The soldier's face was only about a foot away. "Give me the camera," he demanded. "Now!"

Iraq Diaries

People In Exile

"Open the door! Open the door!"

The soldier's face was only about a foot away. "Give me the camera," he demanded. "Now!"

My colleague Tom had been on our apartment rooftop moments before. He saw about 10 young soldiers playing with neighborhood kids. The soldiers swung the children into the air, earning giggles and shrieks of delight. Tom snapped a picture. "I wanted a photo so I could prove that soldiers do something more than just shoot people," he later explained.

The effect was instantaneous: within five seconds, five soldiers were at the door shouting for the camera.

"Let us in!"

Cliff fumbled for the keys. They pushed their way in as I asked them to please wait and not bring guns upstairs. Iraqis live in the upper apartments, and I was terrified that if our neighbors did not know what was happening they might shoot or get accidentally shot.

The soldiers would not listen, and they ran upstairs to retrieve the camera themselves. Tom went with them, while Cliff and I stayed behind to talk with the young man left to guard the door. His name was Billy, and he is a medic from Arkansas. Back home he has a wife and three children between ages one and 10. He hopes he will return to the States in four months, but almost anyone's tour can get extended against their will.

Billy was embarrassed about his fellow soldiers. "I think they're overreacting a bit," he said. The commander also was somewhat sheepish when he discovered that the culprits were American citizens and human-rights workers to boot. But even though this was a public place (i.e., not a checkpoint, where photographs are forbidden), "we don't let anyone take pictures of our humvees," he said. It is a matter of security.

They left, but I am left with questions. The problem is not that they wanted the pictures, nor that they wanted to come in and check the situation. It is how they did it: by brute strength, pushing, forcing, and shouting. No listening, no calm, no chance for communication. And this was a mild situation, not the trauma of a house raid or a gun battle in the streets.

These young people have been formed, by military training, to be hard, strong, and forceful. But how will they deal with conflict back home if their instinct now is to push, force, and shout rather than listen and seek the truth? Their formation is designed to save their lives. But is it worth one's life to lose one's heart?

How will they go back home?

Evan Wright, a journalist who was embedded with Marines during the 2003 invasion, recently interviewed a Marine who testified, "We are a subculture that [the American people] created and programmed to fight their wars. You have to become a psycho to kill like we do. . . . If the American public doesn't like the violence of war, maybe before they start the next war they shouldn't rush so much" (Village Voice 24, November 30, 2004).

According to a study conducted last year by the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research, 16 percent of Marines and 17 percent of Army soldiers showed symptoms of depression, anxiety, or post-traumatic stress disorder after returning from Iraq. Those figures are probably deceptively low due to the shame connected with reporting a psychological illness. Other soldiers experience increased rates of marital discord, high-risk behavior, and suicide attempts--all needing attention from a veterans' healthcare system that has received no new funding since the Iraq war began.

They are psychologically in exile, unable to fully return home.

. . . . .

Last week I visited a refugee camp full of Iraqi people exiled from Fallujah. As many as eight people at once squeezed into concrete cabins the size of walk-in closets. "My home is destroyed; I saw it with my own eyes," one woman wailed. "We have no homes, no rations, no money, no jobs, little electricity, no generators, and not enough kerosene for heaters or stoves. There is no hospital here, no school." A little girl I held in my arms had a deformed skull, too large for a six-month-old baby. I wondered how she would receive medical care.

All of the refugees were physically and psychologically damaged. Just as so many soldiers are physically and psychologically damaged.

Both are in exile. Both are refugees of war. How will they go back home?

There must be another way. We cannot ignore oppressive regimes or other forms of suffering and injustice. But we can learn to respond to them with nonviolent force, satyagraha, and organized nonviolent campaigns rather than with the present methods that maim bodies, minds, and souls.

Many soldiers, families, and others in the military are organizing for change. Check out any of the following groups. Consider what you could do to help--perhaps just pass the word that these groups exist.

We too are in exile, until all find a home.


Sheila Provencher, Electronic Iraq 2 January 2005

Christian Peacemaker Teams is an ecumenical violence-reduction program with roots in the historic peace churches. Teams of trained peace workers live in areas of lethal conflict around the world. CPT has been present in Iraq since October, 2002. To learn more about CPT, please visit http://www.cpt.org. Photos of CPT projects may be viewed at www.cpt.org/gallery

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