[The imperial power that we veterans fought for abroad is the same
one some of us are now struggling against at home and the two
couldn’t be more intimately linked. Our struggle is, at least in
part, over who gets to define patriotism.] [[link removed]]

UNDERCOVER PATRIOTS   [[link removed]]

 

Danny Sjursen
July 9, 2020
Tom Dispatch
[[link removed]]


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_ The imperial power that we veterans fought for abroad is the same
one some of us are now struggling against at home and the two
couldn’t be more intimately linked. Our struggle is, at least in
part, over who gets to define patriotism. _

,

 

It was June 20th and we antiwar vets had traveled all the way to
Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the midst of a pandemic to protest President
Trump’s latest folly, an election 2020 rally where he was to parade
his goods and pretend all was well with this country.

We never planned to go inside the cavernous arena where that rally was
to be held. I was part of our impromptu reconnaissance team that
called an audible at the last moment. We suddenly decided
to infiltrate
[[link removed]] not just the
perimeter of that Tulsa rally, but the BOK Center itself. That meant I
got a long, close look at the MAGA crowd there in what turned out to
be a more than half-empty
[[link removed]] arena.

Our boots-on-the-ground coalition of two national antiwar veteran
organizations -- About Face
[[link removed]] and Veterans for Peace
[[link removed]] (VFP) -- had thrown together a
rather risky direct action event in coordination with the local
activists who invited us.

We planned to climb the three main flagpoles around that center and
replace an Old Glory, an Oklahoma state flag, and a Tulsa one with
Black Lives-themed banners. Only on arrival, we found ourselves
stymied by an eleventh-hour change in the security picture: new gates
and unexpected police deployments. Hopping metal barriers and
penetrating a sizable line of cops and National Guardsmen seemed to
ensure a fruitless trip to jail, so into the under-attended indoor
rally we went, to -- successfully it turned out -- find a backdoor
route to those flagpoles.

Once inside, we had time to kill. While others in the group
infiltrated and the flagpole climbers donned their gear, five of us --
three white male ex-foot soldiers in America’s forever wars and two
Native American women (one a vet herself) -- took a breather in the
largely empty upper deck of the rally. Nervous joking then ensued
about the absurdity of wearing the Trump “camouflage” that had
eased our entrance. My favorite disguise: a Hispanic ex-Marine
buddy’s red-white-and-blue “BBQ, Beer, Freedom” tank top.

The music irked me instantly. Much to the concern of the rest of the
team, I’d brought a notebook along and was already furtively
scribbling. At one point, we listened sequentially to Michael
Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” The Beatles’ “Let It Be,” and
Queen’s “We Are The Champions” over the arena’s loudspeakers.
I couldn't help but wonder how those artists would feel about the way
the Trump campaign had co-oped their songs. We can guess though, since
the late Tom Petty’s family quickly denounced
[[link removed]] the
use of his rock song “I Won’t Back Down” at the rally.

I watched an older white woman in a “Joe Biden Sucks, Nancy Pelosi
Swallows” T-shirt gleefully dancing to Michael Jackson’s falsetto
[[link removed]] (“But the
kid is not my son!”). Given that “Billie Jean” blatantly
describes an out-of-wedlock paternity battle and that odds were this
woman was a pro-life proponent of “family values,” there was
something obscene about her carefree shimmy.

A CONTRAST IN PATRIOTISM

And then, of course, there was the version of patriotism on display in
the arena. I’ve never seen so many representations of the Stars and
Stripes in my life, classic flags everywhere and flag designs
plastered on all manner of attire. Remember, I went to West Point. No
one showed the slightest concern that many of the red-white-and-blue
adaptations worn or waved strictly violated
[[link removed]] the statutes
colloquially known as the U.S. Flag Code (United States Code, Title 4,
Chapter 1).

That said, going undercover in Trumplandia means entering a universe
in which it’s exceedingly clear that one political faction holds the
flag hostage. They see it as _theirs_ -- and only theirs. They
define its meaning, its symbolism, and its proper use, not to speak of
whom it represents. The crowd, after all, was vanilla. (There were
more people of color serving beers than cheering the president.)

By a rough estimate, half of the attendees had some version of the
flag on their clothing, Trump banners, or other accessories, signaling
more than mere national pride. Frequently sharing space with Old Glory
were images of (often military-grade) weaponry, skulls (one wearing an
orange toupee), and anti-liberal slogans. Notable shirts included: the
old Texas War of Independence challenge
[[link removed]] “Come
And Take It!” above the sort of AK-47 assault rifle long favored by
America’s enemies; a riff on a classic Nixonian
[[link removed]] line,
“The Silent Majority Is Coming”; and the slanderous “Go To Your
Safe Space, Snowflake!”; not to mention a sprinkling of the purely
conspiratorial like “Alex Jones Did Nothing Wrong” (with a small
flag design on it, too).

The banners were even more aggressive. “Trump 2020: Fuck Your
Feelings” was a fan favorite. Another popular one
[[link removed]] photo-shopped
The Donald’s puffy face onto Sylvester Stallone’s muscle-bound
physique, a machine gun at his hip. That image, of course, had been
lifted from the Reagan-era, pro-Vietnam War film _Rambo: First Blood
Part II [[link removed]]_, a fitting
accompaniment to Trump’s classically plagiarized Reaganesque
rallying cry “Make America Great Again.” Finally, a black banner
[[link removed]] with
pink lettering read “L G B T.” Above the letters, also in pink,
were logos depicting, respectively, the Statue of Liberty, a Gun (an
M16 assault rifle), a Beer mug, and a profile bust of Donald Trump.
Get it?

For our small group of multi-war/multi-tour combat veterans, it was
hard not to wonder whether many of these flag-and-weaponry enthusiasts
had ever seen a shot fired in anger or sported Old Glory on a
right-shoulder uniform sleeve. Though we were all wearing standard
black veteran ball-caps
[[link removed]] and
overtly Trump-friendly shirts, several of us interlopers feared the
crowd might somehow guess what we actually were. Yet tellingly, the
closest we came to outing ourselves -- before later pulling off our
disguises to expose black “About Face: Veterans Against The
War” shirts
[[link removed]] -- was
during the national anthem.

Nothing better exemplified the contrast between what I’ve come
to think of
[[link removed]] as
the “pageantry patriotism” of the crowd and the more complex
“participatory patriotism” of the dissenting vets than that
moment. At its first notes -- we were still waiting in the arena’s
encircling lobby -- our whole team reflexively stood at attention,
removed our hats, faced the nearest draped flags, and placed our hands
upon our hearts. We were the only ones who did so -- until, at
mid-anthem, a few embarrassed passersby followed our example. Most of
the folks, however, just continued to scamper along, often chomping on
soft pretzels, and sometimes casting quizzical glances at us. Trumpian
patriotism only goes so far.

Our crew was, in fact, rather diverse, but mostly such vets groups
remain disproportionately white and male. In fact, one reason local
black and native communities undoubtedly requested our attendance was
a vague (and not unreasonable) assumption that maleness, whiteness,
and veteran’s status might offer their protests some semblance of
protection. Nevertheless, my old boss on West Point’s faculty,
retired Colonel Gregory Daddis
[[link removed]], summed up
[[link removed]] the limits of such
protection in this phrase: _“Patriotic” Veterans Only, Please_.
And just how accurate that was became violently apparent the moment we
“unmasked” at the base of those flagpoles.

Approximately three-dozen combat tours braved between us surely didn't
save our nonviolent team from the instant, distinctly physical rancor
of the police -- or four members of our group from arrest
[[link removed]] as
the climbers shimmied those flagpoles. Nor did deliberately visible
veteran’s gear offer any salvation from the instantly jeering crowd,
as the rest of us were being escorted to the nearest exit and tossed
out. “Antifa!” one man yelled directly into a Marine vet’s face.
Truthfully, America’s “thanks for your service
[[link removed]]”
hyper-adulation culture has never been more than the thinnest of
veneers. However much we veterans reputedly fought for “our
freedom,” that freedom and the respect for the First Amendment
rights of antiwar, anti-Trump vets that should go with it evaporates
with remarkable speed in such situations.

THREE STRANDS OF VETERAN OR MILITARY DISSENT

Still, the intensity of the MAGA crowd’s vitriol -- as suggested by
the recent hate mail both About Face and I have received -- is partly
driven by a suspicion that Team Trump is losing the military’s
loyalty. In fact, there’s evidence that something is indeed astir in
both the soldier and veteran communities the likes of which this
country hasn't seen since the tail end
[[link removed]] of
the Vietnam War, almost half a century ago. Today’s rising doubt and
opposition has three main components: retired senior officers, younger
combat veterans, and -- most disturbingly for national-security elites
-- rank-and-file serving soldiers and National Guardsmen.

[[link removed]]The
first crew, those senior officers, have received just about the only
media attention, even though they may, in the end, prove the least
important of the three. Many of the 89 former defense officials
[[link removed]] who
expressed “alarm” in a _Washington _Post op-ed over the
president’s response to the nationwide George Floyd protests, as
well as other retired senior military officers who decried President
Trump’s martial threats
[[link removed]] at
the time, had widespread name recognition. They included former
Secretary of Defense and retired Marine Corps General Jim (“Mad
Dog”) Mattis and that perennial latecomer
[[link removed]],
former Secretary of State and Joint Chiefs Chairman Colin Powell. And
yes, it’s remarkable that such a who’s-who of former military
leaders has spoken as if with one voice against Trump’s abhorrent
and inflammatory recent behavior.

Still, a little caution is in order before canonizing a crew that,
lest we forget, has neither won nor opposed
[[link removed]] a
generation’s worth of unethical wars that shouldn't have been
fought. Recall, for example, that Saint Mattis
[[link removed]] resigned
his post not over his department’s complicity in the borderline
genocide
[[link removed]] underway
in Yemen or pointlessly escalatory
[[link removed]] drone strikes in
Somalia, but in response to a mere presidential suggestion of pulling
U.S. troops out of the quicksand of the Syrian conflict.

In fact, for all their chatter about the Constitution, oaths betrayed,
and citizen rights violated, anti-Trumpism ultimately glues this
star-studded crew together. If Joe Biden ever takes the helm, expect
these former flag officers to go mute on this country’s forever wars
waged in Baghdad and Baltimore alike.

More significant and unique is the recent wave of defiance from
normally conservative low- to mid-level combat veterans, most, though
not all, a generation junior to the attention-grabbing ex-Pentagon
brass and suits. There were early signs of a shift among those
post-9/11 boots-on-the-ground types. In the last year, credible polls
[[link removed]] showed
that two-thirds of veterans believed the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq,
and Syria “were not worth fighting,” and 73% supported full
withdrawal from the Afghan War in particular. Notably, such rates of
antiwar sentiment exceed those of civilians, something for which there
may be no precedent.

Furthermore, just before the president’s controversial
[[link removed]] West
Point graduation speech, more than 1,000 military academy alumni
signed an open letter
[[link removed]] addressed
to the matriculating class and blatantly critical of Trump’s urge to
militarily crack down on the Black Lives Matter protests. Mainly
ex-captains and colonels who spanned
[[link removed]] graduating
classes from 1948 to 2019, they briefly grabbed mainstream headlines
with their missive. Robin Wright of the _New
Yorker_ even interviewed
[[link removed]] and
quoted a few outspoken signatories (myself included). Then there was
the powerful visual statement of Marine Corps veteran Todd Winn, twice
wounded in Iraq, who stood for hours
[[link removed]] outside
the Utah state capitol in the sweltering heat in full dress uniform
with the message “I Can’t Breathe” taped over his mouth.

At the left end of the veterans’ community, the traditional heart of
antiwar military dissent, the ranks of the organizations I belong to
and with whom I “deployed” to Tulsa have also swelled. Both in
that joint operation and in the recent joint Veterans for Peace
(largely Vietnam alumni) and About Face decision to launch a “Stand
Down for Black Lives” campaign
[[link removed]] --
encouraging and supporting serving soldiers and guardsmen to refuse
mobilization orders -- the two groups have taken real steps toward
encouraging multi-generational opposition to systemic militarism. In
fact, more than 700
[[link removed]] vets
publicly signed their names (as I did) to About Face’s provocative
open letter urging just such a refusal. There were even ex-service
members among the far greater mass of unaffiliated veterans
who joined
[[link removed]] protesters
in the streets of this country’s cities and towns in significant
numbers during that month or more of demonstrations.

Which brings us to the final (most fear-inducing) strand of such
dissent: those in the serving military itself. Their numbers are, of
course, impossible to measure, since such resistance can range from
the passive to the overt and the Pentagon is loathe to publicize the
slightest hint of its existence. However, About Face quickly
received scores of calls
[[link removed]] from
concerned soldiers and Guardsmen, while VFP reported
[[link removed]] the
first mobilization refusals almost immediately. At a minimum, 10
service members
[[link removed]] are
known to have taken “concrete steps” to avoid deployment to the
protests and, according to a _New York _magazine investigation
[[link removed]],
some troops were “reconsidering their service,” or “ready to
quit.”

Finally, there’s my own correspondence. Over the years, I’ve
received notes from distraught service members with some regularity.
However, in the month-plus since George Floyd’s death, I’ve gotten
nearly 100 such messages from serving strangers -- as well as from
several former West Point students turned lieutenants -- more, that
is, than in the preceding four years. Last month, one of those former
cadets of mine became the first West Point graduate in the last 15
years
[[link removed]] to
be granted conscientious objector status. He will complete his service
obligation as a noncombatant in the Medical Service Corps. Within 36
hours of that news spreading, a handful of other former students
expressed interest in his case and wondered if I could put them in
touch with him.

INTERSECTIONAL VETS

In a moment of crankiness this January, using a bullhorn pointed at
the University of Kansas campus, I decried the pathetic student
turnout at a post-Qasem Soleimani assassination rally against a
possible war with Iran. And it still remains an open question whether
the array of activist groups that About Face and Veterans for Peace
have so recently stood in solidarity with will show up for our future
antiwar endeavors.

Still, the growth across generations of today’s antiwar veterans’
movement has, I suspect, value in itself -- and part of that value
lies in our recognition that the problem of American militarism
isn’t restricted to the combat zones of this country’s forever
wars. By standing up for Black lives, pitching tents at Standing Rock
[[link removed]] Reservation
to fight a community-threatening pipeline, and similar solidarity
actions, this generation of antiwar veterans is beginning to set
itself apart in its opposition to America’s wars abroad and at home.

As both the Covid-19 crisis and the militarization
[[link removed]] of
the police in the streets of American cities have made clear, the
imperial power that we veterans fought for abroad is the same one some
of us are now struggling against at home and the two couldn’t be
more intimately linked. Our struggle is, at least in part, over who
gets to define patriotism.

Should the sudden wave of military and veteran dissent keep rising, it
will invariably crash against the pageantry patriots of Chickenhawk
America
[[link removed]] who
attended that Tulsa rally and we’ll all face a new and critical
theater in this nation’s culture wars. I don’t pretend to know
whether such protests will last or military dissent will augur real
change of any sort. What I do know is what my favorite rock star,
Bruce Springsteen, used to repeat
[[link removed]] before
live renditions of his song “Born to Run”: _Remember, in the end
nobody wins, unless everybody wins_.

_Danny Sjursen, a _TomDispatch_ regular_
[[link removed]]_,
is a retired U.S. Army major and former history instructor at West
Point. He served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, and now lives in
Lawrence, Kansas. He has written a memoir of the Iraq War, _Ghost
Riders of Baghdad: Soldiers, Civilians, and the Myth of the Surge
[[link removed]].
His latest book, Patriotic Dissent: America in the Age of Endless War
[[link removed]]_,
will be published in September. Follow him on Twitter
at _@SkepticalVet [[link removed]]_ and check out
his podcast “_Fortress on a Hill
[[link removed]]_."_

_Follow _TomDispatch_ on Twitter
[[link removed]] and join us on Facebook
[[link removed]]. Check out the newest Dispatch
Books, John Feffer’s new dystopian novel (the second in
the __Splinterlands__ series) _Frostlands
[[link removed]]_,__ Beverly
Gologorsky's novel _Every Body Has a Story
[[link removed]],_ and
Tom Engelhardt's _A Nation Unmade by War
[[link removed]]_,
as well as Alfred McCoy's _In the Shadows of the American Century:
The Rise and Decline of U.S. Global Power
[[link removed]]_ and
John Dower's _The Violent American Century: War and Terror Since
World War II
[[link removed]]_._

Copyright 2020 Danny Sjursen

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