Positive Universe Abstracts

by Connie L. Nash

Last Friday morning Aidan Delgado, a veteran of the Iraq war, graced the Unitarian Universalist sanctuary of Transylvania County with more than his striking appearance and presence. He gave—in non-inflammatory terms—shocking accounts of his time in Iraq which had a riveting effect on the seventy or so listeners present. All of us, in this seemingly endless war—beyond and within our hurting country—would do well to take heed.

As an American citizen in a diplomat’s family, Delgado grew up partly in Cairo, Egypt where he learned Arabic. He spent time in Thailand and other countries as well where he gained an appreciation for various cultures, religions and peoples.

He was particularly fascinated by spiritual systems that openly and consistently taught non-violence and began a study of religions after high school at a college in Florida. But after his first year—restless with academia alone—he expressed interest in enlisting in the US military to his family. His father shook him and tried hard to talk his son out of this move—yet to no avail. At that time, his father’s background in the Peace Corps (work with mere “grapes, figs and olives” as Delgado put it) and other humanitarian/diplomatic work did not hold enough savvy for his action-seeking son as it would soon.

Delgado signed his US Army reservist enlistment contract just before the first of two planes hit the World Trade Center. Soon afterwards, seeing the horrific news on TV, he wrote “I feel a swirl of emotion: confusion, fear, excitement…The country is under attack and I’m in the Army, sort of.” He then hoped for action abroad soon.

Delgado was sent to Nasiriyah, Southern Iraq, in April, 2003, where he served as a vehicle mechanic.

His ease with Arabic language and slang gave him a window into US racism toward Iraqis–behavior which did not include all the military personnel he observed. There were also incidents he saw, heard of and viewed in “trophy” photographs where racism, as he understood it, fueled unnecessary acts of brutality and intimidation.

During the early months of military service, Delgado became more and more dedicated in his spiritual path—which was distinctly non-violent. Even then, for quite a few months he tried to convince himself that the ethical challenges he faced in the Army might strengthen him in that very faith. Yet after awhile, Delgado realized that even as a mechanic he was supporting war—which he was coming to abhor. Not long after this ephiphany, he submitted an application for the status of Conscientious Objection. Meantime, he served without weapon—despite the fact that some scoffed his beliefs.

For his last months of service, Delgado supported US military staff who worked at the now infamous Abu Ghraib prison. Officers would come back to the base with hints of the scandal that would eventually become world news. He saw some of the first photos of prisoner abuse before they were publicized. Besides his work as mechanic, Delgado worked 24-hour radio shifts with senior officers at Abu Ghraib’s headquarters.

In April, 2004, the scandal finally broke. That same month, Delgado was given permission to return home.

Finally he was granted Conscientious-Objector status and honorably discharged.

In Delgado’s book, “The Sutras of Abu Ghraib: Notes From a Conscientious Objector in Iraq.” just released from Beacon Press, Delgado’s richly-layered experiences include heartfelt appreciation for some of his superiors and comrades as well as accounts of prisoner abuse. Other scenes describe touching heroism and humor in the midst of extreme life and death situations.

Someone in the UUTC audience asked Delgado what happened to Abu Ghraib after the scandal. He said “light is a great disinfectant” but urged the listeners not to think that the evils of that prison have stopped—only that they merely “went on the road” to other places. “You can break it up and shake it up”, he said, but added that it would take much more for such atrocities to end.

Delgado indicated that many soldiers were and still are his friends and that he respects deeply each one’s need to wake up each day able to face the work ahead.

He described a particularly difficult dynamic when he felt sick and lonesome after his decision to become a C.O. He realized that the only place then which felt like home was Iraq—a place he paradoxically wanted more than anything to leave.

Speaking on Friday about the US soldiers’ heavy burdens, Delgado took time to describe the lack of care and understanding for those with severe mental and emotional difficulty. There were groans of recognition from several historians present during the talk when Delgado said he’d studied the Soviet’s use of the term for their returning veterans who experienced more than average trauma upon return from war: (translated) “Sluggishly progressing Schizophrenia.” Delgado said that today the US military sometimes calls this same condition “Pre-existing Personality Disorder.” Delgado indicated that treatment for post-trauma and other mental disorders for returning military persons is seriously lacking and he finds the discrepancies between what little is spent for post-trauma for our soldiers compared to what is spent for political gala events to be hard to understand.

A Pentagon Survey of Soldier’s Mental Health and Ethics–also featured on Delgado’s website–reveals how prolonged deployment can erode the moral values of soldiers and marines. From the study’s findings: “approximately 10% of soldiers and marines reported mistreating non-combatants;” less than half agreed that “all non-combatants should be treated with dignity and respect.” This is juxtaposed with a letter sent on May 10, 2007 from Baghdad by General David Petraeus reading in part, “Adherence to our values distinguishes us from our enemy…in the event that we witness or hear of (illegal) actions, we must not let our bonds prevent us from speaking up.”

Delgado speaks up–often presenting slide shows at schools and other places on the atrocities he knew of first-hand in Iraq. He acknowledges to the students that the U.S. military did some good things in Iraq.

“We deposed Saddam, built some schools and hospitals, ” he said. Yet, he says, there is more to know. In one government class for seniors, Delgado presented his own photos of the charred remains of children, kids riddled with bullets, and a soldier from his unit scooping out the brains of a prisoner. Some students and journalists said they were squeamish. Yet at the end of the question period, many expressed gratitude that Delgado had opened a subject that is so often forbidden. “If you are old enough to go to war, ” Delgado said, “you are old enough to know what really goes on.”

At the talk in Brevard, Delgado was asked what his parents thought about his activism. He said that they are both immensely pleased with his beliefs and work.

He said that now his dad is his hero.

Delgado states on his website: “I have always wanted to talk to people in depth, away from the politics and the rhetoric. I hope (the) book will finally allow me to speak to people in the way I always intended: person to person.” When so many of us are weary of empty statistics, strategies and arguments and sick of irrelevant and inconsistent theologies, Delgado offers hard yet heartfelt memory with descriptions that put a catch in the throat.

I suggest that Delgado’s challenge is for us to face our own personal and collective realities with courage and never quit doing what we know deep inside is right. Delgado’s richly-textured descriptions of his inner battles with fear and dismay shine with enough light to help guide us all.

May we allow Delgado’s example to enlighten our own ethical paths on issues of war and peace. May we, like Aidan Delgado, hold a sacred respect for all who cross our paths—no matter who they happen to be.

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