When I volunteered as a soldier to be a part of the initial invasion of Iraq, it was under the assumption that our intentions were just. U.S. troops—most of us from working-class backgrounds—were fed countless stories of the supposed brutality of Saddam Hussein, and the plight of the Iraqi people.
I truly began to understand the nature of the “liberation” that the U.S. military was bringing to Iraq after one particular
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I still have not discovered the reasons for being sent on this mission. There was a block of about 10 homes in an Iraqi city, all with families living in them. Our orders were to force them to leave.
We drove our unarmored Humvees as occupiers through a newly “liberated” Iraqi neighborhood.
We found the block of houses, set up security and began knocking on each door. Each family “free” from Saddam’s “dictatorship” was greeted by rifles in their faces and eviction notices.
As they argued with us, confused and panicked, all we could tell them was that they had two days to leave. We did not tell them where to go, why they had to leave or offer any compensation. All we provided was an “official” letter ordering them out of their homes.
When we returned two days later, none of the families had gone. The instructions from the military brass were clear: empty the houses no matter what. We were given no reasons or explanations. Only orders.
The orders did not tell us what to do with the Iraqi children in the homes, or the old man who could not walk.
We barged in the houses, rifles first, and began removing people. A young Iraqi girl who spoke English tried to reason with us. She tried to understand why this was happening and what they were supposed to do. All we did was tell her we were sorry, as we dragged her family crying onto the street.
That day was spent being spit on, being told we were “worse than Saddam,” and being forced to turn our heads as crying families begged us to let them stay. The men who refused to leave were zip-tied and brought to jail.
The women and children were told only what prison their family members were being taken to; we left them standing in the street as we drove back to base.
This was the “liberation” that the U.S. military occupation brought to Iraq.
International solidarity
Not a day has gone by that I haven’t been haunted by the desperate faces of those newly homeless families. The oppression of the colonial occupation of Iraq is something that weighs heavily on my mind.
Everyday, the U.S. government throws families onto the street. In Iraq, it is with threats and violence.
There is no colonial occupation in the United States, but workers also are losing their homes and apartments to make way for the rich. Workers here are faced with racism, bigotry and poverty—all aimed at them by the system and a massive media-based propaganda machine.
Families in Iraq are not our enemies. The hungry and impoverished workers in Iraq are the same as workers who struggle to survive in the United States.
And it is working-class people in this country who are deliberately targeted by military recruiters. The politicians in Washington send oppressed people overseas to kill, humiliate and oppress others. This does not serve our interests; it only serves the interests of the war profiteers.
Real liberation will come when we—soldiers, workers, immigrants, students and families—no longer let the ruling class divide and create barriers between the exploited in the United States and the exploited abroad.
Soldiers should refuse to fight and, instead, bring the struggle home. Real liberation will come when we struggle together against our common enemy, instead of being used against each other to profit the rich.
