Argentina’s General Videla and the “war on terror”

By Bill Van Auken, wsws.org

Gen. Videla during the Dirty War," in the late 1970s. One more bloody henchman for the US empire.

Gen. Videla during the “Dirty War,” in the late 1970s. One more bloody henchman for the US empire.

Gen. Jorge Rafael Videla died May 17 at the age of 87 as the result of injuries suffered from a fall in a prison shower. He was remembered as the head of a savage military dictatorship that between 1976 and 1983 murdered and “disappeared” some 30,000 Argentine workers, socialist militants, teachers, students and others perceived as “subversives,” while torturing at least 100,000 others. In his own country, newspapers that once backed his rule condemned him as a dictator and practitioner of state terror.

Yet one cannot help but suspect that within the military and intelligence apparatus in the US and Latin America—not to mention among the ruling financial interests that he served—the aged general’s passing has been mourned.

He was, after all, a pioneer in the “war on terrorism,” writing the textbook on methods of extra-constitutional rule, repression and state violence that have been largely embraced by ruling circles in Washington and elsewhere. Undoubtedly, there are those engaged in this line of work today who see him as something of a visionary.

gen.VidelaThree days before his death, the ex-dictator appeared as the principal defendant before an Argentine court hearing charges relating to Operation Condor, a [US coordinated] joint endeavor by Latin America’s ruling dictatorships of the 1970s to hunt down and murder one another’s opponents, wherever they might be found.

As in previous trials, Videla claimed a loss of memory about the events of that period, while unconditionally defending the actions taken by his regime and the military as necessary in an “anti-terrorist war.”

Operation Condor involved the combined efforts of military regimes in Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay and Uruguay, with indispensable logistical support and military aid from the Pentagon and the CIA.

It resulted in the abduction and murder of a number of individuals seen as opponents of the dictatorial regimes. This included the Washington, DC car bomb killing of Orlando Letelier, the former Chilean foreign minister in the Allende government, the assassinations of former Bolivian president Juan José Torres and former Uruguayan deputies Héctor Gutiérrez and Zelmar Michelini in Buenos Aires, and the assassinations of former Brazilian presidents Joao Goulart and Juscelino Kubitschek, whose deaths were made to appear, respectively, as a heart attack and a car accident.

In official US parlance, the methods employed under Condor are known as “rendition” and “targeted assassinations.” They would be well understood by today’s CIA and special operations personnel.

All of the Condor regimes were staffed by senior military personnel who had been trained at the Army’s School of the Americas in Panama and other US military facilities, and all of them had US military advisers, received substantial US military aid, and hosted well-staffed CIA stations.

Previously secret State Department documents make it clear that Washington understood Videla’s intentions from the beginning and fully supported them. One of these documents records an exchange between then-Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and his assistant secretary of state for Latin America, William Rogers, two days after Videla seized power.

Rogers told Kissinger that Washington must “expect a fair amount of repression, probably a good deal of blood, in Argentina before too long. I think they’re going to have to come down not only on the terrorists but on the dissidents of trade unions and their parties.”

While Rogers suggested delaying official recognition of the junta out of public relations concerns, Kissinger ordered full US support. “Whatever chance they have,” he stressed, “they will need a little encouragement from us.”

Among those involved in implementing this policy in 1976 were Richard Cheney, then the White House chief of staff, and Donald Rumsfeld, who was defense secretary. Twenty five years later, both would reemerge as principal architects of the US “global war on terror.”

With Washington’s blessing, Videla and his fellow officers set about what they dubbed the “process of national reorganization,” or el proceso.

Among its first steps was the suspension of basic democratic rights, including habeas corpus guarantees against imprisonment without charges or trials. The dictatorship outlawed unions and political parties and disbanded the legislature. Strikes and protests were turned into grave crimes against “national security.”

A network of clandestine prisons was set up, including the notorious dungeons of ESMA (the Navy School of Mechanics), the army’s Campo de Mayo, and scores of others scattered across the country. There, detainees were subjected to vicious forms of torture, including beatings, electric shocks, prolonged submersion in foul water, forced denial of sleep, extreme temperature and noise, attacks by trained dogs, simulated executions and sexual torture and humiliation.

Virtually all of these methods came into common usage at Guantanamo, Abu Ghraib and CIA “black sites” across the globe a quarter of a century later.

After being subjected to torture, the great majority of the victims were murdered, many of them drugged, loaded onto military aircraft and dropped naked to drown in the Rio de la Plata or the Atlantic Ocean.

The positive attitude of the US military toward the junta was reflected in an article appearing in the June 1978 edition of Parameters, the journal of the US Army War College, which noted approvingly that “General Jorge Rafael Videla, who heads Argentina’s military junta, has permitted the authorities to adopt more rigorous measures” against “terrorism.” It praised Videla as a “moderate committed to returning the country to democracy once the foundations have been established for stability.”

By this time, as one of the declassified State Department documents revealed, the official estimate of the number of Argentines murdered in this crusade for “stability” stood at 22,000.

Fully 40 percent of the junta’s victims were militant workers and union members. Torture centers were set up inside some of the country’s major factories, including a Ford auto plant. The Peronist union bureaucracy collaborated in this extermination campaign, helping to form death squads even before the military took power.

The repression had definite class and economic aims. The dictatorship managed to cut wages in half within its first year, reducing workers’ share of the national income from 48.5 percent to only 29 percent. Universal health care was abolished in favor of for-profit insurance companies, and other forms of social assistance were eliminated or drastically curtailed. In essence, the junta oversaw a vast transfer of social wealth from Argentine working people to the country’s ruling class, the transnational corporations and international finance capital.

This is not merely a matter of historical interest. Faced with the deepest economic crisis since the Great Depression of the 1930s, the ruling establishments in the US and internationally are attempting to effect a similar transfer of social wealth today. And, under the mantle of a “war on terror”—the same justification given by Videla—the US government, beginning with the Bush administration and accelerating under Obama, has already put in place the legal and institutional framework for Argentine-style repression.

The Obama administration has arrogated to itself the power to subject US citizens to indefinite military detention without charges or trials, i.e., to conduct “disappearances.” A White House that regularly draws up “kill lists” for assassinations and massacres abroad has specified that it can order such killings of American citizens residing within the US itself if it deems them “terrorist” enemies of the state.

Those who look at the horrors of Argentina under Videla’s junta and think, “It can’t happen here,” are only fooling themselves.

Bill Van Auken is a senior analyst with wsws.org, information arm of the Social Equality Party.




Guatemala’s Mayan Community Wins One For a Change

Efrain Rios Montt Sent to Jail

Reagan-Mont comp.preview

by John Grant 

I saw the masked men
throwing truth into a well.
When I began to weep for it
I found it everywhere.

– Claudia Lars (El Salvador)

Those of us who have struggled for peace and justice over the past decades don’t have much to celebrate these days. But the news from Guatemala that a female judge — Yasmin Barrios — was able to successfully manage a trial in that benighted nation and convict former President Efrain Rios Montt of genocide is something to rejoice about. It suggests it’s no longer business as usual in Latin America — especially vis-à-vis the United States.

The big stick of North American imperialism from Teddy Roosevelt to Ronald Reagan appears to be dwindling in size. The sentencing of a Guatemalan president to 80 years in prison [1] for employing scorched earth tactics against native Mayan Indians is an amazing milestone — and an incredible story to boot.

Following a 1954 US-directed coup that overthrew democratically elected President Jacobo Arbenz for his efforts at agrarian reform, the tiny Central American nation descended into a condition that can only be characterized, for the native Mayan people, as a state of Hell-on-Earth. The fact that President Rios Montt undertook his systematic slaughter of many thousands of Mayan peasants with the endorsement of Ronald Reagan only makes the conviction that much sweeter..

In the photograph (see above), at left, Ronald Reagan, “the Great Communicator,” meets with Rios Montt, who is holding a document titled “This government has the commitment to change.” At the time, Reagan said Rios Montt was “a man of great personal integrity and commitment” who wanted to “promote social justice.” At right, is a line of bodies from one of the Guatemalan army’s massacres of people who, no doubt, were deemed “communists” and, therefore, inhuman and justifiably slaughtered like vermin.

Army General Efrain Rios Montt became president of Guatemala thanks to a coup in March 1982. He was, then, deposed by another coup in August 1983. This was a time when Mr. Reagan was hypnotizing the American people with his aw-shucks, soothing Hollywood narcotic speech tones.

Previous to the supportive Reagan administration, the Carter administration had cut off military aid to the Guatemalan military. But, then, our representatives in Washington cut a deal with Israel [2] to arm the Guatemalan army and, thanks to lots of experience with Palestinians, to teach them how to monitor and keep track of the Mayans utilizing computerized records and other hi-tech tricks. Rios Montt reportedly once told ABC News that his success was due to the fact that “our soldiers were trained by Israelis.”

What arguably prepared the ground for the Rios Montt trial was the 1998 murder of Bishop Juan Gerardi, bludgeoned to death by a cinder block in his garage in Guatemala City. Gerardi directed the Guatemalan arch-diocese’s human rights agency, known by the acronym ODHA. Two days before his murder on April 26, ODHA had released a document titled Nunca Mas or Never Again, a four-volume document that detailed the horrors of the 70s and 80s.

Francisco Goldman [3] followed the case for years and wrote an incredible account called The Art of Political Murder: Who Killed the Bishop? It is a labyrinthine and bizarre tale complicated with death threats, charges of homosexual priests and a German shepherd named Baloo. After three years, three military men were convicted and sentenced to thirty years each for the murder. During the trial, one of those men, Colonel Byron Disrael Lima Estrada, said he was “just the point of the spear. Once they’ve created a judicial precedent, then they’re going to go after the others.”

“For half a century the military’s clandestine world had seemed impregnable,” Goldman writes. “The Gerardi case had opened a path into the darkness.” The bishop had been murdered because his work for the poor of Guatemala had directly threatened the “clandestine underbelly of official power — and their criminal rackets.”

Murdered Bishop Juan Gerardi, left, ODHA's Nunca Mas report, and Bishop Mario Rios MontMurdered Bishop Juan Gerardi, left, ODHA’s Nunca Mas report, and Bishop Mario Rios Mont

The Gerardi story literally intersects with the Rios Montt story. With the death of Bishop Gerardi, the archdiocese appointed the brother of Efrain Rios Montt — Catholic Bishop Mario Rios Mont [4] (unlike his brother, he spells his surname with a single “t”) — as director of ODHA, the human rights office. It seems the two brothers were diametrically opposed on the politics of the poor, with Mario assuming some liberation theology views. This may explain why General and President Rios Montt abandoned Catholicism and became a born-again evangelical protestant using apocalyptic language out of The Book of Revelations. At the time, Rios Montt was a personal friend of Pat Robertson [5]. (You may recall it was Robertson who on TV publicly called for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez.)

In what now seems a weirdly prescient remark, during the Gerardi murder trial Bishop Rios Mont said this, referring to the Guatemalan military’s immense clandestine power: “…as long as this power behind the throne exists, Guatemala will not be free, nor will it have justice or peace. Here, presidents come, and presidents go. Just when we thought we’d recovered an environment that made it possible to live in peace, they answered: Here take your dead man, who tried to discover the truth.”

I made ten trips to Central America in the 1980s and ‘90s as a documentary photographer. It was a time when anyone trying to call attention to this kind of violence could get nowhere in North America. I knew of the slaughter in Guatemala, so it’s hard to swallow the idea that the US government did not. The Reagan administration came in denouncing the Carter human rights focus and began to aggressively stir up war in the region. It armed and trained ex-soldiers of the Nicaraguan tyrant Anastasio Somoza’s dreaded guardia in what became known as the Contra War. Reagan’s highly publicized labeling of the Contras as “freedom fighters” aside, it was basically a terrorist war of hit and run attacks on pro-Sandinista villages and enterprises, with the Contras being directed out of neighboring Honduras by US Ambassador John Negroponte.

The US sent advisers to El Salvador, and as the death squad bodies piled up, the Reagan administration certified every six months that improvements were being made.

Having spent time in Central America then and having met so many wonderful people trying to free themselves of the yoke of oppression, the only downside to the conviction of Rios Montt for genocidal murder is that Ronald Reagan can’t be given a similar trial and packed away to some super-max in the desert. Sure, I carry some bitterness from those years. They were extremely frustrating times for anyone with any compassion for the poor in Central America.

I recall trying to explain to my Reagan-loving father what it was like to listen to a Salvadoran woman tell about finding her 23-year-old daughter in a body dump tortured and skinned. I’ll never forget the sadness and horror in her eyes as she willed herself to share her horrific tale so we visiting gringos might pass it North.

When I told my dad of this stuff, he would grimace at his rebellious middle son — not because of the story or the woman’s suffering, but as if he were echoing Ronald Reagan: “There you go again!” The more horrible the story, the more I was dismissed as a dupe of left wing communists. It was impossible to get through the point that we were supporting and condoning monstrous behavior. Suffering that was connected to our policies simply did not register. I recall a workmate who suggested one day at lunch that because of my traveling in Central America I knew less than she did from watching television.

It really began to sink in that the most powerful nation in the world was nursing a deep mythic assumption that Americans and America were exceptional; somehow we were being victimized by these little countries in Central America. The peasants being consumed by incredible violence deserved whatever they got for what they had done to us.

A shrink might point out that we North Americans had done our own versions of scorched earth in bombing campaigns in Vietnam and Laos. We did this because the Vietnamese refused our demands that they capitulate and give up the idea of independence. They would not budge, so we had to bomb them. They were trying to humiliate us in the world’s eyes, and we had to stand up to them.

How long can we delude ourselves with the Myth of Exceptionalism? How many more massacres and bombing atrocities do we have to refuse to see before the scales fall from the eyes of a critical mass of Americans? How much more bullshit do we have to take?

.

The photos, here, show three Mayans who testified to atrocities in the Rios Montt trial. They are, from left to right, Juana Sanchez Toma; Benjamin Jeronimo, president and legal representative of the Association for Justice and Reconciliation that advocated for the trial; and Elena de Paz Santiago, who told of being beaten and gang-raped repeatedly by soldiers. Jeronimo told the blog democraticunderground.com [6] that young Guatemalans “have to know what a dirty war is, a war in which people were taken advantage of, who had no way of defending themselves, and were not guilty of what they were being accused.”

“We showed them we are not communists,” Antonio Caba told The New York Times [1] as he wiped away tears. “We are simply villagers.”

The conviction and sentencing of Efrain Rios Montt to an effective life prison term is an important milestone. Something has been broken and overcome in Guatemala. While the Guatemalan right is certainly not without resources, the poor have clearly gained a degree of power in a very dark system.

Ricardo Falla, a Jesuit priest in Guatemala, wrote a powerful book called Massacres In the Jungle: Ixcan, Guatemala, 1975-1982 documenting all the horrors revealed in the Rios Montt trial. He writes, “Seeds of new life have emerged from the massacres.” He metaphorically refers to the horrors as “fertilizer that makes the earth fruitful, blossoming with something new.” A strong bond has been formed out of horror. “Weeping is accompanied by another sign of life: the feeling of brotherhood, which overrides family, language, and ethnic and religious barriers — their shared bond as people who have lost everything.”

As a nation and a people, we don’t know anything about victimhood, and it’s past time we moved beyond that delusion.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

John Grant is a writer/photographer/filmmaker living just outside Philadelphia’s city limits. He has worked as a newspaper reporter and has published both fiction and non-fiction. Starting in the 1980s, he traveled to Central America and other places as a documentary photographer for publication and for exhibits of his own large prints. He shot and edited an 80-minute documentary film called “Second Time Around” about a seriously wounded Vietnam veteran who chose to live and work in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, 35 years after his first tour there. John has been to Iraq twice during the war, once as an observer critical of the war and once as a cameraman on a documentary film.

John Grant
John Grant

A Vietnam War veteran for 25 years, John has been an active member of Veterans For Peace. For 11 years, he was president of the Philadelphia VFP chapter. He has taught documentary photography at Widener and Drexel Universities and for nine years has taught creative writing to inmates in the Philadelphia Prison.

 

Source URL: http://www.thiscantbehappening.net/node/1747

Links:
[1] http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/11/world/americas/gen-efrain-rios-montt-of-guatemala-guilty-of-genocide.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
[2] http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/91666/linked-arms
[3] http://inthesetimes.com/article/3498/
[4] http://www.sfgate.com/politics/article/Brothers-at-odds-Ex-dictator-Guatemalan-bishop-2883581.php
[5] http://www.counterpunch.org/2005/09/17/rev-pat-robertson-and-gen-rios-montt/
[6] http://www.democraticunderground.com/110816444




Peace in Our Time: Obama’s Munich, Part I

[From our archives, originally published 12/08/2010]

"Peace in our time!" Yet one more piece of evidence to distrust official histories.

“Peace in our time!” Do governments ever speak without a forked tongue?

BY STEVEN JONAS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 




Bursting the Thatcher Bubble

Martin Argles/eyevine/ZUMAPress

The canonization of Margaret Thatcher began with nanoseconds of news reports that the former British prime minister and conservative icon had died at the age of 87. On MSNBC, my pal Chuck Todd remarked, “We lionize her over here.” There was insta-commentary about how she saved Britain from economic despair and the rest of the world from the Soviets (with some help from a guy named Ronald Reagan). Excess ruled. Two small examples: Elizabeth Colbert Busch, the Democrat running for Congress in South Carolina (and sister of Stephen Colbert) issued this statement: “When I talk to younger women about their careers, I point to Margaret Thatcher as a role model; she’s a tough consensus builder who cared about everybody and put her country’s fiscal house in order.” Rep. Steve Stockman (R-Texas) proclaimed,

Thatcher was no consensus builder; she was divisive. She set out to crush unions, privatize, undercut the social safety net (where she could), and push free-market policies that led to the deregulatory nightmares of the future. (Just watch Billy Elliot—or listen to the Clash.) She joined with Reagan in support of torturers and human rights abusers around the globe, as long as these folks were opposed to the Soviets. She called Nelson Mandela a “terrorist” and would not join the worldwide crusade against the racist apartheid regime of South Africa. (In 2006, Conservative Party leader David Cameron felt obliged to disown Thatcher’s and his party’s previous opposition to Mandela and his African National Congress.) She supported Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet. Her war in the Falklands struck many as an orchestrated stunt, not an act of necessity—though some have seen that military action as a noble blow against Argentina’s fascist junta (which the Reagan administration was supporting).

Her economic policies were harsh. She pushed the so-called poll tax—a tax to fund local government—that resulted in shifting the tax burden from the well-to-do toward lower-income Brits. This tax provoked riots—literally—and was so unpopular that her successor, John Major, replaced it. And as Bruce Bartlett, an economist who served in the Reagan administration noted two years ago, Thatcher shifted the overall tax burden from top to bottom. She cut the top personal income tax rate from 83 percent to 60 percent, but raised the lowest rate from 25 percent to 30 percent. To pay for her tax cuts, she nearly doubled the value-added tax from 8 percent to 15 percent. (Some American conservative economists howled about this.) As Bartlett put it, “Thatcher’s fiscal accomplishments were much more modest than many of today’s Republicans think.” (Here’s a quick assessment of her overall economic policies.)

long obit in the Guardian by Michael White cites her “willpower and courage” and maintains that Thatcherism “changed the way Britons viewed politics and economics, as well as the way the country was regarded around the world.” But the article notes certain facts necessary for any balanced appraisal:

  • She defeated the unions—especially the miners, in a series of challenges. But most deep-mine pits in England ended up closing.
  • Her political career essentially ended when her own Cabinet told her that due to the unpopularity of her policies she should step down and allow another Conservative Party member to lead their party.

Thatcher was a historic figure. But that does not mean she was a great leader. (For a vitriolic assessment of her years in power, read this.) She was not the total conservative that American right-wingers have worshipped for years. She regarded climate change as a serious threat. Her government moved early against HIV/AIDS and outlawed corporal punishment. But in the aftermath of the demise of the Iron Lady, the first woman to become a British prime minister is generally being lauded from the US right and the middle as a hero for her country and the globe. This Thatcher bubble will not last forever.

support for the Khmer Rouge.




My Lai 45 Years Later—And the Unknown Atrocities of Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan

Remembering My Lai—

By Nick TurseGlobal Research, March 19, 2013

Survivors recall their memories in 2000 of the mass killing of fellow villagers by U.S. soldiers during the Vietnam War, in My Lai, Vietnam. (Nick Ut/AP)

Survivors recall their memories in 2000 of the mass killing of fellow villagers by U.S. soldiers during the Vietnam War, in My Lai, Vietnam. (Nick Ut/AP)

On the anniversary of the infamous My Lai massacre, Nick Turse recalls the numerous, less-well-known atrocities that marked the Vietnam War, and asks which atrocities from Iraq and Afghanistan we will be remembering in 45 years.

 

Forty-five years ago today, March 16, roughly 100 U.S. troops were flown by helicopter to the outskirts of a small Vietnamese hamlet called My Lai in Quang Ngai Province, South Vietnam. Over a period of four hours, the Americans methodically slaughtered more than 500 Vietnamese civilians. Along the way, they also raped women and young girls, mutilated the dead, systematically burned homes, and fouled the area’s drinking water.

In this day, I think back to an interview I conducted several years ago with a tiny, wizened woman named Tran Thi Nhut. She told me about hiding in an underground bunker as the Americans stormed her hamlet and how she emerged to find a scene of utter horror: a mass of corpses in a caved-in trench and, especially, the sight of a woman’s leg sticking out at an unnatural angle which haunted her for decades. She lost her mother and a son in the massacre. But Tran Thi Nhut never set foot in My Lai. She lived two provinces north, in a little hamlet named Phi Phu which—she and other villagers told me—lost more than 30 civilians to a 1967 massacre by U.S. troops.

I remember Pham Thi Luyen who lived several provinces north in Trieu Ai village, Quang Tri Province. Decades old Marine Corps court martial records—which told a story of scared and angry Americans under command of an officer bent on revenge for recent casualties—led me to her hamlet. There, she and other survivors told me what it was like to live through a night of sheer terror, in October 1967, when Americans threw grenades into bomb shelters with women and children inside and gunned down men and women in cold blood. It was the night that Pham Thi Luyen became an orphan and 12 fellow villagers died.

I think of Bui Thi Huong who was, according to court-martial records, gang-raped in Xuan Ngoc hamlet by five Marines while her mother-in-law, sister-in-law, husband, and 3-year-old son were shot dead. Her 5-year-old niece was slain too, but by another method. The Marine who killed her did so by “mashing up and down with his rifle,” according to a fellow unit member. Another recalled, “I said one… two… three… And he was hitting the baby with the [rifle] butt!”

I recall too my conversations with Pham Thi Cuc, Le Thi Chung, and Le Thi Xuan who told me about a 1966 massacre by Americans in My Luoc hamlet that claimed the lives of 16 civilians. I think of Vi Thi Ngoi, an elderly woman who told me about the day American and South Korean troops opened fire on more than 100 of her fellow villagers and of the bodies that fell on her tiny frame, shielding her from the bullets. I remember how she explained what it felt like to lie there, for what seemed like an eternity, feigning death, amid the blood and viscera of friends and neighbors.

I think about young American men who shot down innocents in cold blood and then kept silent for decades. I think about horrified witnesses who lived with the memories.

Survivors recall their memories in 2000 of the mass killing of fellow villagers by U.S. soldiers during the Vietnam War, in My Lai, Vietnam. (Nick Ut/AP)

I remember my time spent talking with Jamie Henry, decades after he had been a young draftee and then a decorated medic. Just over a month before the My Lai massacre, Henry’s unit entered a small hamlet, rounded up the civilians—about 19 women and children—and gathered them together. A lieutenant asked his superior, a West Point-trained captain, what he should do with them. As Henry later told an Army criminal investigator in a sworn statement: “The captain asked him if he remembered the op order [operation order] that had come down from higher [headquarters] that morning which was to kill anything that moves. The captain repeated the order. He said that higher said to kill anything that moves.” Henry tried to intervene, but instead could only watch as fellow unit members opened fire on the civilians. An Army investigation determined the massacre occurred just as Henry said it did, but no action was taken against any of the troops involved, while the files were kept secret and buried away for decades.

In short, on this anniversary, I think of all the My Lais that most Americans never knew existed and few are aware of today. I think about young American men who shot down innocents in cold blood and then kept silent for decades. I think about horrified witnesses who lived with the memories. I think of the small number of brave whistleblowers who stood up for innocent, voiceless victims. But most of all, I think of the dead Vietnamese of all the massacres that few Americans knew about and fewer still cared about.

I think of the victims in Phi Phu and Trieu Ai and My Luoc and so many other tiny hamlets I visited in Vietnam’s countryside. And then I think of all the villages I never visited; the massacres unknown to all but the dwindling number of survivors and their families; the stories we Americans will likely never know.

I wonder if, 45 years hence, someone might be writing a similar op-ed about civilian lives lost these past years in Iraq or Afghanistan, Pakistan or Yemen; about killings kept under wraps and buried in classified files or simply locked away in the hearts and minds of the perpetrators and witnesses and survivors. Four and half decades from now, will we still reserve only this day to focus on these hard truths and hidden histories? Or will we finally have learned the lessons of the My Lai massacre and the many other massacres that so many wish to forget and so many others refuse to remember.

Nick Turse is a journalist, historian, and the author of Kill Anything that Moves: The Real American War in Vietnam. Turse’s work has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, and The Nation, among other publications. His investigations of U.S. war crimes in Vietnam have gained him a Ridenhour Prize for Reportorial Distinction, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and a fellowship at Harvard University’s Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study.

Copyright © 2013 Global Research