On October 5, 2007 I watched Fort Huachuca, Arizona fade into the distance in my rearview mirror for the last time. I'd spent the past five months waiting for my chain-of-command to decide what to do with me: a newly minted Military Intelligence Officer who'd felt morally compelled to voice my dissent against the Bush administration's policies on Iraq. Finally the answer had come. Despite my expressed desire to remain in the Army in order to support our reconstruction efforts, I was involuntarily discharged for what was officially termed on my papers as "unacceptable conduct". I had dared to question our political masters' motives for invading and occupying Iraq and as a consequence I could no longer be trusted as a member of the tribe.

The time leading up to my dismissal from the Army was without question the darkest period of my life. After five years of arduous mental, emotional and physical preparation for a mission I had once deeply believed in, I was eventually compelled to recognize that behind the administration's well-constructed facade of altruism and national defense lay obscured ambitions of power and dominance. Like blows to the soul, the manipulation of intelligence, bribing of Iraqi journalists, torture of suspected insurgents, and attempts to gain control of the country's oil caused me to dread the direction our political leaders were taking us. My trust in a higher utilitarian cause, which enabled me to rationalize the death and destruction I observed from afar, gradually eroded and I found myself faced with the question of whether I could help the Iraqis in any meaningful way given the intentions of the political officials above me. I struggled with that question in the months leading up to my discharge and for many months after I left the Army. The conclusion I reached- and the consequent feeling of futility – deeply frustrates and pains me to this day.

Life, in my experience, is full of absurdity; yet on occasion it has a way of restoring one's faith in the power and potential of humanity. Recently I had the opportunity to go to Iraq in a much different capacity than what I'd been preparing myself for a year and a half earlier. At the suggestion of U.S. Labor Against the War I and another Army veteran, Aaron Hughes, were invited by a group of Iraqi labor leaders to attend the nation's first international labor conference. The event brought together trade unionists from all across the country to form an international defense against the corporate interests which have been circling overhead since the March 2003 invasion of Iraq.

As an Army veteran, I didn't know what to expect upon entering the country. Although I had not participated in the occupation, I still felt profoundly responsible as an American citizen for the conduct of my government. Several weeks earlier Aaron and I had been asked to speak at the conference and I recall the tremendous gravity of standing in front of over 200 Iraqis, many of whom had probably known someone who'd been killed under the occupation. What do you say to a people whose country you've devastated? I lost several nights of sleep in the week leading up to the conference trying to answer this question and had no idea what I was going to say upon taking the stage.

The next few moments were a blur as all of the emotions I'd kept suppressed for years came suddenly to the surface. I expressed anger toward American political and religious leaders, who have in the former case deliberately and in the latter inadvertantly perpetuated ignorance in this country regarding the Arab-Muslim world. I told my story: how I'd denounced the conduct of the Bush administration as an Army officer and was involuntarily discharged for my actions. “I'm sorry for what we've done to your country and I'm sorry for what we've done to your families,” I told them. Tears filled my eyes and I was forced to stop as I thought of the Iraqi mothers who've been forced to prostitute themselves to feed their children because of the destruction we've caused.

The Iraqis brought me back to the present as they stood up and, to my surprise, erupted with applause. Their expressions told me that though my words could not bring back their loved ones, they could let them know that they do not struggle alone. And with my words I will continue to struggle with them.

For the Iraqis who have suffered so much under the U.S. occupation; for the Americans who have fought with noble intentions in Iraq; for the history and future of our nation; and for my own sense of honor, I have voiced my dissent. I have asserted that the devastation of Iraq was not only the consequence of poor decision-making but also of cynical intent on the part of our highest political officials. In particular, by subordinating Iraqi sovereignty to the objective of gaining control over the country's oil, the Bush administration denied our military what it needed most to accomplish its ostensible mission: trust.

History shows us that for those more adept at the game of empire a large occupation force is unnecessary to maintain control of political/economic acquisitions. In the first half of the 20th century the British were able to maintain significant influence over the Iraqi government and economy for years after they'd withdrawn the vast majority of their military forces, laregly through legal, political, and financial mechanisms. (The Iraqis' memory of this humiliation explains in part their vigorous resistance to the American occupation.) In keeping with the traditions of our own struggle for independence, our task as Americans is to serve as a check on the power and conduct of our government and the corporate elites that influence it both at home and abroad. We can do this most effectively by circumventing media filters and engaging directly with the citizens of Iraq and other nations. As power becomes increasingly concentrated in the hands of a global elite which exploits with impunity across national boundaries, such a course of action can no longer be dismissed as altruistic or ideologically driven. On the contrary, it must be recognized as necessary to the preservation of our universal human rights.