Children Terrified

Children Terrified

By Brian Dominick

June 20, 2003: (ZNet) As the US occupation of Iraq continues, cynical attempts at spinning American troops' presence in and rule over a foreign land have become commonplace. I have seen no item more exemplary of this unfortunate posturing than a recent New York Times piece by correspondent Steven Lee Myers ("Anxious and Weary of War, G.I.'s Face New Iraq Mission," NYT, June 14, 2003).

".even the children terrified Sergeant Betancourt, who appears barely older
than a child himself," writes Myers in an attempt to garner sympathy for US
troops. In this story about the toll taken on the morale and psyches of one
brigade's soldiers as a result of patrolling Baghdad streets and enforcing
military rule, Myers makes every effort to portray American forces as the
saddest victims in the current situation. While he notes in passing several
disturbing facts about the plight of Iraqis, it is somehow the trials and
tribulations faced by American troops on which he focuses. As if Iraqis are
devoid of the ability to feel fear or pain, the scale of suffering is
disturbingly weighted throughout.

Early in the piece, Myers opines, "Some [US troops] are haunted by the
deaths they caused - and suffered - and have sought counseling." Why are
only "some" soldiers haunted by what Myers elsewhere describes as fierce
combat in which civilian casualties were regular? Why are we nowhere
prompted to wonder how much worse the psychological trauma of war and
occupation has been for everyday Iraqis? Neither are we led to question how
readily available counseling has been made for those who underwent nightly
bombing raids, the ground invasion of their city, and now life in a homeland
occupied by foreign powers.

The story contains numerous off-hand mentions of American brutality,
suggesting that such activity has been so high, it cannot be hidden even in
a story with an extremely subjective bias intended to lead readers to feel
sorry for "our boys" in Baghdad. The brigade Myers is covering in his story
reports its troops have killed more than 100 Iraqis who "appeared to pose a
threat to American forces." Given that our hero Sgt. Betancourt is
"terrified" of children - even though no attacks by children on US troops
have been reported - one can't help wondering just what "appeared" means
when assessing the threat posed by people in the streets of Baghdad and
elsewhere.

While civilian suffering is ignored, we're treated to detailed accounts of
US casualties at the hands of clever Iraqi militants. Presumably it would
have taken too long to relate stories about the scores of Iraqis shot to
death by their occupiers for the simple crime of "appearing" to be threats
and "terrifying" the occupiers. The only mention of a specific Iraqi death
in the entire article is at the end of a paragraph recounting a June 1st
firefight in Baghdad where two US servicemen were injured; the last sentence
reads simply: "An Iraqi civilian died." In fact, according to the Associated
Press and other news sources, two Iraqi civilians died in that incident,
both killed by US gunfire.

Under the section heading "Charity," Myers quite blatantly attempts to paint
the occupying forces as benevolent providers. He takes this as far as
pointing out Army engineers had collected "tons of debris" (wherever that
came from) along with "thousands of weapons and untold rounds of ammunition,
stockpiling them for what will someday be the new Iraqi Army." According to
human rights groups, American charity not mentioned in Myers' article
includes tons of unexploded ordinance - cluster bombs and sundry and other
munitions dropped on Iraqi cities during weeks of bombing. The vast majority
of this volatile garbage has yet to be cleaned up, or even clearly marked
off by occupation forces. The carnage caused by such ubiquitous gifts
evidently doesn't qualify for the Times' list of terror-inducing
characteristics of Baghdad. Unsurprisingly, the tons of carcinogenic
depleted uranium donated by the US Navy and Air Force, now littering the
Iraqi landscape, are not listed either.

Speaking of benevolent Army engineers, we're told at length about a Captain
James Lockridge. This generous officer looks around a hospital corridor
containing, by Myers' observation, "men with gunshot wounds, children with
broken limbs, women with newborns," and manages to conclude: "There could be
a suicide bomber" among them. In a hallway packed to the brim with Iraqi
agony, we're asked to identify with the paranoid ravings of a shell-shocked
American soldier. Although we're evidently supposed to share Captain
Lockridge's mortal terror at the sight of so many helpless Iraqis, it's hard
not to pity him instead for his lack of humanity.

Absent from the section on "Charity" is any mention of what typically falls
under the definition of that word. There's no talk of food, water or
medicine being provided by the occupation forces, let alone any critique of
the Army's failure to adequately provide such necessities, not a secret
outside the US media. Where problems such as raw sewage flowing in the
streets are mentioned, it is presented as modestly alarming, but not
connected to the massive bombing campaign that rocked Baghdad two months
ago.

Troops quoted in the article readily admit that they are warriors, not
peacekeepers or aid workers; if only the Pentagon would be so candid about
its institutionalized inability to fill those roles.

Myers' report could be explained as attempting to draw from the cynical
traditions of war correspondence popularized during the Vietnam War, where
clever journalists highlighted ironies and absurdities through the eyes and
words of American soldiers caught in a quagmire of insanity. Granted, the
situation on the ground in Iraq seems hardly less insane than the setting of
the US invasion of Indochina. But Myers stops well short of noting any
systemic nature to the inadequacies and contradictions in post-war Baghdad.
Rather, he whitewashes US atrocities and engages in bend-over-backwards
apologetics on behalf of American troops. Additionally, he fails to
elaborate on the numerous concerns and criticisms soldiers in his story
raise about American leaders and their policy toward Iraq, while
nevertheless managing to use such comments to rouse the audiences'
sympathies.

The whole picture of Baghdad life is quite different from that portrayed in
Myers' attempt at inducing even more sympathy than that already afforded US
personnel operating in Iraq. As it turns out, a conservative assessment of
casualties resulting from the April invasion of Baghdad alone puts the
number of civilian deaths at nearly two thousand, absolutely dwarfing those
sustained by invaders (www.iraqbodycount.org). Today, US storm troopers
continue to raid "pockets of resistance," always dutifully noted as "loyal
to Saddam Hussein" rather than the untidy but perhaps more accurate "opposed
to Western occupation." And regular patrols of Iraqi streets consistently
result in "accidental" shootings of Iraqis going about legitimate business
or peacefully protesting.

But if you believe the Times, children and others in Iraq aren't terrified -
at most they're "frustrated" or "disgruntled." Instead, by their mere
existence, children and other civilians are the ones doing the terrifying.

Brian Dominick is a freelance journalist based in Syracuse, NY, USA. He has
covered US foreign policy and social movements for 10 years, currently
specializing in Middle East media/policy analysis and frequently
contributing to ZNet (www.zmag.org).

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