Integrity, Disobedience, and Integrating my Professional Identity (a true story)

I recently came across an email I wrote in 2004--an email that empowered me to create this blog 20 years ago.  I'd like to share the story of that email. It was a defining moment for me in integrating my personal integrity and my professional identity.

In March, 2002, Military Review had published my first essay on war-related moral injury, "Military Leaders' Obligation to Justify Killing in War." That November, a New York Times Magazine article, "A Bulletproof Mind" by Peter Maas, quoted from my essay:

 

A recent article in Military Review, a magazine published every other month by the Army, warned that reflex-quick killing can be a psychological time bomb. “Training soldiers to kill efficiently is good for them because it helps them survive on the battlefield,” wrote Maj. Peter Kilner, who teaches philosophy at West Point. “However, training soldiers to kill without explaining to them why it is morally permissible to kill in combat is harmful…. When soldiers kill reflexively—when military training has effectively undermined their moral autonomy—they morally deliberate their actions only after the fact. If they are unable to justify what they have done, they often suffer guilt and psychological trauma.”

 

The articles led to a request by 60 Minutes for an interview, but Army Public Affairs forbid me to participate.  In fact, for the next 16 months, the Army Public Affairs HQ denied every media request I received, explaining to me that "killing is not a 'good news story' for the Army" and that it is mission-essential to maintain public support for the war by supporting only positive stories.

 

As I witnessed the problem of undiagnosed war-related moral injuries proliferate among veterans of Afghanistan and then Iraq in 2003-04, my conscience demanded that I speak out. In response to their latest rejection of a media request for me, I sent the following email to leaders in Army PAO:

 

[begin text of a reply email I wrote to HQ Army PAO]

 

One of my uncles returned from the Korean War as a highly decorated Marine.  He suffered from war-related mental-health issues and was, in the words of my grandmother, “never the same.”  He never talked about the war, and everyone was afraid to ask him about it.  But, no problem, the media never got word of his condition.

And the 50-ish guy working at the West Point blood drive in 1999 who screamed, “There’s no FUCKING morality in war” after I mentioned to him, in response to his small-talk question, that I taught a course on morality and war. Shaking and near tears, he told me he wasn’t ready to talk about the war yet.  After all, it had only been 30 years since his tour of duty.  But hey, no problem, the media never got word of it.

And the 1SG who had served in Desert Storm and who had killed two Iraqi soldiers point blank in a bunker.  He was in Walter Reed in 1997 when his former platoon leader, a classmate of mine, visited him after his second attempt at suicide.  My classmate talked with this emotionally destroyed former warrior, and he attributed the breakdown to the killing that his 1SG had done in battle.  But again, no problem, the media didn’t get hold of it.

And the PFC who killed himself several years after he fought with the Rangers in Mogadishu.  Like many of his buddies, he was afflicted by PTSD.  His platoon leader—another classmate of mine--and a senior NCO from his platoon both urged me to pursue the issue of combat-related PTSD, because they have seen what has happened to their soldiers.  But I don’t know what they’re worried about—after all, the media hasn’t gotten hold of the story.  No bad press, no problem.

And the Engineer platoon leader in the 3rd ID in the Battle for Baghdad—who was an absolute hero at a critical part of the battle.  He told me, “I’ve done more than my share of killing for my country.” The hollowness in his eyes betrayed a deep sadness.  But as long as he doesn’t talk to the media, no problem.

Gosh, I still remember it to this day, my commissioning oath, when I swore to never do anything that could risk the short-term public-relations image of the Army, even if I had to neglect the welfare of America’s sons and daughters.  To be honest, sometimes I do lose sight of my oath and find myself feeling a strong attachment to those who are willing to give their lives to ensure our country’s security.  And then I get an email like I did today from all of you and I’m reminded, soldiers are mere props for public relations. Thanks for setting me straight.

Perhaps I should, as you suggest, stick to talking only about CompanyCommand and PlatoonLeader [popular websites I helped run].  But here’s the catch. The fire within that compels me to serve company-level leaders also beckons me to serve all combat soldiers by doing whatever I can to protect their psyches.  The day I stop putting Soldiers and the Mission first is the day that my fellow professionals should tell me that I am no longer worthy to bear the title of Army officer.  

Despite my best intentions to serve God, country, community, and family, I am sure that some people will be able to say bad things about me when my days on earth are done.  But they will never be able to accuse me of moral cowardice.   

Peter G. Kilner

Major, United States Army

[end email]

I cc'd my boss at West Point, then-Colonel (now BG Retired) Barney Forsythe, on the email to HQ PAO.  He responded, "I'm proud to serve with you!"  I could not have asked for better support from my leaders.

After sending that email, I reached out to the journalist who had most recently contacted me, Dan Baum, and worked with him to develop a July 12, 2004, New Yorker cover story titled "The Price of Valor."  That story helped to generate national awareness on the moral and psychological costs of killing.

 

Note: If I were writing the email today, I would have referred to the combat veterans’ “moral injuries,” not “PTSD.”

I'm sharing this story  to encourage others to follow their consciences.  Yes, one colonel in PAO threatened to "destroy [my] career," but it turned out to be an empty threat.  I did what was right, and as much as I typically hate sarcasm, I still think that sarcasm was appropriate to convey my message. I am very grateful to all the people who have worked with me over the years (online and off-line) to advance ideas and generate conversations that have been healthy for soldiers, their loved ones, our country, and the profession of arms worldwide.

P.S. It's important to note that the Public Affairs officers could not legally forbid me from talking with media. They could only "strongly advise" against it and imply bad consequences. Regardless, by that point I had concluded that their gag order was immoral in the widest sense of the term.