Abstract
Having spent the last year researching and teaching gender and international relations – specifically foreign policy under the Bush Administration and gender-based wartime violence – I was particularly looking forward to reviewing this book. As a feminist, the involvement of women in the abuse and torture at Abu Ghraib had long since fascinated me. The book comes at a time when reports and evidence of the failings of the war in Iraq are readily available. For some, then, this book and its analysis of the Abu Ghraib scandal will serve as a reminder of the time when ‘America lost its claim to “doing good” in Iraq’ (p. 1). For others, however, this will remain a story about ‘a handful of rogue soldiers… with moral failures, who just went out on their own and engaged in misconduct’ (p. 1). Indeed, as Caldwell suggests, this second analysis echoes that of the government’s own theory about what happened. This book takes a more critical approach and adopts an alternative reading of the case in order to inform us of what really happened at Abu Ghraib.
Gender is the central theme of the book. Focusing specifically on the cases of Sabrina Harman and Lynndie England, Caldwell provides a critical analysis of the ways in which gender is constructed, ‘policed’, and ‘produced by and for us’ and how ‘power makes complex the relations of gender’ (p. xx). The analysis demonstrates how torture, abuse and other deviances in the name of gender were carried out upon the body at Abu Ghraib. Through an analysis of the feminization of male Iraqi bodies – in order ‘to humiliate and mock cultural constructions of masculinity’ – Caldwell demonstrates how ‘power is used to torture both the body and mind’ (p. 16).
In this book Caldwell highlights the importance of context and of asking the following questions: ‘Who orchestrated the abuse? Who gave orders and within what context? How does power operate within these environments? How does obedience work within large institutions such as the military?’ (p. 166). With regard to Sabrina Harman, ‘context’ is provided by a deeper analysis of her personality. This is done through the inclusion of numerous photographs of her posing with Iraqi women and children, and Iraqi families, along with testimonies repeatedly describing her as ‘a caregiver’ and ‘a motherly individual’ (p. 150), as well as accounts of her friendly relationships with Iraqi prisoners and civilians. Through these alternative readings it becomes more difficult to view her as one of the ‘rotten apples’ (p. 1).
As the title Fallgirls suggests, the overriding message of this book is that the women involved in the abuse and torture at Abu Ghraib were scapegoats. According to Caldwell ‘the female soldiers were used for the humiliation of Iraqi male prisoners…and were framed as objects complying with male organized torture scenarios’ (p. 103, emphasis in the original). In fact, a common theme throughout the book is that none of the soldiers involved had received adequate training or been given detailed instructions regarding detainee care and interrogation methods. So not only does the book attempt to set the record straight vis-a-vis the female soldiers, there is also a more subtle attempt to redirect blame away from individual soldiers and onto the US government.
There are five main chapters, between which are presented the opening and closing statements of the defence council; transcripts of both Lynndie England’s and Sabrina Harman’s courts-martial, and a one-to-one interview with Sabrina Harman. This can be confusing. No doubt by providing these narratives the author is seeking to provide us with the ‘facts’ of these cases, but these are placed between chapters that deal with, at times, complex theoretical material. Neither of these are problematic in and of themselves, as separate approaches, but combined they are rather overwhelming and may leave the reader struggling to deal with the depth of information provided as well as the density of the theoretical exploration.
Each chapter follows a similar format: each critiques and reconstructs existing social theories from a ‘gender-sensitive’ perspective. Caldwell draws upon the work of social theorists such as Talcott Parsons, Michel Foucault, Judith Butler and Jean Baudrillard. Among the issues explored and not discussed in detail in this review are: Zimbardo’s (1971) and Milgram’s (1962) experimental studies; Parsons’ theory of instrumental and expressive gender roles; Foucauldian ideas about modernity, power and the body (specifically the shift from punishing the body to disciplining the mind), as well as a discussion of sociological theories such as social disorganization theory, structural functionalism and normalization of deviance.
One of the most interesting discussions is provided in Chapter 4: ‘The Significance of Identity Simulacra and Gender Hyperreality: The American Military and the Case of Abu Ghraib’. Caldwell draws upon the work of Baudrillard and Butler to develop ideas about ‘simulacra gender code’, ‘power simulacra’ and ‘rule by simulacra’ which she uses to describe the gender processes and consequences of ‘the metrosexual soldier, the phenomena of drag at Abu Ghraib, and the “drag-techniques” that were used to torture’(p. 20). Caldwell considers how ‘militarized gender relations’ (p. 19) instruct individual soldiers on how to perform and understand their gender. In thinking about England and Harman, Caldwell asks: ‘what then was theoretically real and what were postmodern simulacra about their gender performances as well as their roles?’ (p. 19). The answer we are given is that, by not ‘evidencing stereotypical femininity’ through wearing of the ‘drag’ of a military uniform that is gendered and forced upon their bodies ‘without choice or regard for their own gendered performance or instantiation’, these women are simply performing the masculinist gender ‘code’ of the military (p. 123). In terms of their roles, Caldwell argues that they did not ‘participate in the homoerotic physical and gender/sexualized torture of prisoners’ and ‘there was no testimony at England’s or Harman’s trials that linked them to the abuse that many suppose they participated in’ (p. 163).
One of the reoccurring themes of the book is the characterization of the heterosexist nature of the American military. For Caldwell ‘heterosexuality is the organizing sexuality or “logic” in the American military, where gays and lesbians are not legally allowed to “openly”…serve their country’ (p. 45). With regard to the torture and abuse, homosexual torture techniques were used to ‘exploit culturally constructed attitudes about masculinity and fears of homosexuality’ (ibid.). The theme of heterosexuality is picked up again in Chapter 4 when Caldwell discusses Harman’s sexuality. Caldwell points out that in terms of her gender and sexuality, Harman ‘existed as both a female and a lesbian within the military’, thereby rendering ‘the military’s masculinist and heterosexist “code” unintelligible’ and revealing ‘its ultimate constructed and simulacra nature’ (p. 123).
In terms of offering a more nuanced account of gender and the torture and abuse at Abu Ghraib, I am not entirely convinced that the book delivers. Much like analyses which simply demonize the women involved, the case presented here – that these women were exploited and coerced participants – is every bit as reductionist. For me a truly ‘gender-sensitive’ approach is one that is able to acknowledge both the constraints placed upon, and the agency employed by, women. I prefer then to adopt Sjoberg’s relational autonomy approach, which recognizes that:
people’s choices are neither completely independent of context (reactively autonomous) nor entirely involuntary (dependence), but somewhere in between…This means that women’s violence can sometimes herald gender emancipation, at other times echo gender subordination, and at yet other times serve both functions at the same time, because no choice is completely independent either of its chooser or its context. (Sjoberg 2008: 18)
What the book does offer, however, are some original ideas about the relationship between gender, torture and abuse. In particular, I enjoyed Caldwell’s discussion of chaos, modernity and rationality. Chaos, in this context, refers to corruption and bribery; confusion about role expectations, procedures and the leadership of the prison itself; shortages of food, water, clothing and soldiers to guard prisoners; overcrowding, and a lack of training. Caldwell demonstrates how chaos comes to be gendered and associated with female symbolic narratives of ‘vulnerability, disorganization, and emotionality – all theoretical binary opposite characterizations of reason and rationality’ (p. 70) commonly associated with masculinity.
Two things are certain from reading this book. The first is that gender is at the forefront of the analysis. Second, amid accounts depicting the women as sexual sadists, this book offers clarification of the precise role played by Lynndie England and Sabrina Harman in the abuse and torture of Iraqi prisoners. Throughout the book we are constantly reminded that England and Harman ‘were never linked to organizing a conspiracy to torture’ (p. 163, emphasis in the original).
What is less compelling, however, is the denial of their agency. I have to agree with Sjoberg (2007: 90 emphasis added) that even if these women did not lead these episodes of abuse ‘it is undeniable that they had some agency in their actions and [a]t the very least, they chose to allow their pictures to be taken’ and ‘to smile for the camera’. It is hard not to view Fallgirls as an attempt to‘excuse these women because current gender stereotypes are incompatible with their existence’ (Sjoberg 2007: 96).