Wheelchair Basketball and the Costs of War

I recently had the opportunity to travel to the Walter Reed Army Medical Center to photograph some veterans playing wheelchair basketball. I met some men who sacrificed body and limb to be in Iraq, only to step on a homemade explosive device and just like that, both legs and part of their left hand is gone. They were going through a kind of therapy, playing sports, trying to regain some semblance of “normal” into their lives. Prosthetics have come a long way, and in no way are these men incapable of getting around and leading relatively normal lives. Nor are they, as evidenced by what I had seen, unable to enjoy themselves, albeit differently than before, by playing sports like wheelchair basketball.

But there is no way to spend three hours in a gym with a dozen amputees without calling into question the whole of it. I understand the broader goals of making a better world for those less fortunate than ourselves. But I wonder if future generations will ever figure out how to resolve dispute without war. When you commit yourself (others, actually) to invading a country and fighting a war, the ugly truth is that there is no way to escape death, destruction and torture.

These men were able to receive the utmost care and the best resources available. Then consider that the many civilians who suffer are not privy to such treatment. We can say that torture is unequivocally wrong when we talk about waterboarding. But when we go to war, we must assume a certain amount of collateral damage. Therefore we can acknowledge without a doubt, that there will be those that suffer because of our actions. Lives will suffer from the physical and mental anguish of war. If we know this is a truth, no matter the precautions, does it count as sanctioned torture? I’m not declaring my newfound pacifism, as it certainly appears that war is, in fact, a necessary evil in many circumstances. I only point out that when I see 23 year-old man with his legs gone, I can’t help thinking that maybe he’s the lucky one. But he’s not. He isn’t lucky to be a paraplegic, but there are worse fates than his. The men I met that day seemed to be able to embrace that fact, most likely because they’ve seen war up close.

Let me also add that I put together an audio slideshow. This has somehow disappeared into the ether while being passed along the chain of command at a Newspaper that will remain unnamed…