Two weeks ago, a fellow philosopher, comrade at arms, and good friend of mine, Major Ian Fishback, PhD, died in an adult foster care home in Michigan at age 42. He left behind an ex-wife and one young daughter. The official cause of his death is still uncertain, though the likely explanatory candidates, of either self-infliction or gross medical negligence on the part of the greater Veteran’s Administration healthcare system, are both terrible and tragic, each in their own way.
A West Point graduate, Ian first made a name for himself as an Army whistle-blower in 2005 after contacting Human Rights Watch and Senator John McCain in order to expose prisoner detainee abuses he witnessed first-hand in Iraq. For his moral courage, he was voted one of Time Magazine’s ‘Most influential people of 2006.’ He then went on to become a Special Forces officer, to complete three more combat tours between Afghanistan and Iraq, to teach moral philosophy at West Point, and to then get his PhD in philosophy at the University of Michigan in 2020.
During this time, however, Ian was wrestling with a series of personal and psychological demons stemming from a host of causes; from a deep sense of betrayal by the U.S. military and American society in general, to PTSD and moral injury, to deep frustration with the lumbering VA bureaucracy, to a felt sense of alienation from wider civilian society, to episodes of severe paranoia. For the two months immediately prior to his death, Ian had been living homeless on the streets of Michigan after a repeated series of psychological breaks and paranoid episodes.[1] And after a violent outburst against an ROTC officer at a local football game in September, he was involuntarily admitted to an inpatient hospital, followed by a group home, followed by being placed in adult foster care as he awaited a bed at the Battle Creek, VA hospital.[2][3] A GoFundMe page was started last month by his friends and family to help raise money to get him admitted to the Austen Riggs Center, one of the top psychiatric hospitals in the country.[4]
And while Ian’s sudden death, much like his life, will now likely function as a kind of Rorschach inkblot for politicians, academics, and media pundits alike to project their own interpretations onto, to advance their own narratives, and to make sweeping commentaries on American foreign policy and American society in general (myself included), I’d like to take the time here for a brief moment to focus less so on theory and explanation and to instead share some thoughts about Ian as a friend.
Ian was a true believer. He believed in the values of this country and that America and its military could be a force for good in this world, and he went above and beyond the call of duty in everything that he did in order to live up to those ideals, sometimes to the detriment of his own soul and psyche, as it seemed at times like he was attempting to shoulder the entire world all on his own.
He was a warrior, a scholar, a father, a friend, a son, a brother, and a humanitarian. He was equally concerned about human rights and veteran’s issues, as he was about foreign policy and America’s role in the world, as he was about the nature of knowledge, morality, and truth itself. He was a loyal friend who could make you smile over a pint of beer and a loving father who taught his young daughter lessons from Plato’s Republic. He was able to be shot at by an enemy trying to kill him but to still regard them as persons deserving of basic respect and dignity. As one commenter remarked on his online memorial page, ‘Ian’s greatest quality was not his courage, but his humanity.’ Indeed, he had both qualities in spades.
A few years ago, after an academic conference, and on somewhat of a whim, Ian invited me to join him on a climbing trip to the top of Mount Mulhacen, the highest peak in Spain. I had never climbed before and had no clue what I was getting myself into, but I trusted in Ian’s planning and leadership. After a winding and seemingly death-defying car ride through Sierra Nevada, a day-1 hike to a mountain-side cabin in the middle of a blinding snowstorm, and a grueling 6-hour ascent the next day to the snow-covered summit, there we stood, two American philosopher-veterans, both in complete and total silence, gazing out over the jagged and unforgiving peaks, without another soul in sight for as far as the eye could see. Away from the lights and frantic madness of cities and civilization, there, on that lone mountain-top, it felt like my soul could finally breath, if just for a brief moment. Were it not for Ian’s leadership, trustworthiness, and drive, I would never have gotten to experience that most healing and sublime of moments. I will always appreciate Ian for that memory.
Why do some men feel so compelled to climb to such peaks? What exactly is it that they are searching for? And why do they seem to carry so much with them along the way? I’m not sure exactly why, but Ian was one of those men, part mountain-climber, part mountain, with the distinction between the two sometimes blurring when viewed from afar. He was a man of profound integrity, courage, and compassion and his life’s record touched us all.
The last time I spoke with Ian was on Veteran’s Day over the phone while he was in patient care. I told him that he was loved and that he had friends and family on the outside waiting and praying for him to get better. At that time, I wish I had more to say. I wish I had more to say now; something more poetic, something more profound, something theoretically insightful to explain and to make better sense of this tragedy, but in all honesty, at this moment in time, words and explanations just seem to completely give out.
I guess I just miss my friend.
[1] https://hiphination.org/blog/
[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2021/11/24/us/politics/ian-fishback-veteran-mental-health-crisis.html
[3] https://www.nytimes.com/2021/11/23/us/ian-fishback-dead.html
[4] https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-major-fishback-recover?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link_all&utm_campaign=m_pd+share-sheet
Michael, a moving tribute. I too miss Ian.
I don’t know what to say, except that the powerful are no longer servant leaders, but egos that require obeisance, and everyone else, be damned. Thank you for being his friend.