What are we asking our young military professionals to sacrifice for?
Two stories in the Washington Post on Saturday should be read in tandem for insight into how we might best interpret the recent killing of sixteen Afghan civilians by a U.S. combat staff sergeant. The first, the paper's lead story, identified the alleged killer as thirty-eight-year-old Robert Bales, a trained army sniper who had served three tours in Iraq before his Afghan deployment and had suffered combat wounds during his overseas assignments. Bales is accused of leaving his base in Kandahar province, engaging in the house-to-house killing spree, then returning to the base and turning himself in. He could face the death penalty.
The Post probes the man and his background in an effort to perhaps shed some light on why a seemingly normal soldier would engage in such a grisly business. The paper quotes Bales's lawyer, John Henry Browne, as saying Bales didn't want to deploy to Afghanistan in December, had experienced post-traumatic stress disorder stemming from his previous deployments and suffered a head injury during one of his Iraq tours. Also, just hours before the killing spree, he had witnessed a friend lose a leg in an explosion.
Inevitably, the Post piece, like other major news stories on the same day, engaged in some speculation on how and why such behavior could emerge in a soldier with a solid record. In 2007, Bales was part of an extensive battle in southern Iraq--later described by army officials as "apocalyptic"--in which 250 enemy soldiers were killed and eighty-one wounded while Bales's unit experienced no casualties. We learn also, however, that he had been disappointed when he didn't get promoted to sergeant first class. In Washington state, where his unit was based, he had a record of minor legal infractions, including misdemeanor assault and a one-car traffic rollover.
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The Post suggests some veterans' groups fear Bales's case will place into the American consciousness an image of "a crazy veteran gone wild." It quotes an official of the Veterans of Foreign Wars as saying, "The main concern is that we'll be back where we started with a stigma that all veterans that return are broken in some way." This was reinforced by a New York Daily News headline: "Sergeant Psycho." Tom Tarantino, deputy policy director at a group called Iraq and Afghanistan of America, says we are left with "this wired mind-set in the public consciousness and immediately everyone goes to the `Sergeant Psycho' thing. . . . We need to try to make sense of this tragedy, and it's extremely difficult to do so. And that's the problem."
The problem is that nobody can make sense of such a thing. We will see in coming days and weeks reams of analysis about Bales's head injury, his post-traumatic stress difficulties, the accumulated anguish of war. There will be accusations against his superiors for not identifying the symptoms that led to such vicious behavior. Indeed, the Post quotes one self-confident psychiatrist who has worked with veterans as stating flatly that this was "a presumptive case of leadership failure."
None of this speculation and analytical probing will be worth much at all. The search for broader lessons in such warped actions is always futile and often irresponsible. Was it the head injury? The traumatic stress of combat? The inattentive superiors? We'll never know, and there's no point in speculating. Certainly, it would be irresponsible to try to assess blame elsewhere for one man who clearly snapped for whatever reason, or perhaps no reason.
But the episode does present an occasion for asking what Sergeant Bales and his fellow combatants were fighting for over the past decade. When his country sent the man back into combat for the fourth time in eight years, what was the purpose, and what had been accomplished toward that purpose through his previous three tours?