I first became aware of Fentanyl a few years ago as part of an “end of life” question in hospital. There I was told that Fentanyl is a powerful, even dangerous drug and everything I have seen since supports that view. Police officers and other first responders now must carry NARCAN in their vehicles to treat other officers who may inadvertently come into contact with Fentanyl while searching a person or a vehicle.

Over the weekend came news that the Nebraska State Patrol arrested two men for transporting with intent to deliver enough Fentanyl to kill 26 million people. That is extraordinary. Obviously, we are grateful to the authorities for doing their job and glad that the officers who came into contact with this deadly drug were not themselves injured, which is a very real possibility in such cases.

I first became aware of Fentanyl a few years ago as part of an “end of life” question in hospital. There I was told that Fentanyl is a powerful, even dangerous drug and everything I have seen since supports that view. Police officers and other first responders now must carry NARCAN in their vehicles to treat other officers who may inadvertently come into contact with Fentanyl while searching a person or a vehicle. It is so powerful that there is concern that the gloves they ordinarily wear for such searches may not be sufficient to protect them.

My concern here, however, is not so much public safety and public policy as it is to ask what it means that Americans are apparently consuming such powerful drugs in such quantities. That shipment of Fentanyl was, in effect, a weapon of mass destruction. What on earth is happening?

A partial explanation is illustrated by a 1943 documentary I saw on Saturday. The Spring cold that has been circulating in our area finally tracked me down. So spent a beautiful Saturday in front of the television watching war films. One of them was particularly striking, December 7th a documentary shot by the great cinematographer Greg Toland and directed by John Ford about the Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor. The film was apparently censored by the War Department and not released in full until 1991. I had never seen it before. The film is cast as a dialogue between Uncle Sam and Mr Conscience, who raises questions about the American response to the attack, including the war-time internment of Americans of Japanese descent.

One of the more striking features of the film is its patent assumption of and unashamed appeal to a shared Christian faith. It refers to Sunday as “the Sabbath” without explanation of what a Sabbath is and how the Christian Sabbath differs from the Jewish Sabbath. At one point the narrator says, without apology, “our faith teaches us…”. We may be sure that few blanched at such language in 1943. Indeed, such language was common during my childhood in the 1960s and early 70s. In post-Christian America, however, to hear such language used sincerely, without irony, is remarkable indeed. My point is not to justify such assumptions but only to note the difference between then and now.

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