Remember the Iraqis

The role of the American soldier has stood in great prominence since the invasion of Iraq more than a year ago. Both those in favor and against the war have referred back to the welfare of American troops as a critical point of discussion: Some have used it to justify universal, unwavering support of the war. Others, however, see the continual risking of young American lives as key proof that Iraq has indeed become what Sen. Edward M. Kennedy, D-Mass., called “George Bush’s Vietnam.”

What has surprisingly been given minimal exposure, in comparison, is the fate of the other party in this war—that is, the Iraqis that American troops were sent in to defeat and/or liberate. That is, until recently.

A couple of weeks ago, disturbing photographs were circulated around the globe that showed American soldiers at the Abu Ghraib prison outside of Baghdad engaging in malicious torture and sexual humiliation of Iraqi prisoners. Yet, in addressing the atrocities, President Bush said curtly: “I think they’ll be taken care of.” His sentiment was similar to that voiced by New York Post editor-in-chief Col Allan, who refused to publish pictures of the abused Iraqi prisoners. Allan reasoned: “If there’s a handful of U.S. soldiers who’ve mistreated prisoners, I don’t think that should be allowed to reflect poorly on the 140,000 men and women over there who are risking their lives and doing a good job.” No wonder the Post is notoriously aligned with the president.

Allan’s concerns, while understandable, dangerously miss the point. To be sure, those who have chosen to serve their country still warrant national support and admiration for their courage. But criticism of American military action doesn’t detract from the larger merits of the troops—nor does prevailing heroism make it okay to ignore obvious wrongdoings.

The photographs taken at the Abu Ghraib prison reveal American soldiers laughing and taunting naked Iraqis and forcing them into humiliating sexual positions. One photo showed seven naked men piled in a human pyramid; others revealed male prisoners being forced to masturbate and simulate oral sex with each other.

These antics were not only cruel, but also particularly insensitive to Arab culture. Bernard Haykel, professor of Middle Eastern studies at New York University, explained in the April 30 issue of the New Yorker, that the severity of these actions is compounded by the nature of Islamic law, which prohibits homosexual acts. “Being put on top of each other and forced to masturbate, being naked in front of each other—it’s all a form of torture,” said Haykel.

If these photographs represented an isolated incident, it would have been bad enough. But it seems that this incident falls into a larger, almost routine, trend of abuse. At a hearing for Sergeant Ivan L. Frederick II—one of six members of an Army Reserve military police unit at the Abu Ghraib prison now facing prosecution on charges of conspiracy, cruelty toward prisoners, maltreatment and indecent acts—it was revealed that no specific restrictions were ever set on what could, and could not, be done to prisoners. It has since come to light that Frederick once hit a prisoner in the chest so hard that the prisoner nearly went into cardiac arrest.

It’s clear that “Bush’s Vietnam” has been no exception to the trend of engaging in dehumanizing behavior in wartime. However, to dismiss the inhumanities as an inevitable reality of warfare, or to distract attention away from them by enforcing positive aspects of the military, is to ignore the gravity of the issue. Only recently, under the pressure of heightened public scrutiny, did President Bush exchange his previously lukewarm expressions of regret for a more sincere apology. Yet the damage has been done; no words can redeem the atrocity or compensate for the attitude of negligence his callous words revealed. Looking out for the American troops isn’t enough; it only takes one photograph of the receiving end of the blows to remind us that in warfare there are always two sides to everything.

Rena Xu ’07, a Crimson editorial editor, lives in Holworthy Hall.