Terrified + Service

Update (8-26): can't seem to get the link working so here is the address:

www.lrb.co.uk/v29/n15/meek01_.html

This article is truly terrifying. It is also a strong case for State control of the military, despite all the violence that has created. I may post something on after I finish the article but this thought alone is worth considering.

‘Our corporate goal is to do for the national security apparatus what FedEx did to the postal service.

Update: 4pm


The article, primarily a book review, is fairly critical of the work in question and raises many interesting issues. For our conversation, however, I would like to focus on the phenomenon of privatization of the military, not just in terms of security forces but also in 'peripheral' duties (laundry is offered as example but shouldn't be the paradigm for understanding 'peripheral'). There are two issues of particular interest here. First, my horror at the (growing) presence of such private military units is also a desire for state control of the "security apparatus." Needless to say, I find this reaction troubling and recognize within it the limited conceptual frame I have for understanding the presence and use of military forces. That is, while I entirely distrust private firms with military operations I also (generally) distrust national governments with such duties. Two alternatives spring to mind: 1) A direct referendum to the public to approve or disapprove of any particular military operation. (I am thinking of larger decisions like invading Iraq, Darfur, Rwanda etc) 2) The need for a transnational oversight on such decisions, which in our current framework would fall to the U.N. One could float the rather scary idea here of a transnational meeting of military chiefs, especially on issues like ethnic cleansing and the like. I have never heard of such a meeting and would be curious to see what kind of proposals come out of it.

(These thoughts are scaring me)

A second issue to consider goes back to solidarity and the sacrifice one is willing to make for those within that circle.

At heart, the difference between the modern professional soldiers of the US or British armies and the PMCs [private military contractors] is not that great. They are volunteers. They join up for the money, to test their courage, for the kit, for the guns, to find out what it is like to kill and to have somebody try to kill you, for the camaraderie, to impress women and to get away from them; patriotism, too, is an element, and a desire to belong to a team.

This is one of the most interesting passages in the article because it brackets "patriotism" and the "desire to belong to a team" together, virtually as afterthoughts; this is indicated grammatically by their placement after the semicolon and the use of "too" as a link between the primary reasons already offered and the current secondary one. The radical difference in scale between patriotism and teams is nullified, an intriguing move that I don't think is inaccurate. Most obviously, there is a general sense of solidarity between you and others engaged in the same aim. There is, however, a more interesting reading, one that makes fighting for one's country and fighting for one's fellow soldiers the same. In a profound conversation with a student who served four tours in Iraq, he told me that while in training one is taught to think only as a unit, a small group for which every member is responsible. At bootcamp, if I make mistakes then my group is punished. (He mentioned getting caught eating a doughnut and having to watch his unit do pushups for an hour) In actual combat, then, he would give up food rations that he himself needed so that another member of his unit would be ok. I found this, amongst many other stories he told, to be a very powerful explanation of how solidarity is thought/ felt in combat.

In talking to this student, however, it struck me that concern for one's unit subsumes patriotism so that serving the nation is only thought through concern for your unit. Indeed, one is trained to think this way. I do not, then, die for my country but rather for the soldiers I am there with.

This is a troubling thought because it narrows down, rather than expands from, patriotism and the (ultimate) sacrifices it ostensibly makes possible.

My student used my class as an opportunity to introspect on the reasons and feelings of his experience in Iraq––my syllabus focused on the mechanisms of "othering;" last time he sent me an email, he asked if I had seen a particular anti-war documentary. The decorated soldier, however, said he did not regret serving because his unit was better protected and led because of his presence.