Hello, I’m Yves. As the world grapples with the ongoing violence in Israel, the visual impact of devastation serves as a jarring reminder of humanity’s darkest impulses. This stark reality makes it challenging for written words to fully convey the toll violence takes on both victims and those carrying out orders. The high suicide rate among Israel Defense Forces (IDF) personnel suggests that even within a system steeped in brutality, there are individuals who struggle with the moral implications of their actions. The excerpt below illustrates the emotional and psychological turmoil faced by U.S. veterans, who, having inflicted harm in various conflicts, now navigate the repercussions of their experiences. Many families recall World War II veterans who, despite believing in the righteousness of their cause, chose silence over sharing the horrors they faced; the inference is that revisiting those memories proved too painful.
As societal apathy grows in America, we witness a troubling trend of moral injury even within the medical field. Healthcare professionals, driven by corporate mandates, now find themselves unable to dedicate sufficient time to patient care. This is compounded by the troubling trend of relegating patient interactions to inadequately trained assistants or, increasingly, to artificial intelligence.
Yet Donald Trump seems to delight in his display of violence. Is this a sign of intoxication with power, or a symptom of something deeper? Most individuals are ill-equipped to respond to such overt bloodlust, which may embolden those who revel in savagery to escalate their behavior.
By Kelly Denton-Borhaug. Originally published at TomDispatch
It’s been some time since my last contribution to TomDispatch, and there is a poignant reason for this absence. Sixteen months ago, I was involved in a severe car accident. An SUV crossed into oncoming traffic and collided head-on with my small Chevrolet Spark. Many have remarked that I’m fortunate to have survived, but the incident has left me with several injuries and a lengthy recovery process ahead.
I have always regarded myself as someone who confronts challenges head-on. However, in the aftermath of the crash, I have come to understand that recovery is not a linear journey; it is fraught with unforeseen obstacles. My expectations have often been upended, leading me to take deep breaths and approach each day with heightened awareness.
A few months into my recovery, I was invited to participate in a retreat organized by a local veterans’ moral leadership group. The veterans there grapple with what is termed military moral injury, some of which can trace back decades. For years, I have delved into the profound consequences of America’s militarization and the violent repercussions we have visited upon the globe throughout the 21st century. I’ve listened intently to veterans’ stories stemming from the misguided conflicts of my lifetime.
With my own condition in mind, I now perceive the recovery process—and what it means to seek moral recovery—with greater clarity. I found myself in a circle with a dozen veterans, the only woman present. As I shared my experience, their unexpected and heartfelt responses revealed their own vulnerabilities, understanding, and empathy towards my plight. Surprisingly, they grasped my challenges in ways that even my closest friends and family have struggled to comprehend.
Intolerable Suffering
Most civilians remain largely unaware of the phenomenon known as “military moral injury.” It is often described as “intolerable suffering,” stemming from profound violations of one’s moral compass. Imagine bearing witness to harrowing acts of violence—acting not only as a witness but sometimes being compelled to participate. Over time, such an existence erodes whatever foundational values you once held dear, leading to a fracturing of the self. This culminates in military moral injury, a condition increasingly correlated with the rising rates of self-harm and suicide among veterans.
Through my research, I have come to realize that military moral injury arises from exposure to unrelenting violence—either through witnessing it, administering it, or enduring betrayal resulting from it. War inflicts a deep injury on life itself, both figuratively and literally, and violence is not a mere tool to be picked up or laid down without ramifications.
In this century, we have become exceptionally skilled at ignoring the repercussions of our violence, both on ourselves and the global stage. Psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton referred to this phenomenon as “psychic numbing.” We tend to downplay the violence we perpetuate abroad, neglecting to acknowledge its bearing on our own soldiers while burying this awareness deep within our psyches. It’s simply too painful and shameful to face, especially when we’ve been so intimately entangled in it.
Nonetheless, the pervasive cultural and structural violence stemming from American militarism influences us all—even if only a minority is engaging directly in the “dirty work” and bearing the brunt of its consequences. My work has illuminated how the militarized violence following 9/11 is increasingly turning inward, manifesting in violent military actions within our own cities.
In my studies, I’ve revealed the staggering financial resources our nation has allocated to militarization this century, creating an extensive “empire” of military bases, both at home and abroad. The repercussions of militarism seep into our everyday lives, affecting our institutions and culture. It’s crucial to recognize that the latent violence within our society often erupts into outright aggression. We mistakenly believe that violence can be donned like a garment, but in reality, it becomes intertwined with our very being, eroding our humanity and diminishing our capacity for love and genuine connections. Furthermore, in a culture that venerates violence and conflates it with honor, acknowledging this deterioration is painfully challenging.
However, the veterans I encountered that day understand this struggle precisely because they are on their path to recovery from violence’s grip. Their recognition of my experience stems from their lifelong endeavor to comprehend their own moral injuries; they are actively seeking healing and restoration.
Moral Injury and the Guinea Worm
In recent years, I’ve been searching for language that accurately depicts military moral injury. Allow me to share a story. A few weeks back, as I was driving and listening to NPR, I caught a report on the near-eradication of Guinea worm disease, one of the most devastating plagued throughout history. At its peak, this parasitic affliction impacted around 3.5 million people across 20 nations in Africa and Asia.
Guinea worm disease brings excruciating pain to those who consume tainted water. The worms can grow up to three feet long inside the human body, breaking through the skin in blistering, agonizing exits. One victim described the agony as rivaling that of childbirth; the extraction process can stretch across weeks, making the experience all the more horrific.
In desperate attempts to alleviate the pain, some individuals seek relief in natural water sources, only to inadvertently spread the larvae and perpetuate the cycle of infection.
As I listened, I couldn’t help but grimace at the gruesome nature of the disease.
The Dream That Haunted Me
Upon returning home, I resumed my work on a book focusing on comprehensive interviews with veterans coping with moral injury. My aim is to elevate their voices as they navigate their paths toward healing and renewed hope. However, that night, a dream concerning the Guinea worm jolted me awake.
My subconscious seemed to forge a connection too chilling for my conscious mind to accept. I discerned that violence resembles the Guinea worm. In America, we consume violence thoughtlessly, often with a celebratory air, neglecting the repercussions on our bodies and psyches.
A recurring theme from the veterans’ interviews is how many of them were encouraged by their parents to enlist as teenagers. These parents, wishing to shield their children from harm, believed that military service would cultivate maturity and provide practical skills. Yet they failed to fathom the potential exposure to violence that such decisions could bring; unwittingly, it was like urging their children to drink water contaminated with the Guinea worm.
The violence these children—now veterans—would witness or inflict has shattered their humanity. One veteran conveyed, “I became cold, unfeeling.” It wasn’t until years later, during a therapy session with his daughter, who was in tears, that he grasped how his emotional detachment had adversely affected her life.
When I queried another veteran, “What was injured in you?” he replied, “I became cruel, unnecessarily.” He had been socialized into a military culture where physical abuse was commonplace, perpetuated by peers and superiors alike. Enjoying the brutality, he later viewed his brutal actions and the loss of his humanity through a sobering lens.
Another veteran described his experience with violence as thus: “My heart was shattered, injected with poison.” Enlisting at 17 under a delayed entry program, he endured multiple deployments to Iraq. Initially aspiring to become a pediatrician, he later found himself feeling immense shame when around children, as if they were reminders of his fractured soul, with no one to share his struggles with.
Military moral injury festers within like the Guinea worm, eventually emerging with painful and devastating consequences. Today, countless veterans silently suffer from this wound, articulating their experience as akin to “losing your soul.” Through my interviews, I recognize that perhaps the most harrowing aspect of their pain is the isolation they endure—fellow citizens often remain oblivious to their suffering and avoid engaging with the narratives that lie within.
Eradicating the Violence That Invades Our Souls
A recent documentary chronicles the journey of Guinea worm disease, “born out of poverty and perpetuating poverty,” and its remarkable reduction. Surprisingly, this achievement was not the result of cutting-edge medicines but stemmed from low-tech interventions. Ground-level activists harnessed the power of education and community engagement to inform affected individuals on water filtration methods and how to prevent further contamination. Jimmy Carter and the Carter Center provided funding and unwavering support, championing this cause until his passing.
One such activist is Garang Buk Buk Piol, a former child soldier in Sudan. He learned the brutal art of killing at a tender age, wielding an AK-47 at just 12 years old. Yet, according to the documentary’s director, he transformed into a “Guinea worm warrior,” dedicating his life to educating others, fostering peace, and instilling hope in his community.
In a nation entangled in numerous conflicts this century—with another potential crisis looming in Venezuela—veterans I’ve interviewed often find themselves alone in grappling with the violence they’ve both witnessed and engaged in. Meanwhile, many in the moral engagement community, much like Buk Buk, are striving to facilitate healing and community building, even as they contend with the consequences of violence in their own lives.
And what about the broader public? My experience with a traumatic car crash irrevocably altered my life. However, the overwhelming struggles many veterans face, borne from violence, are unfathomably more horrific than anything most of us can envision. The growing violence in our country—and, indeed, within our own neighborhoods—since 9/11 continues to infiltrate our psyches and bodies, even if we remain blissfully unaware.
We’ve grown accustomed to the belief that violence is the only path forward, an assumption that is patently false. This Veterans Day, I am reflecting on how I can act in response to the pervasive violence infiltrating our lives—whether in our streets, workplaces, or healthcare systems. Instead of succumbing to fear, complicity, or indifference, I plan to resist violence through avenues of healing, humor, compassion, and hope-building. I hope you will, too.
Copyright 2025 Kelly Denton-Borhaug
