In early 2007 I saw a TV interview with a young female American soldier whose job was to drop bombs remotely on Iraqi targets, directing them from a computer console in Colorado. The reporter asked if she had any doubts or remorse about what she was doing. She perkily answered that she trusted the orders and information she got from her superiors. My brother had been killed by explosives dropped from an American helicopter that flew in after an unmanned U.S. drone had scoped out the area. It struck me that Haji’s death had been orchestrated by someone just like this young woman, pressing buttons from thousands of miles away, sitting in a comfortable chair in front of a computer, completely oblivious to the terror and destruction they were causing to a family–a whole society–halfway across the world. I was overcome with feelings of intense hatred and anger toward this woman in Colorado and all the other young, fresh-faced U.S. soldiers. But in my heart I knew that wasn’t fair; they’re mostly just kids caught up in a cycle of greed and power they don’t understand, naïve pawns in the age-old game of aggression and warfare. Born and raised in the United States, an encapsulated sphere of privilege and safety, it’s not surprising they would be unable to fathom the reality of a distant, foreign society and the ramifications of their actions.
Wafaa Bilal, Shoot an Iraqi (via gcintheme)
