Brian Dominick
It’s
been a long time since I last wrote in depth about the US Army’s School of the
Americas, and the movement to shut it down. But living in Syracuse, a major
anti-SOA hotbed, this time of year it’s hard not to write or at least think
about the training center located in Fort Benning, GA. Each November it is the
site of major protests. This month marks the 10th anniversary of the
assassination of six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter, by
proud SOA graduates in El Salvador.
Last
fall, some three thousand activists "crossed the line" onto the
military base to deliver petitions contained in symbolic coffins. If this
November is like the past few, thousands more will add their bodies to the civil
disobedience on Sunday the 21st.
The
overall strength of the movement to close the School of the Americas has grown
steadily since the early 1990s when almost no one, even on the Left, was aware
of its existence, much less it’s policies and practices. The anti-SOA movement
has in many ways been inspirational to me. At the same time, I have long
questioned some elements of the strategy and outlook employed by the movement
and many of its leaders.
There’s
no question that the School is the US Army’s — and notably the CIA’s — primary
contact point for influencing Latin American militaries. The SOA is one of a
number of schools where Latin American troops receive training in the repression
strategy that has become known as Low-Intensity Conflict. SOA students —
typically officers hailing from a range of countries south of our borders —
learn the delicate arts of thwarting democracy, rebellion and essentially any
substantial trace of freedom. They learn to fight not against invading
militaries, but against peasants, civilians, and occasionally guerillas. Along
with the ever-expanding Drug War and arms trade industry, the SOA is a
significant feature of the United States’ ability to manipulate Latin American
military policies.
At
the same time, we need to look at the SOA in perspective. As part of the
Pentagon’s more comprehensive International Military Education & Training (IMET)
program, the School at Fort Benning is one of many which regularly train foreign
troops on US soil. While it may be the most prestigious and infamous of these
facilities, it is hardly the heart of the IMET program or the head of the
institutional worldview behind today’s military. I think many anti-SOA activists
are well aware of this, but most don’t seem to be, in my experience, which is
cause for concern. The question really is whether the SOA is the Achilles heel
of IMET and the ideology of foreign military influence — that is, can
resistance focused against the SOA strike a significant blow against the overall
policies? Or would shutting down the SOA lead to no significant changes?
My
feeling is that, objectively speaking, the closing (or more likely relocation)
of the SOA would be almost entirely insignificant, at least in the short term,
as far as the impact of counterinsurgency warfare on the people of Latin America
is concerned. It’s hard to believe that even a complete revocation of the SOA’s
relatively miniscule budget would save a single Latin American life. That’s just
the reality of how institutions work when they are part of much larger systems.
In
fact, as hard as it may be to admit, it’s quite likely that if the SOA is
relocated to the Caribbean or South America, it would become a far fiercer
college for wholesale terrorists. Well outside the oversight of SOA Watch and
other activist groups, the freedom afforded by secrecy could well find the
School training soldiers in far more severe tactics — as seems to have been the
case when it was located in Panama until 1984 — than it is presently allowed to
under intense public scrutiny and pressure.
Take
into account the (at least 17) other bases currently training Latin American
troops on US soil; as well as the very active presence of US Special Forces
throughout the hemisphere (notorious for training foreign soldiers in actual
torture by example, among other exploits); and one can’t help but wonder why the
Pentagon and Congress have fought so hard to keep the SOA running in Georgia.
There are several reasons. First, the SOA is a source of great pride to some in
the military (though also shame to perhaps many more). Additionally, the School
is currently considered a very special treat for Latin American officers who get
to pass in and out of the States without crossing through customs, and who are
taken on field trips to places like Disney World. Furthermore, we shouldn’t
forget Washington’s inability to admit it’s wrong-doings — in this case
particularly harsh policies that, after so many decades, are hard to pass off as
"mistakes" or aberrations.
Yet
objective factors are by no means the only, or even the most important, to
consider in evaluating the relevance of social movements. Despite some anti-SOA
movement leaders who have thus far failed to extrapolate the cause beyond this
one, relatively insignificant institution to the whole military-industrial
complex, the growing movement against the SOA has great potential for protracted
resistance to more generalized policies. Actor Martin Sheen may have humiliated
the more radical sectors of the anti-SOA movement last fall by pretending to
speak for the 7000 present when he proclaimed that the US Army is a "noble
institution" with a "proud tradition," and the protestors’ only
beef (yes, he said "we") was with the SOA in particular; but my hope
is most of the folks who’ve committed themselves to this cause are more aware of
reality than that.
The
key is to draw connections with other movements against war and militarism, at
the very least, and well beyond whenever possible. If SOA activists can continue
to build momentum until they achieve their goal, that will be significant. If
they can then use that momentum to fuel further resistance against the US’s
policies and practices of war, that would be truly wonderful.
One
of my criticisms of the anti-militarist Left in the States is our inability of
late to actively address war-making institutions in relative peacetime. The
anti-SOA movement is doing just that, recognizing that there is no peace so long
as the US is actively backing repressive regimes throughout the. So there’s
plenty the broad Left can learn from these dedicated individuals and affinity
groups.
The
conclusions I’ve arrived at after many years of intensive discussions of the
anti-SOA movement’s role in ending international violence are not perfectly
comfortable. I wish the movement was not so focused around one spectacular
institution, as those focuses tend not to be scalable — that is, they don’t
logically lead to anything beyond their myopic perspectives on specific
protests. Additionally, the overbearingly christian nature of the movement is
exclusive and, well, nauseating, at least to me.
However,
it’s quite possible that the elements I note as shortcomings are the greatest
assets of the anti-SOA circles. Plenty of non-christians have found their way
into the movement, and perhaps it’s one of few progressive milieux in which
christian activists can feel comfortable and appreciated. Young people are
finally beginning to penetrate the adult-dominated movement, and more people of
color seem to be taking notice. I see this all as signs of terrific improvement
and potential. If the anti-SOA leadership will just catch up with the more
radical and rational tendencies within the movement, begin looking beyond the
SOA and working for sustainability, become more inclusive with youth, non-christians,
and people of color in leadership roles, we stand a great chance of seeing
substantial strides made by an increasingly-integrated movement against the
military as a whole, and the other institutional forces which presently drive
it, including white supremacy, patriarchy, adultarchy, capitalism and
colonialism.
Brian
Dominick is an activist and journalist, presently working with the On the Ground
collective in Syracuse, NY. He has been writing about and standing against the
US Army School of the Americas since 1993.