Essay by Frank Sumera: Why the Word Infant is in Infantry

Language hides truth in plain sight, if only we have the courage to look. Take the word infantry. The root is infant, Latin for “unable to speak.” In ancient Rome, infans meant the child too young to speak up. So what does it say that our foot soldiers, the ones who die first and most often in war, are still called the infantry?

It says they’re the ones with the least power, the least say, and often, the least choice. Too young to vote, too poor to escape. Too indoctrinated to question orders. They’re not the sons of Trump or Netanyahu or any other billionaire or politician who beats the war drum while sipping champagne in their Manhattan penthouses or Tel Aviv strongholds. No. Their children will not be fighting in World War III. Yours will.

The military-industrial complex counts on this. It feeds on it. War needs the young. Not because they’re brave—though they are. Not because they’re strong—though they can be. But because they’re malleable. Because they can still be shaped. Because no one with billions of dollars and options ever chooses to send their own into the meat grinder. It’s always the working-class kid. The farm boy. The dropout. The immigrant. The infant in the system. Too “green” to know he’s being used. Too “patriotic” to question why.

In Gaza, in Ukraine, in Yemen, in Afghanistan, and soon perhaps in Taiwan or Iran—the same equation plays out. The rich provoke, the poor perish.

Let’s not be fooled by medals and flags. The generals talk about valor and glory, but they recruit with video game trailers and sign-on bonuses for college tuition they know most won’t live to use. They don’t tell you you’re an infant in this machine—silent, expendable, replaceable.

Trump’s kids will be playing golf. Netanyahu’s will be behind desks. But your kids will be on the front lines, with sand in their mouths and blood on their boots, wondering how they got there.

So yes, infantry comes from infant. Because that’s how the system sees them: not as men or women, but as tools. As bodies. As babies too naive to know they were born into a war they didn’t start—and one they’re not meant to survive.

– Frank Sumera