Moral Injury
Plus, Some News
Howdy,
I feel like I’ve been writing about Moral Injury for a while. If you haven’t read my second piece for the Bulwark, please do yourself a favor and give it a try.
The Taliban commander who killed one of my troops is now the governor of Kabul.
In October, I saw the picture of Qari Baryal on my Facebook feed, the headline announcing that he’d been named the provincial governor of one of Afghanistan’s most important regions.
Qari Baryal killed hundreds of American soldiers and thousands of Afghans.
I know this because after he led a group that planted an IED that killed my troop, I became somewhat obsessed with him. Even after I rotated out of Afghanistan, I kept up with the man.
When I returned to Afghanistan the next time, the hunt for Qari Baryal was still on. The raids always came up empty.
But now, in October of 2021, he sits atop his throne, having bested America’s most elite units.
And Qari Baryal’s victory pales in comparison to Sirajuddin Haqqani’s. Haqqani’s father, Jalaluddin, had been one of Osama bin Laden’s closest allies. America’s entire national security apparatus spent decades tracking this ruthless terrorist.
Today, Sirajuddin—a man with a $10 million reward on his head—feels perfectly comfortable appearing in public, even overseeing the graduation of Afghan National Policemen. Haqqani runs the Interior Ministry, historically the third most powerful post in Afghanistan.
It gets worse. Mullah Yaqoob, the son of the Taliban’s founder, Mullah Omar, now runs Afghanistan’s Ministry of Defense. Yaqoob, a member of the more hardline wing of the Taliban, has been busy revitalizing the Afghan Army by fielding multiple suicide bomber units.
Seeing these men in positions of power infuriates me.
Somewhere in the background of life, my wife is raising our daughter. She makes hints that she needs more of my time.
I brush off her completely reasonable requests. I’ll get to my family, I promise myself.
I also wrote a little something more academic at War on the Rocks with my Mom, Dr. Katherine Selber.
While Afghanistan continues to fade from America’s collective memory, the war looms large for tens of thousands of America’s veterans. For 20 years, U.S. soldiers were ordered to rebuild Afghanistan and, following the mantras of population-centric counterinsurgency, they grew close with their Afghan allies. Then, in the blink of an eye, the war ended disastrously, with their allies trapped behind enemy lines. While Americans, by and large, have moved on, far fewer veterans have turned the proverbial page.
American society and its government, including senior military officers, should take concrete steps to mitigate the resulting moral injury. This means providing veterans with the resources, the honesty, and the opportunities for conversations that they deserve. While these three steps alone will not ameliorate two decades’ worth of damage, they will begin a necessary reckoning.
Read the whole thing.
And, of course, I wrote about my first touch with Moral Injury in Iraq.
How do you ask young American service members to partner with people trying to kill them? How can you ask American families to send their sons and daughters into harm’s way to befriend mass murderers?
But with years of hindsight, I realize that we weren’t the best partners either. We often viewed the IPs as expendable. It was a common adage that when responding to a mass casualty event, it was prudent to let the IPs go first, so they could soak up the inevitable follow-on attacks—either from car bombs or snipers—targeting first responders.
Truthfully, we were both simply trying to survive.
In our unit, we were just trying to get back home to our friends and families. Yes, the mission mattered. However, it was apparent from our mission’s first months that some of our Iraqi partners were trying to kill us. This paradox was evident even to the most junior enlisted. And when a unit’s fundamental mission is in tension with reality, it undermines almost everything it touches. Accordingly, while we did what we could to “train” the IPs, we chiefly tried to survive and care for one another.
But the Iraqis were also just trying to survive. A young Iraqi Police officer once told me, “You have six months of this. I have this for my entire life. You go back to the base at night. My home is around the corner from the station.” Their country had been shattered. Jobs were scarce. Violence and death were everywhere. During the Summer of Death, even being neutral was picking a side, and being on the wrong side at the wrong time meant death.
Read the whole thing.
I write about Moral Injury because it nearly destroyed me—and my family.
EVERYBODY IN THE MILITARY HAS one superpower. Some are great gunslingers. Others are expert bureaucratic knife fighters. A precious few are master strategists. I am none of those things. However, my superpower was rare: I was great at befriending Afghans.
I spoke their languages, studied their history, and immersed myself in their culture.
That superpower nearly destroyed me after the fall of Afghanistan. It’s been two years exactly since the last American plane left Kabul, and I—along with thousands of other veterans—still struggle every day.
Last month, after completing an arduous two-year command tour, I voluntarily admitted myself into the Strong Hope military mental health program at Salt Lake Behavioral Health Hospital, which specializes in combat post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), moral injury, and traumatic brain injuries (TBIs).
Stripped of all my possessions and contact with the outside world, I finally faced the demons created from 1500 days in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over 28 days, I spent nearly 100 hours in intense therapy—eye movement desensitization and reprocessing therapy (EMDR), cognitive processing therapy, dialectical behavioral therapy, psychodrama, and counseling for moral injury.
During this treatment, I faced the intense shame I felt for leaving my Afghan allies behind. I realized that the only way to conquer my demons was to move on from Afghanistan, which felt like an enormous betrayal to those left behind.
Through the help of my therapists, I realized that I had to channel the shame, betrayal, and rage into something productive. Something good had to come from all this suffering.
By sharing my Afghan brothers’ stories, I hope to memorialize them so we don’t forget the pledges my brothers- and sisters-in arms made on our behalf.
There’s a reason that when my BFF
and I joined forces, we spent so much time talking about Moral Injury on our podcast show, Shoulder to Shoulder: Untold Stories From a Forgotten War, almost immediately. We both were mired in it during the fall of Afghanistan. Next month will be the third anniversary of the fall.And we’re going to write a lot about it.
I give you this little stroll down memory lane because we’re trying our hardest to do something about the epidemic of Moral Injury that is cratering our Afghan combat veterans, especially those who advised Afghans—up close and personal.
For us, the pain from Afghanistan never ends. It’s why I’m the way I am. I wrote about this recently at The Bulwark.
All soldiers deserve their stories to be heard by the people who send them to kill on their behalf. Whether you’re an Israeli, an American, or an Afghan, we just want our stories to be heard so that you understand the trauma we endured on your behalf.
That’s all any soldier wants. I hope Nuri gets that. I’m confident he will.
This war may define Nuri’s life. It may end it. With the likelihood of a war with Hezbollah increasing by the day, it’s almost certain that there will be more killing fields in the future.
War is corrosive. It destroys everything it touches. However, it is also a force that gives us meaning. It can intoxicate us. Once a war starts, it often has a logic of its own. It’s not controlled by bureaucrats cranking out the best policy paper. It’s fought on the ground with ruthless violence spurred by vengeance and anger.
But it can also unite people around a noble idea. War isn’t just against an enemy; it can also be for something.
That’s war’s paradox. Something Israel knows far better than we do.
Read the whole thing.
But not only are we writing about it but we’re also trying our hardest to combat it. We, along with our partners at Give an Hour, are starting our first moral injury support group. We already have two spots taken and a few more who’ve committed to applying. Please, help us help some of my heroes get the support that they need. We’re excited and nervous, but we’re confident that we can do it. I’m confident it will be an added bonus for anyone who applies.
*Virtual Support Group Opportunity*
GCV+F is delighted to partner with Rebekah Edmondson and the team at Give an Hour to launch a year-long virtual support group for servicemembers and veterans experiencing moral injury.
Sessions are held once per month and will engage both guest speakers and open discussion. The full calendar is included in the attached application. Participation is FREE.
The group will be limited to 20 participants to ensure continuity of community. Please note that in submitting your application, you are agreeing to attend nine of the 12 sessions.
The application period is now OPEN. Please send completed documents to gcv.friends@gmail.com by Wednesday, August 14.
Please send it to someone who might need it. If you need me to talk them through it, just email me at gcv.friends@gmail.com, and we can discuss it via Zoom, phone, email, or shit I might even fly out to see you! (That sounded normal when I wrote it, and now maybe that’s creepy?)
Moving right along.
Thank you for all of your support. We are forever indebted to our readers, who give us the strength to keep on fighting and heal loudly.
Humble Brag
I’ll take #2 to David French, who is one of my favorite writers. If you’re interested in reading my article, here’s a synopsis:
IT’S A STRANGE EXPERIENCE, to feel better understood—more at home, even, in a sense—in a country that isn’t your own, a country where you don’t even speak the language. I don’t have to explain myself in Israel. Everyone understands what it means to kill and the horrors it inevitably brings.
I shouldn’t feel more at home in a foreign country than in the country whose uniform I wore for twenty years. Until more Americans spend time with those fighting on their behalf, American combat veterans will continue feeling like strangers in their own country. For all the chest-thumping about America’s powerful military, most Americans know little to nothing about the pilot in the expensive fighter jet, the gunner in the tank, or the sailor in the submarine.
The United States government can spend lavishly on its veterans, but it can’t overcome the challenge of a populace so disconnected from the wars fought in their names. Until that changes, the litany of alarming statistics about veterans’ mental health will worsen—though hardly anyone will notice.
Read the whole thing
Also read David French’s article, which is superb (I’m not jealous!):
This might sound strange, but I wonder if Democrats should answer the Republican men’s night with a men’s night of their own — a night that features heroes instead of bullies and showmen, a night that answers the Republican appeal to men’s basest instincts with an appeal to their highest ideals.
When Vance says, “Our people hate the right people,” that’s the language of grievance and anger. But there’s a better way for men — for all of us. It’s rooted in honor, courage and love. Or as McRaven put it, “For what hero gives so much of themselves without caring for those they are trying to save?”
Read the whole thing. He’s the best conservative writer in America, and it’s not even close. Any time I disagree with him—and I’ve done it on occasion—I usually turn out to be wrong.
Bilal Sarwary
Pull up a chair and listen to one of my favorite Afghan authors. The GOAT. Only on Shoulder to Shoulder
You can also find the episode on Spotify!
As always, thanks for reading our products!
Until Next Time
"EVERYBODY IN THE MILITARY HAS one superpower. Some are great gunslingers. Others are expert bureaucratic knife fighters. A precious few are master strategists. I am none of those things. However, my superpower was rare: I was great at befriending Afghans."
You have another superpower, Will: deeply powerful storytelling. You are the rare combat veteran that writes so well and with such passion that you help us understand the world in which you dwell: the U.S. military. That's critically important to me as a citizen, so I subscribed and will look forward to reading in the years ahead. I'm delighted Jonathan Last brought you into the Bulwark shop.