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Death squad psychology

What goes on in the mind of an assassin before he pulls the trigger?

Is there blind hate? Is there the perverse lust of a drooling beast about to pounce on its prey? The cold calculation of a proud professional, who knows that a clean hit deserves a hefty bonus and more contract jobs ahead? Is there an element of fear and desperation? Or maybe just numbness, verging on tedium, acquired from a long string of earlier kills?

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There’s a 1993 thriller, In the Line of Fire, about a Secret Service agent (played by Clint Eastwood) tracking down a mysterious hitman (superbly portrayed by John Malkovich) who telegraphs his moves intentionally, yet succeeds in getting near the U.S. President for that final shot. The assassin turns out to be a very intelligent and highly-trained but disgruntled ex-CIA agent who becomes rabid.

It is a memorable film, not only because of its high artistic and entertainment values, but because it gives us a rare closeup peek into the twisted mind of a political assassin.

In the case of trained killer Mitch Leary (Malkovich), his own sense of logic – his experience of a government that destroys its enemies without compunction, a government that employed and trained him – leads him to realize that his deathly deeds are slowly killing him too, that his own path of destruction might as well include the president of that same government.

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Individual members of hit squads that are now deployed to kill activists, journalists, church people and other dissenters may have their own twisted, personal reasons for taking the lives of innocent, unarmed civilians. Unlike film villain Mitch Leary, their bottom line is clearly money. They kill for reward money. But what happens when the bounty fund is used up?

How much is a “contract job” worth these days? Five million pesos? A million? Half a million? It would probably depend on how hard or easy the prospective target is. I tremble to imagine how cheap the price is for a community leader who commutes daily from house to work to market, who attends publicly-known events, who is unarmed and unescorted, and is thus a very easy target.

Is the P1-billion additional fund earmarked “for the boys” as bounty money and other perks? How many more innocent deaths would this produce – a thousand, two thousand people?

When the P1 billion is depleted, or when all dissenters have been driven underground – whichever comes first – what will the hired killers do next? Will they meekly return to their former work as petty criminals and poorly paid thugs? Will they simply retire on their blood-stained earnings?

I don’t think so. Frankenstein’s monster, created out of dead bodies, will not easily die of itself. If its present master can no longer feed it, it will throw temper tantrums and find other masters.

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Some might apply for work as U.S.-paid military mercenaries bound for Iraq and other trouble spots. But most will probably seek the same kind of bloody work elsewhere within the country. There is demand, there is supply, the industry rates have been set.

I fear that political killings will continue to grow as an industry, given that 2007 is an election year when the most brutal aspects of traditional Philippine politics will reassert themselves.

Mayors, governors, judges, and other government officials involved in violent rivalries over politics and loot-sharing are now more susceptible than ever, especially now that the AFP and PNP have recalled their security details for counter-insurgency deployment.

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When this happens, the architects of the bloody campaign of political killings will themselves be no longer safe. Predator will turn against predator. Dog will eat dog.

In Apocalypse Now, butcher Special Forces officer Col. Kurtz is himself ultimately butchered (“terminate, with extreme prejudice”) by another intelligence officer. As he faced the butcher’s knife, all he could mumble was, “The horror! The horror!” Death squad psychology turning on itself.

A recent Inquirer editorial has an apt phrase for this very topic: “Reaping the whirlwind.” And for all John Malkovich fans out there, may we add: A thousand rabid Mitch Learys are on the loose. #

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(Email your feedback to jun@nordis.net)

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