Activist Tells Congress About Suicide Epidemic Among Vets

On Dec. 12, at 10 in the morning, I was sitting in room 345 of the Cannon House Office Building, as Rep. Bob Filner called to order the Veterans Affairs Committee hearing on "Stopping Suicides: Mental Health Challenges Within the Department of Veterans Affairs."

The hearings were in response to increasingly ominous rumors of soldier and veteran suicides (which the DoD and the VA have continued to deny), culminating in the dramatic CBS News report about veteran suicides released in late November. Finally, an entity with some insider clout had produced some hard numbers that attest to an epidemic of monstrous proportions. Even so, the bad guys, like Dr. Ira Katz, who is head of mental health at the VA, quibble about whether or not this is "an epidemic" or a "major problem." "Why hasn't the VA done a national study seeking national data on how many veterans have committed suicide in this country?" Katz was asked by the CBS reporter. "That research is ongoing," Katz replied, looking a lot like Lucy promising not to snatch the football away again.

So, on Dec. 12, I and three other citizens found ourselves scheduled for the morning panel: Mike and Kim Bowman, whose son Tim, a veteran of the Iraq war, took his own life a year ago; Ilona Meagher, author of Moving a Nation to Care; and me -- all of us, by the way, suicide survivors. We were to be followed by a second panel consisting of Katz and fellow apologists, who were supposed to eviscerate the CBS report and skewer us with their conflicting numbers. Without, of course, appearing callous, slimy or cruel.

Mike Bowmen spoke first, his wife Kim sitting beside him. Kim didn't speak, but kept her hand on Mike's back. It was such a simple gesture, but one that spoke volumes: Mike is capable of doing the talking, because Kim makes it possible. They are absolutely there for each other. And for their son's memory. And for all the other parents who have already -- or will someday -- have to find ways to survive a death like Tim's.

The Bowmans are devastated. Their grief is huge and terrible, and together they have found ways to give public meaning to their personal tragedy. Aside from giving such an inspiring human face to statistics so awful anyone would want to become numb and turn away from them, Mike mined his own experience and his son's for those moments that had seemed most senselessly counterproductive if not just plain stupid. You can read the whole of his testimony on the Veterans Affairs Committee website, but two points, at least, I think are worth sharing. This first reminds me of those rebate offers that make things sound like such a deal, but are really so complicated and time-consuming to fill out that they know you'll never do it: The VA currently protests that it can't possibly be asked to take responsibility for veterans who have not registered with the system. They don't know where to find them. Well then, Mike asked, "Why isn't the VA sitting there when they get off the bus?" Why don't they have somebody … with a computer and a desk, registering them before they can go home? They're coming out of combat. You know that they're going to need help. Sign them up right there. That way, you know where they are, you know who they are, and they're in the VA system right away. Don't make it so that the soldier has to go to the VA. Make the VA go to the soldier." So simple. So obvious.

Mike's other point was a simple intervention into military culture, and one that would go a long way towards undermining the age-old stigma that is the main reason soldiers don't ask for the help they need: Instead of shunning or punishing a soldier who admits to a combat stress injury and asks for help, hold him or her up as a model. "Grab that soldier and thank him for saying, 'I'm not OK' and promote him," he said. "A soldier that admits a mental injury should be the first guy you want to have in your unit because he may be the only one that really has a grasp on reality."