Excerpt from Tiqqun’s: This is not a Program

“Contrary to what THEY have told us, the warrior is not a figure of plentitude, and certainly not of virile plentitude. The warrior is a figure of amputation. The warrior is a being who feels he exists only through combat, through confrontation with the Other, a being who is unable to obtain for himself the feeling of existing… The warrior is in fact driven by a desire, and perhaps one sole desire: the desire to disappear. The warrior no longer want to be, but wants his disappearance to have a certain style. He wants to humanize his vocation for death. That is why he never really manages to mix with the rest of humankind: they are spontaneously wary of his movement toward Nothingness. In their admiration for the warrior can be measured the distance they impose between him and them. The warrior is thus condemned to be alone. This leaves him greatly dissatisfied, dissatisfied because he is unable to belong to any community other than the false community, the terrible community, of warriors who have only their solitude in common. Prestige, recognition, glory are less the prerogative of the warrior than the only form of relationship compatible with his solitude. His solitude is at once his salvation and his damnation.

The Warrior is a figure of anxiety and devastation. Because he isn’t present, is only for-death, his immanence has become miserable, and he knows it. He has never gotten used to the world, so he has no attachment to it; he awaits its end. But there is also a tenderness, even a gentleness about the warrior, which is this silence, this half-presence. If he isn’t present, it is often because otherwise he would only drag those around him into the abyss. That is how the warrior loves: by preserving others from the death he has at heart. Instead of the company of others, he thus often prefers to be alone, and this is more out of kindness than disgust. Or else he joins the grief-stricken pack of warriors who watch each other slide one by one towards death. Because such is their inclination.

In a sense, the society to which the warrior belongs cannot help but distrust him. It doesn’t exclude him nor really include him; it excludes him through its inclusion and includes him through its exclusion. The ground of their mutual understanding is recognition. In according him prestige society keeps the warrior at a distance, attaching itself to him and by the same token condemning him…”

A Train at Sunset

As the train rattles through the countryside I look out upon the fields of green and the purple mountains off in the distance. My mind takes in the beauty of this ancient feeling place. As the sun prepares to set the sky shimmers with red, pink, purple and blue. We slowly roll up to a farm in which an old man, lean yet sturdy, puts down his hoe and rests it against his shoulder. He looks up at the train and wipes his brow, and from under his hat you can see a slight reflection of his eyes as they catch the sight of the train. He raises his hand and starts to wave at the train. My mind begins to wonder, what is this old man waving at? Am I the only one who sees this? Is he waving at me?

            His hand moves slowly back and forth as if he sees someone he knows. Perhaps a child on the train waving at him, or maybe a loved one who will be getting off at the next stop. Maybe danger lies ahead and like a grim reaper he is bidding us farewell from this plane of existence, or maybe just me. The old man continues to wave expressionless as the train rolls by. Perhaps he waves at all the trains. Like a child seeing a train, running next to it waving at the conductor, hoping for a whistle. Has this man lived here his whole life? Digging in the field, waving at passing trains. His old eyes have seen much, seen many passing trains, some with people on it, some with cargo. Does he wave at the trains with no one on them, or does he hope for someone to see him and wave back, to remember him. Is he alone? When war saw this land he was a young man. Did he fight? Did he hide? Did he lose his family?

            I open my eyes and look out the window to the fields of green and purple mountains in the far distance. I look for the waving old man but cannot find him. Was I asleep and dreaming? It felt so real. Perhaps he was a figment of my imagination. As the train rounds the bend I look out and see the old man standing there, but this time he is not waving he just stares, holding the hoe staring at the train, staring at me.

Veterans' Day 2013

As we approach Veterans’ Day, my stomach turns as it normally does this time of year, for the longest time I wasn’t exactly sure why Veterans’ Day bothered me so much. At times I thought that it was just a push back against the Army, but I think I have finally put my finger on it. It’s not that I hated my experience in the military because that would be a lie, since there were amazing aspects, and I would do it all again since it made me into the person I am today. Yeah perhaps I would change a thing or two but that is neither here nor there, I realized that what disturbs me is not the military but rather society that disturbs me so much.

            Some of it is the blind fascist patriotism that comes with Veterans’ Day, not of the vets, but as I said, of society. Sure some vets display this blind patriotism as they see themselves as some kind of hero, but those are mostly the REMF’s (Rear Echelon Mother Fuckers) and the Fobbits (people who never leave base when deployed). Yes, I value these soldiers just as much, and I have no doubt that these folks can be just as traumatized by war as those of us who were outside the wire everyday getting blown up and shot at everyday, but there is something different that happens when your life is on the line everyday, you get a different perspective, you become a turtle, most of those who do not deal with that constant level of violence, well they are ducks. Turtles have that hard shell and know when to duck and cover in it. Ducks follow the leader no matter where the leader goes, no matter how incompetent the leader is… the duck follows. This analogy can be applied in multiple areas of life, and there are many, who have never seen this sort of violence but are born turtles (they are very few and far between though), but again I digress and that is neither here nor there.

            Returning to this blind fascist patriotism in Veterans’ Day. It is blind because it is something that never gets examined. Why are you thanking a Veteran? Many say some reason like, “thanks for fighting for our freedom.” Really? I fought for your freedom? Or was I really fighting so some military contractor can maintain their billion-dollar contract, or so that oil companies can maintain their ties to the Middle East, or so that some politician could get reelected. Yeah I wasn’t consciously fighting for those things, but in the end that’s why we are there. Not for your freedom, which by the way is another thing that really pisses me off.

            Many of the people who thank vets for fighting for their freedom are assholes. In all honesty, if I was fighting for your freedom, if there was some tyrannical evil enemy that truly threatened the US and I had to fight them, I sure as shit wouldn’t be doing it for YOUR freedom, because you want to have the freedom to say stupid racist shit, or because you want the freedom to trash our environment, or because you want the freedom to do whatever the fuck you want because you are a privileged dumbass American. Fuck that, that is definitely not something I would ever fight for. Sadly, that is what I see when I look around America today. Yes there are a lot of great people doing great things; I am fighting for them, not for dumb rednecks, not for people who don’t want to pay taxes. You don’t want to pay taxes, move to Rwanda.

            I got out of the military and continued to fight, just not with a weapon anymore, but rather through activism and through education. Do you know who my enemy is now? It’s those in this country who would rather destroy it than make it better. My enemy is those who care more about their own personal gain than the betterment of the community. My enemy is those who lie, cheat, and steal from their fellow citizen in order to get ahead. No the government is not my enemy, but there are many within it and around it that could be seen as my enemy. We need a higher standard of how we live our lives, how we talk to others, and how we manage our communities.

            I would rather be thanked for what I do now, rather than what I did while I was in the military. I am ashamed of what I did in the military. I’m ashamed of what the military has done, and is still doing. I’m not angry or upset with the soldiers, except those who have no moral consciousness and/or think that it’s ok to assault those within its own ranks, no I am mad at those who are in charge in the military. Most of the enlisted soldiers are there because they didn’t have much of a choice, whether they realize it or not. Yes, thank you for serving your country, but not for fighting in the bullshit wars overseas. Everyone should serve their community and/or country in some way, it doesn’t have to be in the military, in fact I think it would be better if it weren’t in the military. PeaceCorps, AmeriCorps, volunteers throughout communities, in hospitals, activists fighting for communities, thank those people. They are serving America.

            All Veterans’ Day is, is a way for people to pretend like they really care, to show that they are “American,” and so that they can feel good about themselves. Yeah? Well what the hell have you done for America lately? Hell what have you done for your community? Or maybe just a neighbor? Or for an actual vet? So instead of saying some hollow words, or putting a stupid yellow ribbon on your car (Which by the way, ALL VETERANS FUCKING HATE THE YELLOW RIBBON), go do something for someone other than yourself! Share the burden of being a citizen in this country. And stop being a goddamn dumb racist sexist elitist duck!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!?

Here's another writing I did at the Philly Warrior Writers last week... 

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June 9^th 2000: The Devils win the Stanley Cup!

Garett’s carrying a keg above his head.

This place is CRAZY!

June 9^th 2001: Twenty one! Limousine! Downtown Denver!

Avs beat the Devils in the Stanley Cup!

The Hungry Strangers are born!

June 9^th 2002: Wow this year has been crazy!

Joined the Army, 9/11 happened, Went to basic

No we’re in Germany drinking at O’shea’s for our Birthday

June 9^th 2003: Kosovo, this place is hell!

Cold in the winter, hot in the summer...

What the Fuck are we doing here?

June 9^th 2004: Damn, I wish we were back in Kosovo, Iraq sucks!

130 degrees outside...

And guess what, getting shot at on he birthday! Fuck!

June 9^th 2005: Been out of the military for 9 days. Should I be happy?

My grandmother’s in the hospital and is going to die.

Why don’t I feel anything?

June 9^th 2006: One more drink to help me forget

One more pill to kill the pain

Fighting for the numbness, that I hate so much...

June 9^th 2007: It gets better, if you let it.

It gets better if you try.

Begin to put the pieces together and remake sense of everything

Bait

This past weekend I was in Philly and was at a Warrior Writers workshop, here is one of the things I wrote:

OP-ORDER: Transfer prisoners from FOB Abu Ghraib to FOB Warhorse.

…Ahhh shit, not again… last week we got ambushed doing the same mission. Sgt. Carter’s truck fot hit by an RPG, we probably killed 20 Iraqis…

“Schrader, you’re the only one in the platoon with a 5-ton liscense. You’re driving, the big boy… Sorry, there’s no armor on it, but we’ll give you McCray and a 50 cal., we’re picking up about 30 Iraqi prisoners.”

…Fuck… Oh well…

Mission pick up a bunch of insurgents with Fuckin A McCray as my gunner…

We made it to Abu Ghraib with no problems… Not sure why Capt’n Jimmy James (AKA James James… moron), and Top came along… Though they were chuckling something about trigger time… naw…

“Let’s go to Victory, to the Big PX” …As if it’s a treat, since it was on that route that we got ambushed last week… “load up all the vehicles,” “wait, why the 5-ton?”

…And then it hits me, I’M THE BAIT… They did come for trigger time, and why not bring along a 5 ton to give the Iraqi’s something to shoot at…

We pass the place where we were ambushed the week before with no incident. My blood begins to boil. Everyone shops while I sit in the 5-ton chain smoking Marlboro Reds… Time to head back to Abu Ghraib. We seem to be going slower than before, my temperature rises even more. Safe again, and back at Abu Ghraib.

“Looks like we’re only taking back 2 prisoners.”

I explode, “What the Fuck? Two Fucking prisoners?” My platoon Sgt. knows why I’m angry and takes the brunt of my anger, “Your telling me those fucking cocksuckers couldn’t have called ahead and the whole time I was just bait for their fucking trigger time? Fuck them, fuck the Army, fuck this mission, and fuck this fucking place…"

10 Years...

10 years ago today I was on a plane. I was flying from Kosovo to Germany, Germany to Chicago, Chicago to Denver. I was scheduled for a two week leave from the peacekeeping mission that was supposed to be only six months long but was extended for another three months since our replacements were being sent to Iraq.
In the lead up to the war, I was following the news very closely. I listened to every speech given by President Bush, every speech by Colin Powell, I even printed out the transcripts and highlighted the reasons they said we needed to invade Iraq. If everything they said was true, we needed to go there, or at least so I thought. I was hoping Saddam Hussein would negotiate and work with UN inspectors. Little did I know, none of it mattered. I hoped that we would not go to war with Iraq, but as the days passed, it seemed more and more inevitable.
On my way home for my leave, I was delayed overnight in Chicago because of a bad blizzard in Denver. I ended up getting a hotel near the airport, and walked to a near by sports bar, but no sports were on the TVs. On every TV the initial invasion into Iraq was playing. As everybody sat, enthralled with images of war, my heart sunk and there was a gut wrenching feeling as I knew I would eventually be sent to this war zone. The guy sitting next to me saw my military ID and decided to buy all my drinks and food that evening, which I was grateful for, but it was all so surreal at the time.
The two weeks home was more tense than I would prefer, as everyone I knew would constantly ask about Iraq, which I was trying not to think of. Really I had no idea what to say about Iraq since all I knew was what was told to me and my information was just as good as theirs. I would return to Kosovo for four months and then we headed back to Germany. Within a month we were told we would be headed to Iraq in February 2004.
I continued to learn as much as I could about the situation in Iraq, constantly returning to the reasons we were being told we were going to Iraq. Slowly, those reasons began to make less and less sense as I learned more. There were no WMD's, there were no links to al-Qeada or 9/11, we were not seen as liberators, we were not helping to rebuild the Iraqi infrastructure, etc. It all felt like one big lie. My time in Iraq would confirm that. At no time did I feel like I was liberating anyone there, at no time did I feel like I was saving lives. Throughout my year in Iraq I became more bitter and angry about the reasons we were sent there. I go into more depth about all this in other blogs, so I will spare you from the repetition...
I guess what I really wanted to talk about today on the 10th anniversary of the Iraq war invasion, is partially a reflection, partially trying to parse out some of what I know and have learned... Over the last 10 years, many have died, some US soldiers, and many more Iraqi's. While we are no longer in Iraq en masse, there is still no stability within Iraq, and we are still feeling the effects of the war. Those who are most effected are obviously the Iraqi's, as they still struggle to live a life free of violence. The veteran's are also trying to shake the violence of war. Many have come home from Iraq physically, but mentally they are still fighting a war. Many turn to drugs and alcohol, many turn to suicide. Meanwhile the American people turn their backs on the veterans as the VA is severally underfunded. Sexual assault and violence within and around the military has reached epidemic levels, yet it is not of concern to most Americans.
This violence is intimately linked to masculinity and militarism. We continue to perpetuate this misogynist violence throughout our culture, we continue to militarize all strata of society. The question is why? What is it about violence and masculinity that we hold so dear? Why do we continue to believe that militarism is good for us? Is this what we want for our children? Is this the future they should have?
I know I often have a utopian view point, which is often unhealthy since it sparks my rage, but why must people be so afraid to want something better? I see the gun debate fueled by fear. I see politics fueled by fear. It is the constant fear that continues to push us to an unhealthy society, which could be our undoing.
I feel like I'm  rambling at this point and no longer remember what I wanted to originally say, so I will close out. Before I do though, I want to return to the 10th anniversary of the Iraq war. This week has been very emotional for me. The war was bullshit, as most of them have been over the past 60 years. Yet we remain complicit in these acts of aggression. I urge you to demilitarize! Look at every aspect of your life, and look at how you are complicit with violence. Look at how you can change those acts that perpetuate inequity, misogyny, fear, hate, and war. Stand up and speak out! Don't be afraid, don't be complicit! Yeah, you may lose some friends, but you may gain some, but more importantly, you may help change the world! Who knows, it's worth a shot right?