Words From Camilo

Any of these writings may be reprinted for public use.

Prisoners of Conscience: Peace Doesn't Come Easily

Just about a year a go I was tried by a special Court-martial at Fort Stewart, Georgia. The charge: desertion with the intent to avoid hazardous duty. My case received a lot of attention from the media, mainly because I was the first Iraq veteran to have been to combat, returned on a two-week furlough, and publicly refused to return to Iraq while denouncing the war as illegal, and who then surrendered himself to military authorities. For the first time since the invasion of Iraq the military had to deal with the delicate issue of public dissent within the ranks.

The command at Fort Stewart restricted me to the base, and never allowed me to leave even to confer with my attorneys, and requests to travel with them to Florida, and to meet with them off the base, all to help them prepare a better case, were all denied. I was housed in a barracks building with about ten rooms, yet I was the only one there. Between my surrender and the Court-martial, reporters were told they could interview me off base, while I was told I could give interviews, but was prohibited from leaving the fort.

On the day of my trial, access to the base was restricted to military personnel, my attorneys, and a few family members. Everyone else was directed to gate number three, but the signs leading to that gate were taken down during the three days of my trial. The entire block of the courthouse was barricaded, and there were civilian and military police officers patrolling the area, and they had trained dogs sniffing the area. Reporters were contained in a media center about a mile away from the courthouse, and everyone's computers, cameras, recording devices, and cell phones were confiscated prior to entering the courtroom.

All of our pretrial motions were struck down, and many key witnesses and crucial pieces of evidence were not allowed in the case. Violations of army regulations by my unit, and violations of international law and the supreme law of the land by the military, were readily ignored, and the prosecution was allowed to bring the entire case down to the question of whether I got on a plane or not, thus receiving an easy, undeserved victory.

Before the end of the trial, members of my unit had already been to my barracks room. When my relatives got to my quarters to claim my belongings, immediately after the sentencing, the room had been swept clean. But the raiders forgot to take the lock they cut in order to get to my wall-locker. My mother later used that lock in a press conference to show the military had packed my things even before they could know I was going away. An officer then quickly approached my mother to kindly escort her to where my possessions had been taken.

But not even a year after being sent to a confinement facility in Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where I spent nine months of a twelve-month sentence, I found myself in San Diego's 32nd Street Naval Station, where Petty Officer 3rd Class Pablo Paredes was being tried by a special Court-martial. The charges: Unauthorized Absence and Missing Movement.

His case, like mine, received much attention, not because of the nature of his charges, but because on December 6th of last year, Pablo publicly denounced the war as criminal and illegal while refusing to board his ship, the USS Bonhomme Richard, before it left for the war in Iraq.

The military judge found Pablo guilty of Missing Movement but not guilty of Unauthorized Absence, and even though the sentence included two months of hard labor and three months of restriction within the base, Pablo received no jail time, and no punitive discharge from the Navy. The same day of Pablo's Court-martial, a military judge from Fort Stewart, found that Army Sergeant Kevin Benderman, another public war resistor, had been sent to trial by a biased hearing officer, and temporarily dropped the general Court-martial against him, a type of trial that could have sent him to jail for up to five years. Another investigation, to be conducted on May 26, will determine by what type of Court-martial Kevin is tried.

These findings represent important accomplishments for the antiwar movement, as they seem to indicate that military authorities are handling public dissent within the ranks with a bit more caution, as more members of the military are speaking out against the occupation. It would be interesting to see if these are isolated cases, or if the military is indeed making an effort to uphold the law.

Service men and women should know that expert testimony at my trial as well as at Pablo's trial, was that the invasion and occupation of Iraq are illegal under international, domestic, and military law. At my trial, professor Francis Boyle of the University of Illinois, testified that the Iraqi invasion and its aftermath is a crime against humanity, and a violation of Army Field Manual 27-10, which incorporates the Geneva Conventions. At Pablo's trial, Professor Marjorie Cohn from San Diego's Thomas Jefferson School of Law, testified that the war in Iraq violates the United Nations Charter, which authorizes the use of force only in self defense, or with the Security Council's approval. She also noted that according to the Nuremberg Principle and the Army Field Manual, disobeying an unlawful order is a duty, and claiming to be following superior orders constitutes no legal defense in the commission of war crimes. Interestingly, neither at my trial nor at Pablo's, did the prosecution ever put on evidence to counter the defense international law expert testimony.

America is going through a historical transformation, from disguised to almost openly admitted (and defended) imperialism. In a time when peaceful protesters are being put in cages, or free speech zones, in a time when international law is being ignored or circumvented in order to conduct and justify torture, in a time when schools are being forced to make their students' files available to the war machine, in a time when the fear and pain of the nation are being used to fabricate support for a criminal war of imperial domination, it becomes imperative that members of the armed forces act upon their principles.

An empire cannot survive without an imperial military, a military whose members do not question the orders of their superiors, a military whose members who choose to refuse, do so quietly to save their skins, a military whose members rather die and kill against their moral judgments than question the authority of their command.

It is too easy to just tell service men and women to follow their conscience, whatever that means; this advice puts the burden back on their shoulders and brings no sacrifice to the adviser. But peace does not come easily, so I tell all members of the military that whenever faced with an order, and everything in their mind and soul, and each and every cell in their bodies screams at them to refuse and resist, then by God do so. Jail will mean nothing when breaking the law' became their duty to humanity.

Pablo's trial not only marked an important step towards resistance, but it also brought doubt to the minds of many sailors who were present during his Court-martial. They may not yet agree with the antiwar movement, some probably never will, but for the first time many of them witnessed an open debate about the immorality of the Iraq invasion and occupation. Perhaps for a moment doubt brought a sense of humanity back into their hardened system of military values. This would not have been possible had Pablo not put his physical freedom on the line. His sacrifice was small compared to the sacrifice of the over 100,000 Iraqi dead, but perhaps it is the unity of small sacrifices, like Pablo's, that can bring about major changes into the heart of our nation.

We probably should stop fearing so much for our personal safety and start looking more closely at the sacrifice of others, perhaps we will be inspired and empowered to put more of ourselves on the line for the benefit of those who are really suffering. The light of others should not blind the path to our own resistance. Perhaps a good place to find our own light will be the trial of war resister Sgt. Kevin Benderman. Maybe I'll see you there, maybe we can shine together.

To find out more information about Kevin Benderman's Court-martial, or to contribute to his defense, please visit: www.bendermandefense.org/

back to top

Regaining My Humanity

NOTE: "This essay is edited from statements I wrote in prison, and from my conscientious objector claim." -CEM.

I was deployed to Iraq in April 2003 and returned home for a two-week leave in October. Going home gave me the opportunity to put my thoughts in order and to listen to what my conscience had to say. People would ask me about my war experiences and answering them took me back to all the horrors—the firefights, the ambushes, the time I saw a young Iraqi dragged by his shoulders through a pool of his own blood or an innocent man was decapitated by our machine gun fire. The time I saw a soldier broken down inside because he killed a child, or an old man on his knees, crying with his arms raised to the sky, perhaps asking God why we had taken the lifeless body of his son.

I thought of the suffering of a people whose country was in ruins and who were further humiliated by the raids, patrols and curfews of an occupying army.

And I realized that none of the reasons we were told about why we were in Iraq turned out to be true. There were no weapons of mass destruction. There was no link between Saddam Hussein and al Qaeda. We weren’t helping the Iraqi people and the Iraqi people didn’t want us there. We weren’t preventing terrorism or making Americans safer. I couldn’t find a single good reason for having been there, for having shot at people and been shot at.

Coming home gave me the clarity to see the line between military duty and moral obligation. I realized that I was part of a war that I believed was immoral and criminal, a war of aggression, a war of imperial domination. I realized that acting upon my principles became incompatible with my role in the military, and I decided that I could not return to Iraq.

By putting my weapon down, I chose to reassert myself as a human being. I have not deserted the military or been disloyal to the men and women of the military. I have not been disloyal to a country. I have only been loyal to my principles.

When I turned myself in, with all my fears and doubts, it did it not only for myself. I did it for the people of Iraq, even for those who fired upon me—they were just on the other side of a battleground where war itself was the only enemy. I did it for the Iraqi children, who are victims of mines and depleted uranium. I did it for the thousands of unknown civilians killed in war. My time in prison is a small price compared to the price Iraqis and Americans have paid with their lives. Mine is a small price compared to the price Humanity has paid for war.

Many have called me a coward, others have called me a hero. I believe I can be found somewhere in the middle. To those who have called me a hero, I say that I don’t believe in heroes, but I believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary things.

To those who have called me a coward I say that they are wrong, and that without knowing it, they are also right. They are wrong when they think that I left the war for fear of being killed. I admit that fear was there, but there was also the fear of killing innocent people, the fear of putting myself in a position where to survive means to kill, there was the fear of losing my soul in the process of saving my body, the fear of losing myself to my daughter, to the people who love me, to the man I used to be, the man I wanted to be. I was afraid of waking up one morning to realize my humanity had abandoned me.

I say without any pride that I did my job as a soldier. I commanded an infantry squad in combat and we never failed to accomplish our mission. But those who called me a coward, without knowing it, are also right. I was a coward not for leaving the war, but for having been a part of it in the first place. Refusing and resisting this war was my moral duty, a moral duty that called me to take a principled action. I failed to fulfill my moral duty as a human being and instead I chose to fulfill my duty as a soldier. All because I was afraid. I was terrified, I did not want to stand up to the government and the army, I was afraid of punishment and humiliation. I went to war because at the moment I was a coward, and for that I apologize to my soldiers for not being the type of leader I should have been.

I also apologize to the Iraqi people. To them I say I am sorry for the curfews, for the raids, for the killings. May they find it in their hearts to forgive me.

One of the reasons I did not refuse the war from the beginning was that I was afraid of losing my freedom. Today, as I sit behind bars I realize that there are many types of freedom, and that in spite of my confinement I remain free in many important ways. What good is freedom if we are afraid to follow our conscience? What good is freedom if we are not able to live with our own actions? I am confined to a prison but I feel, today more than ever, connected to all humanity. Behind these bars I sit a free man because I listened to a higher power, the voice of my conscience.

While I was confined in total segregation, I came across a poem written by a man who refused and resisted the government of Nazi Germany. For doing so he was executed. His name is Albrecht Hanshofer, and he wrote this poem as he awaited execution:

GUILT
The burden of my guilt before the law
weighs light upon my shoulders; to plot
and to conspire was my duty to the people;
I would have been a criminal had I not.

I am guilty, though not the way you think,
I should have done my duty sooner, I was wrong,
I should have called evil more clearly by its name
I hesitated to condemn it for far too long.

I now accuse myself within my heart:
I have betrayed my conscience far too long
I have deceived myself and fellow man.

I knew the course of evil from the start
My warning was not loud nor clear enough!
Today I know what I was guilty of…

To those who are still quiet, to those who continue to betray their conscience, to those who are not calling evil more clearly by its name, to those of us who are still not doing enough to refuse and resist, I say “come forward.” I say “free your minds.”

Let us, collectively, free our minds, soften our hearts, comfort the wounded, put down our weapons, and reassert ourselves as human beings by putting an end to war.

back to top

Statement regarding the Courageous Resister Award

Sunday, August 8, 2004

Greetings:

Courageous Resister Award

After reading the official letter on the Courageous Resister Award along with the list of past recipients, my first reaction was that of embarrassment - I see that so many people have sacrificed so much in their very own ways of resistance- Recipients and otherwise have spent decades in prison, have devoted their whole lives to resistance, have been executed for resisting, for standing up to authority, for not conforming, for struggling for peace and justice.

There are so many extraordinary people whose tireless devotion to freedom, and whose sacrifice have helped me realize that far greater sorrows may have befallen me. I am only a regular person that got tired of being afraid to follow his own conscience. For far too long I allowed others to direct my actions even when I knew that they were wrong. I am but a humble member of a world community of “true” freedom fighters.

I cannot accept this award on behalf of those who have truly refused and resisted; there are far too many of them who deserve the honor more than I. I will, however, accept the award on behalf of those who are still quiet, those who are still afraid to speak their minds. Not too long ago I was one of them. Not too long ago I was ordered to be part of a war that I knew in my heart was immoral and criminal, a war of aggression, a war of imperial domination.
Many have called me a coward, many have called me a hero. I believe I can be found somewhere in the middle. To those who have called me a hero, I say that I don’t believe in heroes, but I believe that ordinary people can do extraordinary things. To those who have called me a coward I say that they are wrong, and that without knowing it, they are also right. They are wrong when they think that I left the war for fear of being killed. I admit that fear was there, but there was also the fear of killing innocent people, the fear of putting myself in a position where to survive means to kill, there was the fear of losing my soul in the process of saving my body, the fear of losing myself to my daughter, to the people who love me, to the man I used to be, the man I wanted to be. I was afraid of waking up one morning to realize my humanity had abandoned me. I say without any pride that I did my job as a soldier. I commanded an infantry squad in combat and we never failed to accomplish our mission.

But they who called me a coward, without knowing it, are also right. I was a coward not for leaving the war, but for having been a part of it in the first place. Refusing and resisting this war was my moral duty, a moral duty that called me to take a principled action, a moral duty that was clear and the accomplishment of which was urgent. I failed to fulfill my moral duty as a human being and instead I chose to fulfill my duty as a soldier. All because I was afraid. I was terrified, I did not want to stand up to the government and the army, I was afraid of punishment and humiliation. I went to war because at the moment I was a coward, and for that I apologize to all of you. I apologize to my soldiers for not being the type of leader I should have been, I apologize to the Iraqi people. To them I say I am sorry for the curfews, for the raids, for the killings. May they find it in their hearts to forgive me.
One of the reasons I did not refuse the war from the beginning was that I was afraid of losing my freedom. Today, as I sit behind bars I realize that there are many types of freedom, and that in spite of my confinement I remain free in many important ways.

I have said that I want to receive this award on behalf of those who are still quiet. To them I say “come forward,” to them I say “free your minds.” What good is freedom if we are afraid to follow our conscience? What good is freedom if we are not able to live with our own actions? I am confined to a prison but I feel, today more than ever, connected to all humanity.

While I was confined in total segregation, I came across a poem written by a man who refused and resisted the government of Nazi Germany. For doing so he was executed. His name is Albrecht Hanshofer. The poem is short, I won’t take a lot more of your time. I see much of my reality, much of the way I feel in this poem, and I would like to share it with you. Albrecht Hanshofer wrote this poem as he awaited execution.

GUILT
The burden of my guilt before the law
weighs light upon my shoulders; to plot
and to conspire was my duty to the people;
I would have been a criminal had I not.

I am guilty, though not the way you think,
I should have done my duty sooner, I was wrong,
I should have called evil more clearly by its name
I hesitated to condemn it for far too long

I now accuse myself within my heart:
I have betrayed my conscience far too long
I have deceived myself and fellow man.

I knew the course of evil from the start
My warning was not loud nor clear enough!
Today I know what I was guilty of…

Once again, I accept this award on behalf of those who are still quiet, those who continue to betray their conscience, those who are not calling evil more clearly by its name, those of us who are still not doing enough to refuse and resist. I accept this award knowing in my heart that I don’t deserve it. I accept this award as a promise that I will live to earn it. I will live to fulfill my duty to the people. I will live to speak for those who know evil but are afraid to call it by its name. I accept this award with the promise that I will live my life striving to deserve it. I will live my life to refuse and resist. Thank you all.

In Solidarity and Resistance,
Camilo Mejia
U.S. Army Conscientious Objector.

back to top

LETTER TO THE PEACE ABBEY - 2/28/04

(The Peace Abbey is dedicated to creating innovative models for society that empower individuals on the paths of nonviolence, peacemaking, and cruelty-free living.)

Dear Lewis (& everyone at the Abbey),

I wanted to thank you for everything you did for my family and I, and for all your support, present and future. You treated us like royalty. I think what you and your family are doing is something that to many people is hard to appreciate. Honestly I say that before the war I would have appreciated The Peace Abbey much like a tourist appreciates a beautiful historical building in some colorful town. Now that I have to live with the experience and the horror of war, The Peace Abbey is a Temple from which I draw strength and wisdom. At times I feel weak and afraid, but spending some time with you at the Abbey, having slept on that bed (where visiting peacemakers from around the world sleep), and keeping the blood of Monsenor Romero by my chest, are all things that fill me with purpose. I have been feeling overwhelmed lately, not just by the task I have ahead of me, but also by the departure of my girlfriend, someone you never got to meet. But I know that I have to move forward, and I know that my sacrifice is minimal compared to what so many other people have done. I am afraid, but I know that what I'm about to do is much larger than myself, along with all my fears and doubts. What I am about to do I will do for the soldiers in Iraq, they too are victims. I am also doing it for the families of the dead and wounded, who have paid a high price for this war. What I am about to do is something I have to do for the people of Iraq, even for those who fired upon me; they were just on the other side of a battleground where war itself was the only enemy. I cannot think of a better place to surrender than The Peace Abbey, where all the insecurities that at times seem to crush my will are humbled, and the real magnitude of my personal sacrifice is put into perspective. So small is my price compared to the children's, victims of mines and depleted uranium, their families, the thousands of unknown civilians killed in war, the soldiers themselves. So small is my price compared to the price Humanity has paid for war.

- Camilo

back to top

LETTER TO XIMENA, CAMILO'S FRIEND

Hi Ximena,

This is the first time in a really long time that I have to check my e-mail and what a big surprise to have found a message from you. I can't hardly believe it.

I imagine how painful it is not only to have reasons against this war but also "feelings", since a close person to you is directly involved in it. I assure you that we share many of these reasons and feelings. Here, my life gets complicated many times because I have never been able to shut my mouth when I'm against something. When I get out of this place, if they ask my superiors what was my main problem, probably they would say that I complained too much. If they ask me I will respond that I did not complain enough. We have done many terrible things in this place, but we also have to remember that war is something terrible and within the horror of this reality we have to find something to hold on to. Maybe we can call this an excuse, a reason, something to save us from our own judgement, something that would allow us to go on with our lives after all the outrageous things we have done, after remaining silent, after not having shouted even louder, after not having done enough sacrifices. I too have created several reasons.

I don't have much time. I hope to see you soon to talk more deeply about the war, about our lives, about you. I wish you the best in the world.

With love,
Camilo

back to top

LETTER TO CARLOS, CAMILO'S BROTHER

Haditah, Iraq-May 13, 2003

What's up brother!! Happy birthday Carlos. The first thing I want to tell you is that I love you. One of the most important things that I'm planning to do when I get back is go and see you wherever you are. I want to spend at least one week with you. You have no idea how much I miss my family, especially my daughter. I don't believe that it is a matter of the distance and even if it is difficult to believe, I don't believe that it has much to do the time we will be here either.

What really hurts is not having control over our lives, not being able to say "I don't agree with this, I'm leaving tomorrow!!!" No, the life of a soldier is to receive orders and comply with them. This experience in itself is not all that bad. I hate to be part of a war, but I believe that one way or the other we are all part of it. At least all those of us who live in the United States.

Here I have a clearer idea of what's going on in the world, the sort of things that people watch in "CNN". I repeat to you that I did not agree with this war and I continue to disagree with it. But I believe that even the most adverse situations of our lives, when we find ourselves in foreign places and we have to do things that we rather not do, we always have to look at the other side of the coin. I have learned to live each day as if it was the last day of my life. This is part of the reason why I'm writing to you.

I don't want to be dramatic and I don't want you to be alarmed without need. The truth is that we haven't been in any imminent danger. There's always people who despise the presence of the American troops in their country, but the war and major combats are over. Now the primary objective is helping the local governments to re-establish order and to improve the living conditions of the population and of course they will also start to export oil.

Right now I'm in a hydroelectric dam in the outer limits of a town known as "Haditah". This dam supplies 75% of the energy for the capital city. This makes it a possible target for terrorist attacks. But the unit we are substituting, the "101st Airborne Division" has not had any problems here. I hope things go as they went with them. I also hope that this will be our last mission. This is the third one we have had.

Carlos, I don't want you to worry about my safety. I have many things to do in this life. You can call me superstitious but I have the certainty that I am going to live many more years. The world isn't going to get rid of me that easily. Besides here, we live fairly well. I cannot tell you that we live comfortably, but we have food, water, clothing, I haven't been sick since I left Miami in January. They give us everything to keep us healthy, at least physically.

Well, I want us to talk a little about your life. Tell me about your heath. Were you able to organize a new group? Did you get back with Holly? Say hi to her. I want you to tell me everything. Have you been talking with my mother? Remember how much she worries, especially now that I'm in "war". Don't stop calling her and giving her words of encouragement.

Ok brother, I'm going to sleep (in my sleeping bag) as I have had a hard day. I hope you write to me, I promise to answer back, I also promise to find you when I return, anywhere you are. Don't forget to enjoy your freedom, to continue following your dream and your ambitions, as the poet said: "Enjoy the fugitive instant that is your life". I promise to do the same. Say hi to everyone over there. If they ask you what has your brother done in the Middle East, tell them that I have seen the sun set in the Iraqi desert. That I have wandered through the sands where Jesus walked. Tell them that I have tasted the Arab black tea by the warmth of a bonfire, that I have dedicated many hours to the classic literature, to the philosophy of Socrates and Plato, tell them that I maintained my humanistic principles and that I haven't violated my code of vegetarian diet. Tell them that I have listened to the music of Mozart and Chopin, that I have drank whiskey in the desert, that I have meditated, that despite everything, in essence, I continue to be the same.

Take good care of yourself, your brother who adores you,
Camilo

back to top

A PRAYER FROM IRAQ
by Camilo

Dear Lord, Thank you for allowing me to live one more day. Forgive me for all my sins, for all the things I should have said and done but did not. I ask of you to soften the hearts of our leaders and soften the hearts of those who attack us. Let there be no more war, and put an end to all violence. Protect my comrades, and protect all those who are affected by this war. Give comfort to the dead and wounded. Give them the wisdom to accept your decision. Put peace in their hearts. Should you decide to take me from this world I will accept your will. Give strength to my family, and protect my little girl. Let there be peace in all the world. Thank you Lord.

Sincerely and Deeply Yours,
Camilo

back to top