Here’s a link
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/31/world/middleeast/31cnd-iraq.html?hp
to a not completely on it, but still good background piece about the last week’s events in the NYTimes.
Here’s my recap: Maliki ordered the under-motivated Iraqi army into the Basra and when that initially seemed to be going well, also Sadr City. The Mahdi army in both locations- more quickly in Bagdad apparently, mobilized and stopped the Iraqi Army, or more accurately the Iraqi Army stopped fighting once they started encountering serious resistance.
What is astonishing is that the Mahdi army was taken on so audaciously by Maliki, even if they now declare a truce. Accepting a truce would of course be an admission by Maliki that the offensive failed, a failure that will be confirmed if the pipeline payments for the oil passing through Basra continue. Because that is really what this offensive is about.
The article in the NYTimes repeats some talking points put out by the Sadrist political arm that are worth talking about. One of the commonalities between militias the world over- from Sinn Fein to Hamas, Hezbollah to FARC, Somalian ethnic warlords to the Mahdi army, is a public face as a provider of health care and food. What was the fight about in Somalia in ’90-’91? Control of the food distribution network, control that the UN operation was undermining. One of our fights when I was in Bagdad last year was control of the hospital- I eventually helped convince the Iraqi Army brigade to station a platoon at the hospital, something we also did at the Balad hospital when I was there in 2004. We spent a lot of time during my last deployment trying to regain control of kerosene distribution. The Mahdi army doesn’t distribute kerosene and gasoline- the Iraqi government distributes kerosene and gasoline and the Mahdi army hijacks that process.
In contrast, what isn’t astonishing is that the SCIRI Badr corps hasn’t been targeted in this round.
What has to be watched is whether the Mahdi army will still be getting oil pipeline rent payments, and if the Iraqi Army retreats (is "redeployed") from the large sections of Basra that they now hold. Is the truce a defeat of centralization? or a recognition of a new slighter more centralized and Maliki dominated Iraqi reality?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
fighting in basra
Just watched video on CNN [http://www.cnn.com/video//video/world/2008/03/25/blake.iraq.basra.itn] that purports to show Iraqi Army and Police fighting in Basra. What they showed was Iraqi military, but they didn’t show any fighting. They pretended to show some fighting, but the one sequence of someone firing a weapon was clearly staged: the Iraqi army soldier firing an AK wasn’t aiming, just firing at a high angle with a typical disregard for where the bullet might land. The soldier was wearing digital camo; they were still almost all wearing chocolate chip fatigues when I left Bagdad last summer. Makes me wonder whether the units in Bagdad are considered elite by the IA and NP. Also, the remainder of the footage showed IA/ NP soldiers standing around in the street. I’m assuming NP based on the older style body armor. Umm, you don’t stand around in the open if you can help it- assuming you’re actively fighting.
How does this generation of journalists live with itself when it people like David Halberstam were (RIP April 23 2007) so much braver about showing the costs of combat, and either are still or were until recently alive to witness their cowardice?
Or maybe the "major combat operations in Basra" aren’t all that major. The British at the airport haven’t even left their base.
How does this generation of journalists live with itself when it people like David Halberstam were (RIP April 23 2007) so much braver about showing the costs of combat, and either are still or were until recently alive to witness their cowardice?
Or maybe the "major combat operations in Basra" aren’t all that major. The British at the airport haven’t even left their base.
shocked and awed.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/25/us/25dead.web.html?hp
Got up and read the paper, and this is what I found on the front page of the NYTimes Homepage.
I took me a minute to figure what I was reacting to, but after figuring out that I recognized Ryan Wood, and another soldier in the background, I think I was mainly reacting to the green background big red 1ID patches on their shoulders.
This whole war is just so sad and wrong.
Got up and read the paper, and this is what I found on the front page of the NYTimes Homepage.
I took me a minute to figure what I was reacting to, but after figuring out that I recognized Ryan Wood, and another soldier in the background, I think I was mainly reacting to the green background big red 1ID patches on their shoulders.
This whole war is just so sad and wrong.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
what counts as our community?
8 March 2008
Yesterday evening as I was coming home on the train, there was a young man in my car wearing tiger striped hunting camo and a boonie cap. When we pulled out of Point of Rocks, he asked the car if the next stop was Brunswick, which it was. He then got up and got ready to disembark, a bit prematurely, as it takes almost 20 minutes to get from Point of Rocks to Brunswick, pulling a large matching camo pattern equipment bag from the overhead storage rack. It was startling large within the confines of the train compartment, and he was right in front of my face as he finished this task, so I asked him what it was. A snowboard. He related that he had just come in today from Colorado to BWI, and sat back down. This was apparently enough interest to spark his conversation and he related that he was travelling to Keedyville, which is just up route 67 from Brunswick. I asked more questions; how are you getting there? I was thinking of taking a cab. This is a tall order in Brunswick, everything is closed at the hour we are arriving this day. Or getting a ride from my sister. Does she know you’re coming? No, I’ll have to call her. But my phone broke on the slopes yesterday. Is there a payphone at the trainstation? A few others spoke up and described where to find the phone on the platform, and warned him that it was out in the weather- which was raining relatively heavily. I put my hand on my phone in my pocket. How are you paying for the call? Um… A lady started going through her purse. I handed him my phone, with the comment that it’s all the same cost on a cell phone. He revealed that his sister had Verizon, which made the phone call free. His sister was surprised to get the call, he thought she would be done with work already. I had to remind him to tell her that he didn’t have a phone she could call him back at. He gave the phone back, and I asked him how he’d gotten from BWI to the Brunswick MARC train; he told me he’d taken the Penn line. So, from Colorado to BWI, then via the Penn Line to Union Station to Brunswick via MARC, and then a vague plan for getting to Keedyville. He’d had a long day. I told him the train station was warm, and would be open all night while he waited.
Yesterday evening as I was coming home on the train, there was a young man in my car wearing tiger striped hunting camo and a boonie cap. When we pulled out of Point of Rocks, he asked the car if the next stop was Brunswick, which it was. He then got up and got ready to disembark, a bit prematurely, as it takes almost 20 minutes to get from Point of Rocks to Brunswick, pulling a large matching camo pattern equipment bag from the overhead storage rack. It was startling large within the confines of the train compartment, and he was right in front of my face as he finished this task, so I asked him what it was. A snowboard. He related that he had just come in today from Colorado to BWI, and sat back down. This was apparently enough interest to spark his conversation and he related that he was travelling to Keedyville, which is just up route 67 from Brunswick. I asked more questions; how are you getting there? I was thinking of taking a cab. This is a tall order in Brunswick, everything is closed at the hour we are arriving this day. Or getting a ride from my sister. Does she know you’re coming? No, I’ll have to call her. But my phone broke on the slopes yesterday. Is there a payphone at the trainstation? A few others spoke up and described where to find the phone on the platform, and warned him that it was out in the weather- which was raining relatively heavily. I put my hand on my phone in my pocket. How are you paying for the call? Um… A lady started going through her purse. I handed him my phone, with the comment that it’s all the same cost on a cell phone. He revealed that his sister had Verizon, which made the phone call free. His sister was surprised to get the call, he thought she would be done with work already. I had to remind him to tell her that he didn’t have a phone she could call him back at. He gave the phone back, and I asked him how he’d gotten from BWI to the Brunswick MARC train; he told me he’d taken the Penn line. So, from Colorado to BWI, then via the Penn Line to Union Station to Brunswick via MARC, and then a vague plan for getting to Keedyville. He’d had a long day. I told him the train station was warm, and would be open all night while he waited.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Griefwork is hard work
7 March 2008
After having what I suppose was my first “psychiatry” visit, I have a few thoughts on what the talking cure is all about.
I think we are very much alone in this world, with our thoughts, with the darkness inside our heads. In the aloneness of my car with just my thoughts, I understood on my drive home today the deep emotional need that religious people have for a deity, for someone else to talk to when they are alone. I could imagine my relief today if I had thought there was someone to hear me while I drove. We have moved so far away from community in our warfare, in our lives, that our deep needs for community are simply unmet. How much more bereft are we then when we are grieving. Grief needs not just an outlet, but a human outlet, an ear to hear as well as a mouth to speak. I felt earlier this week when I asked to be heard a deep yearning to speak, and not just to speak, but for someone to hear my tears when I tell my story. I wish there were a way to share my tears with others that are also crying, to be a member of a community in grief, but I am alone with that desire at this time and this place. The opportunity to grieve for my soldiers together with my fellow soldiers was blocked by mental barriers of rank and roles, our physical separation, and our misunderstanding of ourselves as strong and tears as weak. I told myself then that there wasn’t time for anything other than the job, but now I wonder if that was true. Maybe there wasn’t the energy; grieving is work, and just an hour of it today has left me fatigued.
After having what I suppose was my first “psychiatry” visit, I have a few thoughts on what the talking cure is all about.
I think we are very much alone in this world, with our thoughts, with the darkness inside our heads. In the aloneness of my car with just my thoughts, I understood on my drive home today the deep emotional need that religious people have for a deity, for someone else to talk to when they are alone. I could imagine my relief today if I had thought there was someone to hear me while I drove. We have moved so far away from community in our warfare, in our lives, that our deep needs for community are simply unmet. How much more bereft are we then when we are grieving. Grief needs not just an outlet, but a human outlet, an ear to hear as well as a mouth to speak. I felt earlier this week when I asked to be heard a deep yearning to speak, and not just to speak, but for someone to hear my tears when I tell my story. I wish there were a way to share my tears with others that are also crying, to be a member of a community in grief, but I am alone with that desire at this time and this place. The opportunity to grieve for my soldiers together with my fellow soldiers was blocked by mental barriers of rank and roles, our physical separation, and our misunderstanding of ourselves as strong and tears as weak. I told myself then that there wasn’t time for anything other than the job, but now I wonder if that was true. Maybe there wasn’t the energy; grieving is work, and just an hour of it today has left me fatigued.
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