Returning Home Alive
By Stan Goff
| "All is not okay or right for those of us who return home alive
and supposedly well. What looks like normalcy and readjustment
is only an illusion to be revealed by time and torment. Some
soldiers come home missing limbs and other parts of their
bodies. Still others will live with permanent scars from
horrific events that no one other than those who served will
ever understand." - Douglas Barber, 2005 |
09/04/06 "Information
Clearing House" -- -- On January 16th, after having talked quite
normally on the phone with at least two other people that same
day, Douglas Barber, a member of Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW)
living in Lee County, Alabama, changed the answer-message on his
telephone. "If you're looking for Doug," it said in his Alabama
drawl, "I'm checking out of this world. I'll see you on the
other side." He then called the police, collected his shotgun,
and went out onto his porch to meet them.
From the sketchy reports we have now, it seems the police
wouldn't oblige him with a "suicide by cop" and tried to talk
him down. When it became apparent he wasn't able to commit
cop-suicide, 27-year-old Douglas Barber did an about-face,
rotated the shotgun and killed himself. There is a hell of a lot
that we just don't know about how this happened. I talked to
Doug on the phone earlier this month, and he described how
excited he was to have joined IVAW, how he looked forward to
taking up the pen and speaking out. Others had spoken with him
only days and hours before he permanently quieted the chaos in
his head. None of the "classic" signs of suicidal thinking were
manifest. He was gregarious and upbeat, playful.
We know he had been prescribed medication. When he came back
from Iraq, having served with the 1485th Transportation Company,
a National Guard unit federalized to compensate for the extreme
combat overstretch in Iraq, he was diagnosed with severe
post-traumatic stress (PTSD), and the Veterans Administration
medical system leans toward drugs. In fact, they frequently
shazam PTSD into something called "personality disorder," which
can be treated with drugs. One veteran I know was prescribed
Paxil, which made him feel suicidal, and when the VA insisted
that it worked, this kid switched to his own anti-depressant -
marijuana, which he says works better than the Paxil and doesn't
make him feel like killing himself.
If one has a personality disorder, you see, then the "pathology"
has no relation to one's job, like participating in the
occupation of Iraq. The etiology exists somewhere within the
individual, like a genetic disorder ... that was missed during
induction, missed by one's units, and missed during medical
pre-screening for deployment into Mesopotamia. We don't know if
Doug was taking medication, or had stopped taking medication, or
even what medication he had been prescribed. We do know that he
was a truck driver, and that his job in Iraq was driving supply
convoys along the shooting gallery between Baghdad Airport and
LSA Anaconda in Balad - a giant military base, a veritable city
- that is subject to so many mortar and rocket attacks that the
troops have renamed it Mortaritaville.
We do know, from Doug's interviews, that the stress of those
convoys - each confronting its participants with the possibility
that this could be one's last road trip - were hard on Doug. In
July 2003, his convoy was hit with an improvised explosive
device, and the mortar attacks at Anaconda were so regular that
they were almost a weather pattern. But Doug said there was
something else that was even harder on him.
When the grunts came in, they would describe how many civilians
they'd killed. When Doug was in a traffic jam one day, feeling
very vulnerable, and the US units dismounted to clear the
traffic jam - angry and afraid and waving weapons at the
civilians - a woman in a bus held up her baby for them to see
... like that window-sign we see in cars on American highways,
"Baby on Board." Only she wasn't cautioning other drivers to be
careful. She was trying to prevent an armed attack that could
kill her child. Doug may have decomped from medication, I don't
know. That could have contributed to his suicide. It's possible.
He fought with the defunded, Bush-administration VA for two
years, trying to get counseling, and trying to get authorization
for his disability. It's very difficult to be a "productive
member of society" when one fears sleep, and when one has lost
meaning. I read a book on post-traumatic stress once. Rape is
the most common cause, then combat. It said that trauma disrupts
one's sense that the word is a safe place, that trauma
destabilizes our sense of meaning. Let me explain something, as
a veteran myself of eight conflict areas, and something that
Doug discovered in Balad. The sense that the world is not a safe
place is not a "disorder." It is an accurate perception. And the
sense of meaning many of us enjoy is an illusion, a cruel
construction that normalizes the orderly activity of the suburb
and nurses our children on simple-minded, Disney-fied optimism
pumped through television sets in a relentless data stream.
Post-traumatic stress is not a disorder. Calling it that earns
it a place in the DSM IV, professionalizes and medicalizes this
very accurate perception that the world is not safe, and that
life is not a comforting film convention. Calling it an
individual "disorder" cloaks the social systems responsible for
experiences like Vietnam and Iraq. And it renders invisible the
fact that Douglas Barber was not merely a suicide. Douglas
Barber was nurtured on the illusions that secure our obedience,
but when the real system needed to demonstrate to the rest of
the world just how unsafe our nation could make them as the
price of disobedience, the vile carnival barkers of the Bush
administration, like administrations before them, did not
recruit the children of Martha's Vineyard or Georgetown.
They went, as they have always done, to places like Lee County,
Alabama, where simple people have formed powerful affective
attachments to the myth of our national moral superiority. When
that world view, that architecture of meaning, collapses in the
face of realities like convoy Russian roulette, and women
holding babies up to prevent being shot, and daily stories of
slaughter by the people one sleeps with, the profound betrayal
of it is not experienced as some quiet, somber sadness. It is
experienced like bees swarming out of a hive that has been
broken, as a howling chaos. So we quiet it with marijuana,
alcohol, heroin, and even shotguns.
The most fortunate of these survivors find one another. Doug had
recently joined IVAW, where our veterans not only establish
mutual support networks of plain love and care with one another,
but where they can engage in the most "therapeutic" activity of
all - fighting back against the criminality that sent them there
in the first place.
We arrived too late for Doug. We were going to met him in
Birmingham later this month to involve him in the planning for a
trip from Mobile, Alabama, to New Orleans, and serve as the
conscience of a nation that will spend trillions to drop bombs
on Iraqis, and use a hurricane in the Black Belt as a pretext to
accelerate gentrification. So when we launch out of Mobile in
March on this 135-mile trek, we will carry Douglas Barber with
us.
Visit http://www.ivaw.net
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