Aggression (n.) by one's own country is unstatable: thirty years of American papers never once said the U.S. attacked South Vietnam.
Aggression (n.) is the supreme international crime, because it holds within itself the accumulated evil of all the rest.
Aggression (n.) always comes dressed as self-defense: Hirohito told his people Japan went to war only to preserve itself and stabilize East Asia.
Aggression (n.) included, as US planners defined it for Vietnam, "internal aggression" — the people of a country resisting the regime imposed on them.
Aggression (n.) is what Americans do not like to think of themselves as committing — yet raw aggression is what took place in Iraq.
Aggression (n.) by one's own country is, in cultivated opinion, a logical impossibility — so its critics must be partisans of the other side.
Aggression (n.) is any response to US action, since US actions are defensive by definition — so Nicaragua guarding its airspace with old MiGs became the threat.
Aggression (n.) based on mere supposition is still aggression: the FBI admitted, months after the bombing began, it could only surmise who planned 9-11.
Aggression (n.) is what other countries commit: by normal usage the U.S. war in Vietnam qualified, yet no mainstream editorial or news report ever called it that.
Aggression (n.) can be called by its name only when the other side commits it; whoever applies the word to his own country's war is filed among "the wild men in the wings."
Aggression (n.) can, in official language, even be committed by a people inside its own country: "internal aggression."
Aggression (n.) as man's fixed nature becomes a suspicious doctrine when it surfaces in a society that prizes competition and has a long record of brutality toward weaker peoples.