One night SSG Robert Bales got up and went off by himself and murdered 17 sleeping civilians in two villages in Afghanistan. The news in the US has been full of it.
The neighbors said at first that there had to have been more than one person for there to have been that much killing. Some of that may have been Afghan pride; after all it’s a little embarrassing that one foreigner could take out so many men and their families by himself. And maybe he really didn’t do it all by himself. It will all come out in the trial. Something else the neighbors said later makes sense too, that the attack was an act of revenge for the killings of some US soldiers in the area. In a diffuse way it was. (Although now the Army says this is the first they’ve heard of these Army deaths or any such attack.) And if the Army had been willing to be completely cynical, it would have gone with that explanation, because it would have made sense to people in the area and the rest of the country and fit their moral code, specifically the tenet badal. But the act was an atrocity and a war crime and thus, and this is the telling point, a breach of discipline, so it has to be punished, and in a suitably public way so that discipline can be reinforced. Like the old saying goes, “the needs of the Army.”
The News Tribune in Tacoma has the right take on this. The nation is grinding up its Army. It is that simple. And the nation doesn’t know and seems not to give a shit. So much for all those conscience-salving, CYA yellow ribbons on bumpers.
This is what SSG Bales’ lawyer, John Henry Browne has to say:
“Browne told NBC: “I think the war is on trial.”
He told The Seattle Times: “These people are broken, and we’ve broken them.”
We have had ten years of overseas wars fought by a tiny fraction of the citizens of this country, often with several deployments. We have been sending people off to be broken and then act surprised and disgusted when they come back that way. Families and childhoods crumble, returning soldiers and Marines melt down and commit suicide, suffer from PTSD and commit crimes of violence, and the reaction is either indifference or dismissals – “Well, those are trained killers anyway.” The reaction is some halfwit at Madigan Army Medical center impugning PTSD diagnoses.
This is about the stage of the conversation where someone chimes in with “Well, that’s what we pay them for, isn’t it?” Money will buy anything – this is how a consumer or a whore thinks. It is not a serious comment, but it does indicate that the commenter is a consumer (of government services) rather than a citizen of the society. Oh, and all that concern about the taxpayers – the taxpayers wouldn’t have a pot to piss in in this oil-based economy if almost our entire military effort and defense budget weren’t focused on protecting the flow of oil. Everyone in this economy owes every cent they have to these people we treat as so disposable.
In this time of disposable soldiers and veterans and manufacturing workers I happened upon an old movie on Turner Classic Movies.
Gold Diggers of 1933 is a cultural icon, and a big art of its power is the political statement it makes. The title makes it sound like fluff when in fact it is anything but that. There are references to the Depression all through it and after all that it winds up with a poleax to the mid-section of a number about ignored WWI veterans and working men in general. Just rent it and watch the whole thing – it’s almost 70 years old now and it is still pretty devastating. In that last number Joan Blondell recites Remember My Forgotten Man and then Etta Motten sings it, and then there is a really moving dance number, I guess you’d call it.
Remember My Forgotten Man
I don’t know if he deserves a bit of sympathy
Forget your sympathy, that’s all right with me
I was satisfied to drift along from day to day
Till they came and took my man away
Remember my forgotten man
You put a rifle in his hand
You sent him far away
You shouted: “Hip-hooray!”
But look at him today
Remember my forgotten man
You had him cultivate the land
He walked behind the plow
The sweat fell from his brow
But look at him right now
And once, he used to love me
I was happy then
He used to take care of me
Won’t you bring him back again?
‘Cause ever since the world began
A woman’s got to have a man
Forgetting him, you see
Means you’re forgetting me
Like my forgotten man
I remember how even late into the 70s my grandmother would recall bitterly how GEN Macarthur had followed orders from a civilian, non-veteran president and fired on the men of the Bonus Army who came to Washington to claim the pensions they were owed. She said she had gloated over him when Truman fired him for insubordination in Korea. What an idiot Macarthur was, who couldn’t tell which orders to obey and which to disobey.
I almost forgot this part:
He used to take care of me
Won’t you bring him back again?
Even when you are asking for trhe most basic consideration of man’s humanity and human needs, you have to couch it in terms of his utility to a woman to get any kind of hearing. That was true in 1933 and not much has changed. Has it?
David Brooks moves in to forestall the natural and self-serving urge to demonize SSG Bales and somehow anyhow separate ourselves from and disavow this atrocity with a reminder about the reality of the basic human tendency towards homicidal violence. He is right on the money – there has been no end of attempts to smear SSG Bales as some kind of monster – domestic abuser (which his wife angrily rejects) , ooooh look, he had financial problems as a failed financial consultant – all self-serving demonization.
You are not going to wash this mess off yourself that easily.