Hazing hell in Afghanistan

Initiation rituals in the army may have led to the deaths of two Chinese Americans this year. Is cru

In October, a 19-year-old army private called Danny Chen climbed into a guard tower in Afghanistan and shot himself in the head. According to the Chinese-American soldier's relatives, his comrades had subjected him to a painful process of "hazing" and racial abuse, including pelting him with stones and ordering him to do pull-ups with a mouthful of water, which he was prohibited from spitting out or swallowing. In a surprise announcement on 21 December, the army announced that eight of his comrades would be charged for offences ranging from assault to involuntary manslaughter.

This was the second such case in six months. In August, three marines were charged with mistreating another Chinese-American soldier, Harry Lew, who killed himself while stationed in Afghanistan. Lew, who had allegedly been stomped, kicked and tormented, was found dead in a foxhole that he had dug for himself. He had written on his arm, "May hate me now but in the long run, this was the right choice. I'm sorry. My mom deserves the truth."

Racism and bullying in the military are nothing new but for those outside the US, the concept of hazing rituals is hardly explicable. In the 2004 book The Hazing Reader, edited by Hank Nuwer, Stephen Sweet lists incidents of college students harmed or even dying while pledging to join fraternities: some were buried alive, others were shocked with electrical charges or pressured to drink far in excess of their capacity. The willingness of young men and women to submit themselves to degrading and sometimes dangerous acts, designed specifically to humiliate them, is as bizarre as the willingness of others to inflict such cruelty on their peers, colleagues or comrades. Is this a uniquely American predicament, and if so, why?

Hazing is all too easily explained (and even justified) as a means of cementing bonds within a group - but surely underlying any sense of belonging that it may induce is the assumption that, for those bonds to matter, a species of isolation from others not initiated through the ritual is necessary. To enter into a group through hazing is, in effect, to step out of the rest of the world and its rules. Or, at least, it is to position yourself as a member of a chosen people, separate from the rest. In many ways, it is a natural, microcosmic extension of that particularly American notion of exceptionalism: ever since the Puritan lawyer John Winthrop delivered his 1630 sermon exalting America as a "city on the hill" upon which the "eyes of all people" gazed, the nation has believed in its own otherness, even as its culture and political power grew more and more dominant across the world. The frontier is where it all began and the mythology of the United States remains rooted there.

The "true" American must play the role of the outsider: the Davy Crockett, the Billy Bonney. Look to the Tea Party or the Westboro Baptists - each group is besotted with its own outlaw fantasy. Yet to be a genuine outsider is unthinkable. Dan Choi, an Iraq war veteran who was forced out of the army under "don't ask, don't tell", recently told Public Radio International that being an Asian American in the military was a lonely experience. Racism was rife but he endured abuse in order to "fit in": "I wanted to joke and make other people feel comfortable . . . In the army, you're taught if you stick out, there will be consequences. If you look different, you're starting off with that additional burden."

Seen in this light, Chen's hazing and its outcome are more complex than yet another "isolated incident" of needless cruelty, as Martin Dempsey, chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, insists. Humiliation has long been used to establish or normalise social relations; indeed, the social scientist Evelin Lindner pointed out in 2006, "In the English-speaking world, humiliation was not seen as hurtful until about 250 years ago." "For millenia," she wrote, "people believed that it was normal and morally correct to have masters and underlings." In hierarchical environments such as the military, this power relationship is bound to be more pronounced than elsewhere. Ten years before Lindner, the social psychologist Alexander Durig described the "mind of the individual" as principally motivated by "fear [or] need of humiliation . . . We often learn to respect those who humiliate us. Conversely, we often learn to humiliate those who respect us."

Chen, like Choi, seems to have initially taken the abuse hurled at him on the chin. This was the army, after all. In a letter to his family, quoted in the New York Times, he wrote: "Everyone here jokingly makes fun of me for being Asian." In another: "People crack jokes about Chinese people all the time; I'm running out of jokes to come back at them." After his suicide, a Pentagon spokesman said that soldiers "treat each other with respect and dignity" but this platitude rings hollow. What to the insider are "jokes", to the outsider - the ethnic minority, the gay man, the lesbian - can be slow psychological torture. The US army claims that hazing is prohibited and insists that there is no racism in its ranks but the activist Kwong Eng seems correct to argue that "the culture allows it to happen".

Researchers have shown that those who perceive themselves to be targets of bullying experience high levels of stress and are less likely to trust the established avenues of redress. With little prospect of official intervention, Chen no doubt felt compelled to play along. Maybe his fellow soldiers saw the brutality they allegedly inflicted upon him as a form of initiation ritual. Maybe not. Yet the fearful desperation of a culture that requires such horrific customs has, once again, been dragged out into the light. Eight men are being charged but the issue cannot be resolved through the punishment of scapegoats alone.

The incident has been presented as a crisis of poor discipline. It is also, on some level, a crisis of national values and identity. While US popular culture glamourises the outsider, many are terrified enough by the prospect of being at the bottom of the social pecking order to assert their insider status by humiliating - literally, "bringing to the ground" - weaker peers. Bullying and racism are not unique to American culture but in few other nations is the question of belonging so central an anxiety.

Yo Zushi is a sub-editor of the New Statesman. His work as a musician is released by Eidola Records.

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Q&A: Would Brexit really move “the Jungle” to Dover?

The 2003 Le Touquet treaty was negotiated outside the EU.

What is David Cameron’s most recent claim about Britain leaving the EU?

The Prime Minister is claiming that Brexit could result in France ending the agreement by which British immigration officials carry out checks on those seeking to enter the UK in France.  

More specifically, Cameron thinks that a vote to leave the EU would give the French government an excuse to revoke the Le Touquet treaty of 2003, and that this would cause refugee camps akin to the Calais “Jungle” to spring up along the English south coast.

What’s the Le Touquet treaty?

In February 2003, Tony Blair went to the northern French resort of Le Touquet to try and persuade President Jacques Chirac to support British and American military action in Iraq. (He failed). 

Blair and Chirac hogged the headlines, but on the summit’s sidelines, Home Secretary David Blunkett and his French counterpart, an ambitious young politician named Nicolas Sarkozy, negotiated a treaty establishing juxtaposed controls at each country’s sea ports.

This agreement meant that British border police could set up and run immigration checkpoints at Calais – effectively moving the British border there from Dover. The treaty also enabled French border police to carry out checks in Dover.

British border police had already been operating at French Eurostar terminals since 2001, and manning the French entrance to the Eurotunnel since 1994.

What’s all this got to do with the EU?

Technically, nothing. The Le Touquet treaty is a bilateral agreement between the UK and France. Both countries happen to be member states of the EU, but the negotiations took place outside of the EU’s auspices.

That's why eurosceptics have reacted with such fury today. Arron Banks, the co-founder of Leave.EU, said the Prime Minister was “resorting to scaremongering”, while Ukip’s migration spokesperson, in a surprising role-reversal, said that Cameron’s argument was “based on fear, negativity, and a falsehood”.

Cameron’s claim appears to be that Brexit would represent such a profound shift in the UK’s relationship with other European states that it could offer France an excuse to end the agreement reached at Le Touquet. That is debatable, but any suggestion that the treaty would instantly become void in the event of a vote to leave is untrue.

Does France actually want to revoke the treaty?

Local politicians in Calais, and in particular the town’s mayor, have been arguing for months that the treaty should be abandoned. Le Monde has also criticised it. The current French Interior Minister, Bernard Cazeneuve, hinted today that he agreed, saying that a British vote to leave “will always result in countermeasures”.

On the BBC's Today programme this morning, Rob Whiteman, a former head of the UK Border Agency, said that it was “almost certain” that the treaty would end if the UK left the EU. He said that France has benefited less from the deal than it expected:

“I think at the time the French felt there would be an upside for them, in that if it was clear that people could not easily get to Britain it would stop Sangatte building up again. The camp was closed. But history has shown that not to be the case. The French authorities still have a huge amount of pressure on their side.”

That said, the French government receives money from the British to help police Calais and its camps, and various French officials have acknowledged that their ports would receive even more traffic if refugees and migrants believed that it was easier to travel  to the UK than before.

If the treaty ended, would “the Jungle” just move to Dover?

There’s little doubt that because of linguistic and familial ties, and perhaps the perception that the UK is more welcoming than France, many refugees and migrants would come to the UK as quickly as they could to claim asylum here.

Whiteman also said on Today that since the 2003 agreement, the annual number of asylum claims in the UK had declined from 80,000 to around 30,000. So the UK could expect a significant spike in claims if the treaty were to end.

But the British asylum process makes it unlikely that anything like “the Jungle” would spring up. Instead, those claiming asylum would be dispersed around the country or, if authorities are worried they would flee, held in an immigration detention centre.

Why is Cameron saying this now?

This looks suspiciously like one of the Tories' election strategist Lynton Crosby’s dead cats. That is, in an effort to distract his critics from the detail of the renegotiation, the PM has provoked a row about migrants and refugees. Cameron is clearly keen to move the debate on from the minutiae of different European agreements to bigger questions about security and terrorism. Though getting bogged down in competing interpretations of a treaty from 2003 may not be the best way to move onto that broader terrain.