http://cornellsun.com/node/29267
March 31, 2008 - 12:00am
By Perry OBrien
One student a veteran, conscientious objector and anti-war leader
tells his story.
--
Over the weekend of March 14, as most students were preparing for
spring break, something incredible happened in our nation's capitol.
For the second time in U.S. history, combat veterans from a current
war gathered to testify on immoral and illegal military policies they
had witnessed while serving abroad. The event, called Winter Soldier:
Iraq and Afghanistan, drew over two hundred veterans. Over three
days, veterans offered testimony on the killing of innocent
civilians, torture, waste, discrimination, sexual assault, fraud, and
the mutilation of the dead. Testifiers represented a broad swathe of
the military, having served in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Army and
Marine Corps, from the initial invasion to the surge.
The event took its name from the first Winter Soldier, held in a
Detroit hotel in 1971, which helped expose the atrocities of the
Vietnam War. Organizers from Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW)
named the event after the words of Thomas Paine, who in 1776
admonished the "summer soldiers" and "sunshine patriots" who treated
national service like a part-time job. During that first forum in
Detroit, members of VVAW asserted that they were continuing their
patriotic duty by exposing the realities of the war to the American public.
The time has come again for Winter Soldiers to speak out. Every day,
soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan are witnessing practices that are an
affront to both their individual consciences and the conventions of
international law. Returning home from war, most soldiers keep these
experiences to themselves. On the few occasions that they do discuss
the war, veterans tend to sanitize and gloss over their war stories
with the popular narrative of liberation.
In my view, this silence results from an unofficial "don't ask, don't
tell" policy in civil-military relations. Traditionally, American
citizens are told to unconditionally support their troops, to avoid
asking any real questions. For their part, soldiers are told that
civilians can't handle the truth, that they must be psychologically
protected from the realities of war. Instead of speaking out about
their experiences, veterans carry the full burden of their memories.
Wary of betraying their fellow soldiers, and even more scared that
their experiences will mark them as monsters, many veterans carry
their stories to the grave.
The cost of this policy of "don't ask, don't tell" is devastating.
While the media narrative continues uninterrupted, a generation of
veterans is being pushed to the margins of society. With inadequate
benefits and a profound feeling of being misunderstood, many soldiers
turn to self-medication and solitude. No wonder that veterans of Iraq
and Afghanistan are already showing up in homeless shelters, and are
two to four times more likely to commit suicide than their peers. The
consequences for our democracy are equally damaging. A civilian
population that remains ignorant of the realities of modern war can't
possibly hold their leaders accountable for the consequences of U.S.
foreign policy.
In the interest of breaking this "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy,
here's my story:
In 2003, I was deployed to Afghanistan as a medic with the 82nd
Airborne Division. My unit operated out of the Kandahar international
airport, which had been transformed into a temporary field clinic
shortly after the invasion. We ran sick call for U.S. troops,
operated the military equivalent of an emergency room and performed
"hearts and minds" missions in nearby villages. As part of the
humanitarian component of our mission, we also offered emergency care
to local civilians who had been involved in accidents or caught in
the crossfire between U.S. soldiers and Afghan resistance fighters.
As might be expected, many of our patients didn't survive. Rather
than preparing these corpses for burial, however, as was always done
with dead American soldiers, a different policy was followed for
Afghans. After dying, Afghan corpses were routinely used as teaching
tools for medical "practice."
The first time this happened, I was re-stocking one of our trauma
stations when I heard an officer yell out from the surgery room: "Who
wants to see what a human heart feels like?" Following surgery, the
patient's chest had been cracked open to reveal the thoracic cavity.
Soldiers were invited to come into the surgery room, don gloves, and
feel around inside the body. Some took pictures. It was an
informative lesson on human anatomy, but it was also a flagrant
violation of both the Hippocratic Oath and international law, to say
nothing of common sense morality. Imagine if you brought a family
member to the hospital, and they sadly passed away. Now imagine how
you would feel if you discovered that their body had been used,
without permission, for medical students to poke, prod and
photograph? This is particularly offensive in Islamic societies,
where the sanctity of the dead is protected by religious law. It's
also worth noting that this practice wasn't limited to anatomy
lessons. One patient was given three post-mortem chest tubes, an
emergency procedure designed to create a third airway through the
ribs. This amounted to nothing less than the mutilation of the dead.
My story is not an isolated incident, and I've spoken with medics in
Iraq who saw the same practice in Baghdad. It's not hard to see that
this kind of behavior resulted from a systematic dehumanization of
the local population, inevitable in any military occupation. By
seeing Afghans as less than human, my unit was able to practice on
their dead bodies, without permission, as if they were animals.
Obviously, this attitude results in more extreme abuses.
Veterans at Winter Soldier testified to a wide variety of abuses. As
the testimonial team leader for the event, I was responsible for
coordinating the collection, verification, and presentation of all
testimony, as well as ensuring that all testifiers received legal and
mental health counseling. Over one hundred veterans volunteered to
tell their stories, and from this body of testimony, several patterns
emerged. The first pattern I noticed was that many soldiers had seen
the implementation of extremely broad Rules of Engagement (ROE).
These rules, designed to prevent the unnecessary loss of life,
determine when soldiers can use lethal force. Many soldiers testified
that they had been told they were entering "free fire" zones, where
it was permissible to literally shoot anything that moved. Many of
these soldiers were told to carry "drop weapons" in their Humvees; if
they killed an innocent civilian, they would leave the weapon on the
body and call it a combatant.
As I already mentioned, the other common theme in the testimony was
dehumanization. Testifiers told stories of pervasive racism,
including among general staff, which translated into widespread
abuses in Iraq and Afghanistan. It's beyond the scope of this article
to describe the full range of testimony offered during the three days
of Winter Soldier. However, on April 15, Cornellians will get an
opportunity to see a live screening of select portion of Winter
Soldier. The viewing will take place at 7:00 PM in Lewis Auditorium,
Goldwin Smith, and be followed by live testimony and discussion with
members of Iraq Veterans Against the War. Alternatively, you can view
selections of the testimony on Iraq Veterans Against the War's
website (www.ivaw.org).
As I've suggested above, veterans who break the military code of
silence have to overcome a psychological gauntlet of guilt and fear.
Many are attacked by their former brothers and sisters in the
military, and some could be facing legal repercussions for their
testimony. I would encourage every member of the Cornell community to
meet the courage of these testifiers, to not ignore the words of
those who volunteered to fight. I won't mince words when I say that,
as much as it is our duty to come forward and tell our stories, it
your responsibility to listen.
---
Perry O'Brien served as a specialist with the 82nd Airborne, U.S.
Army, from 2001 to 2004. He was deployed to Afghanistan in 2003, and
honorably discharged as a conscientious objector. O'Brien is a member
of Iraq Veterans Against the War, and the testimonial team leader for
Winter Soldier: Iraq and Afghanistan. He can be contacted at po33@cornell.edu.
.