Humanizing the US Military

One the Jordanian professors who taught me last semester has become a pretty good friend. He was educated in the West, has a good mind for international relations and foreign policy, and used some excellent books in his class. This semester he is teaching a course on American Foreign Policy and asked for my help gathering resources and finding guest speakers.

A few weeks ago I was privileged to invite a friend who is a Ranger in the US Army. He has plenty of on-the-ground experience in Afghanistan and Iraq, including time at the Coalition Provisional Authority, so I knew he could talk about the motivations and goals of US leadership in the aftermath of the Iraq invasion. He could show these students that, while the US invasion was ill-conceived in many ways, Americans are largely driven by good (if sometimes naive) intentions. I also trusted my friend to tell the truth from his own experience. Honesty, more than anything else, is what I hoped my friend could bring.

My friend did the right thing and coordinated his visit through his organization's force protection office. This required a couple very frustrating weeks, and when the approval finally came, there were strings attached. He wasn't supposed to mention anything about being active duty military. He wasn't supposed to talk about what he was doing in Jordan. He wasn't supposed to share his own opinions or speak too much from his personal experience. When his commander told me this, I wrestled to find a response that wasn't insubordinate. What could he talk about? The commander who passed these instructions on from the security office--a good guy with a good head on his shoulders--softened a little, told us to just use common sense, and to avoid giving details that would make him a target.

By the way, I should mention the composition of this class: eight nice, sweet girls who speak fluent English, are in a master's degree in American Studies, and are hungry to learn.

On the drive to the university my friend and I discussed these conditions, and what he would and wouldn't say. We agreed that it was prudent to avoid discussing details of his present time in Jordan, but decided that it was essential to be open about his current Army affiliation. He had toyed with the idea of saying he was now working as a contractor, but I laughed and told him that they would hear "Blackwater" which is a hundred times worse than the Army. We agreed that openly discussing his military identity was a foundation for trust and honesty, and the whole reason he was invited as a speaker.

My friend did a fantastic job. We had planned for a 30 minute lecture and 30 minutes of questions. After an hour of enthusiastic questions from the girls, we took a break and then resumed for another hour. My friend talked about his experiences in the US military, and then took questions all across the board. What is the US vision for Iraq and Afghanistan? How has our strategy changed? What lessons has the US learned? What is the relationship like between the military and other branches of the US government? My friend discussed counterinsurgency, provincial reconstruction teams, empowerment of local government, and everything else under the sun. These young ladies were hungry to learn, and while they retain a lot of skepticism towards US policy, I could sense that some of their views were being challenged. During the break, a couple girls continued to pepper him with questions.

My friend really shone towards the end of the evening, when the questions got personal and he spoke from a place of brutal honesty. He couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice when he talked about his single greatest frustration in Iraq and Afghanistan: the fact that he worked harder and longer for the people of these countries than any Iraqi or Afghan he had ever met. He talked about the months on end when he slept only 4 or 5 hours a night, because he was working so hard to help restore security to these countries. The students listened reverently.

The last question of the night was the most profound. The professor called on a shy student who had listened silently all evening, her hijab and clothing marking her as a conservative Muslim girl. "You must have a question," he said to her. She nodded and asked, "Is there any one experience from Iraq or Afghanistan that will stay with you?"

My friend nodded thoughtfully. "That's a question that you probably shouldn't ask military veterans," he told her quietly. "But yes, I will tell you about an experience I will always remember."

Some people believe that the seeds of trust and goodwill are planted by US government-funded satellite channels full of sunny optimism. They believe that security and force protection are found in barricades, razor wire, and cover stories. My friend, like me, believes the opposite. He believes that honesty and sincerity are the foundations we need to build on. Honesty breaks down walls of separation, humanizes the other, and makes meaningful, trusting relationship possible. His answer, which would probably have horrified the force protection folks, reflects that belief.

There was a time in Fallujah, he said, when he authorized a helicopter strike on a house that he believed was filled with insurgents. At the time, all the information he had available suggested that this was the right target. He made the best decision he could with the information that he had available at the time. Nobody will ever know the whole truth of who died that night, but he said the consistency of rage and grief from the local community has led him to believe that he made a mistake. It wasn't the right house. Innocent people died that night, he said. Because of him, people who should be alive and free and enjoying all that life has to offer are dead. He will always have to live with that.

I couldn't get inside the minds of those girls that night, but from where I sat in the corner of the room, I could see the emotions flickering over their faces. They saw his regret and his pain. I believe the honesty of his confession earned him their respect and understanding. In those minutes my friend probably did more to humanize the US military in these ladies' eyes than any amount of public diplomacy.

They were sincerely grateful for his talk, and excited when he offered to leave his contact info in case they had further questions. Each of them has to write a paper about American foreign policy, so he could potentially be a valuable contact for them. According to standard force protection protocol, my friend probably should have just disappeared without leaving a trace. Instead, he offered to sustain these new relationships in a meaningful way.

It was a great night, and one of the cooler things I've been privileged to do while in Jordan... a small but tangible accomplishment in my efforts to promote peace. I hope to line up other guest speakers in the future.