EVERY HUMAN LIFE

“In Iraq, lives differ in value -- and so do deaths. In this disparity lies an important reason why the United States has botched this war.” Those were the first words I had ever read by Andrew J. Bacevich. It was an article in the Washington Post, July of 2006, “What’s an Iraqi’s Life Worth?”


The insurance claim to the beneficiaries of an American soldier who dies in the line of duty is $400,000, while a dead Iraqi civilian is reportedly worth up to $2,500 in condolence payments. Bush stated during one of his speeches that "every human life is a precious gift of matchless value," it really isn’t so in Iraq.


Andrew Bacevich is a professional military man, having attended West Point, obtained a PhD from Princeton, served for 20 years in the U.S. Army, and is a Professor of History and International Relations at Boston University. I’ve since read his contributions to the Weekly Standard and National Review, and I just finished his latest book The New American Militarism: How Americans Are Seduced by War. He has an interesting political viewpoint regarding the war, and the military, which at first glance seem to be in conflict, but after reading the book, I understood how we Americans have placed our trust in our country’s military power, just on the say-so of its generals. Bacevich reminds of President Eisenhower’s farewell address in 1961, when he warned the country about the development of “the military-industrial complex”. I remember that coined phrase all too well in the 60s.

It was while driving on the expressway last week that I heard the name Bacevich and wondered if he was giving a lecture or maybe appearing on Bill O’Reilly, since BU is O’Reilly’s alma mater. I turned up the volume.


“The Department of Defense announced today the death of a soldier who was supporting Operating Iraqi Freedom. First Lieutenant Andrew J. Bacevich, 27, of Walpole, Massachusetts, died on May 13th, in Balad, Iraq, of wounds suffered when an improvised device exploded near his unit during combat patrol operations….”


An ironic tragedy it is when a retired colonel, a conservative, now against the war and building up the military machinery, loses his son to the very military machinery he once supported.


No matter how you lose a child, in times of war or peace, it’s a pain that never leaves.

The following is an excerpt from Basic, a poem written by Steven Kowit from the Dumbbell Nebula (Roundhouse Press).

“One gray morning in the second week of basic training, lacing up his boots, that shy, phlegmatic, red-haired boy who bunked above me whispered,
‘Steve, I don’t believe I’m gonna make it…’
‘No way, man! You’re doing fine! Hey, look, c’mon, we’re late.’
and shrugged him off to race out just in time to make formation in the mist of that Kentucky morning.
--He was right. He didn’t. He took a razor blade that night, and crawling underneath the barracks, slashed his throat.”