering if the political soldiers in Washington will succeed in acquiring health care for them. That would be too cruel. We reserve that fate for our real heroes. Our political soldiers are assured the very best in health care and pensions. So maybe we don't treat them so badly after all. Metaphors, as you see, can be tricky things, as likely to obscure the truth as to reveal it—unless you're careful.

And that's my point here really. Let's use metaphors to reveal what needs to be revealed, but not let's not let the mere desire for powerful imagery hijack the overall message. If we insist on mindlessly describing all politicians through reference to soldiers in battle, such words may be quickly bled dry of any ability to highlight the true heroism we see in only some of these people.