Making Our Voices HeardBy Paul Rogat Loeb
For those of us who think Bush's pending war against Iraq is reckless
madness, it's tempting to retreat into bitter despair after the Senate vote
giving him a blank check to attack. Like Dickens' orphans pleading for gruel,
the Democratic leadership politely requested that Bush consult them, work
with the UN and other allies, and exhaust all diplomatic means before going
to war. Then they caved and gave Bush--and men like Richard Perle, who
believed in winnable nuclear wars, and Dick Cheney, who opposed the freeing
of Nelson Mandela--the power to lead us into a war that will fuel rage and
resentment throughout the Islamic world and beyond.
So what to do other than nurturing bile and resentment? Or writing angry
emails and letters to those who've once again shown no moral courage? Or
thanking the 23 Senators and 133 Representatives who found the strength to
resist all the lies and threats?
We might start by recognizing that we've made some progress. A few weeks
ago, the press reported that a mere 19 House Democrats would vote against
the resolution. Only two Senators opposed the Tonkin Gulf resolution that
opened the door to our full-scale war in Vietnam. Those who stood up now did
so knowing they would be attacked and baited for their stands. (And Bush
timed this vote to fracture and demoralize the Democratic base and drive all
other issues off the table for the November elections.) Yet they found the
courage to vote their conscience--and did so in part because so many
citizens like us made clear their opposition to this war.
Now, in a time when Bush audaciously claims that "America speaks with one
voice," we must make our voices heard even more. This means continuing to
speak up, preferably in ways that reach out as much to our fellow citizens
as to our elected representatives. If enough of us take public stands, we
may yet avert going to war with Iraq--or at least limit the power of this
administration, whose backers speak blatantly about the virtues of empire,
to wage further wars to come. We never know the full impact of our actions.
One case in point happened in 1969, when Henry Kissinger told the North
Vietnamese that Nixon was threatening to escalate the Vietnam war massively,
including potential nuclear strikes, unless they capitulated and forced the
National Liberation Front in the South to do the same. Nixon was serious.
He'd had military advisers prepare detailed plans, including mission folders
with photographs of potential nuclear targets. But two weeks before the
president's November 1st deadline, there was a nationwide day of protest,
the Moratorium, during which millions of people took part in local
demonstrations, vigils, church services, petition drives and other forms of
protest. The next month came a major march in Washington, D.C of over a half
million people. Publicly, Nixon responded to the protests by watching the
Washington Redskins football game during the D.C. march and declaring that
the marchers weren't affecting his policies in the slightest--sentiments
that fed the frustration and demoralization of far too many in the peace
movement. Yet privately, Nixon decided the movement had, in his words, so
"polarized" American opinion that he couldn't carry out his threat.
Participants in the Moratorium had no idea that their efforts may have
helped stop a nuclear attack.
This example of our actions having more power than we know came to mind as I
marched with ten thousand others on an October Seattle Sunday, the weekend
before the Congressional vote. Marchers paraded huge puppets of black-clad
mothers holding children and George Bush as a global sheriff with pistols
marked Exxon and Mobil. Others carried a giant inflatable earth and a
50-foot Trident missile. A community anti-smoking project brought their
20-foot cloth eagle, adorned with a large black peace sign. Signs
proclaimed: "Drop Bush Not Bombs," "Iraq Didn't Attack Us Sept 11," "Another Vet For Peace," "How Much Blood For George?" "The U.S. Needs A
Regime Change," and "Preemptive Impeachment."
Families marched with their children. Onlookers waved in support. A lawyer
for the Seattle prosecutor's office said he'd reluctantly supported the
Afghan war, but not this one. My neighbor from across the street, an
electrician and military vet, put a "No War" sign in his window and marched
with his wife-both unusual for him. I talked with students and grandmothers,
skateboard punks and doctors, carpenters and software designers. Some had
been active for years. Others were just beginning. This was the first
demonstration for one woman in her 43 years, "because I've had it up to here
with Bush's bogus leadership. If we get in this war, we'll never see the
end."
A cluster of African drummers propelled marchers forward with their beat.
Their friend had posted a notice on their drumming website. Further back in
the parade that stretched for blocks, two saxophonists and a trumpeter
played a mournful St Louis blues, which merged into a high-stepping
cakewalk, and then a long plaintive version of "America the Beautiful." The
drummer's tie displayed an American flag and a picture of the World Trade
Center towers. A friend passed on a joke from Los Angeles singer-songwriter
Dan Bern: "Satan wears a button asking 'What Would Cheney Do?'"
People marched for different reasons, but all feared that attacking Iraq
would inflame the Muslim world, help Bin Laden recruit a new generation of
terrorists, and kill thousands of innocent Iraqis, not to mention our own
young soldiers. They mistrusted Bush's lies on a host of other issues and
wondered why he was ignoring the many generals who were urging restraint.
They asked whether the rush to war had less to do with Saddam Hussein than
with wanting to control key oil supplies, or distracting November voters
from a melting economy, strip-mined environment, and runaway corporate
greed. They asked why so few other countries supported our stand, and what
would happen after Saddam Hussein fell. They wanted to do more than watch
the news in pained silence.
Since Bush took office, I've seen plenty of personal dissent: conversations
with friends, endless emails, bitter comments. But visible public outcries
have been strangely absent. They were barely present as Bush cut every
conceivable social program, worked to gut core environmental protections,
and enacted a tax cut transferring $1.2 trillion to the wealthiest one in a
hundred Americans. Dissent dropped off even more in the wake of Sept 11,
though many of us felt uneasy with Bush's simplistic framing of a war of
good versus evil. Yes, many of us have endlessly called, emailed, and faxed
our elected representatives, pleading for them to show more courage and
spine. We've signed petitions and statements, written letters to local
papers, and emailed article after article to friends. What we might call
virtual politics can matter immensely. We pass on critical contexts and
perspectives through the electronic equivalent of the Soviet underground
Samizdats.
This virtual politics can matter. Coordinated phone calls, emails, and faxes
have blocked destructive policies, like Bush's proposal to drill in the
Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and some of his regressive court nominees.
Our recent efforts gave strength to Senators and Representatives who've
opposed Bush's war. But when we forward political emails or contact our
representatives, these actions remain invisible to our fellow citizens. It's
hard to build engaged community in the process of taking them (though groups
like MoveOn.org and the Working Assets network have done their best to bring
people together through virtual networks). Our actions don't publicly
express our outrage in ways that other citizens can see.
To march with others, in contrast, feels richer, more human, more
empowering-and more of a visible challenge. Publicized largely through the
ubiquitous emails and through fliers at related events, this particular
march was the fruit of a small group of mostly younger activists who'd begun
meeting six months earlier. They linked themselves with a national campaign,
Not in Our Name www.notinourname.net, that's been circulating a pledge of
resistance and running newspaper ads challenging Bush's right to wage war
without limit. Our group of 10,000 complemented rallies, marches, and
vigils in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and
Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Houston, Austin, Buffalo, San Diego, Salt Lake City,
Tulsa, Brattleboro, Boston, Anchorage, Kansas City, and several hundred
other cities and towns, including 2,000 in conservative Cincinnati, the
night Bush made his war pitch. Had we equaled the huge recent European
anti-war rallies-400,000 people in London, 1.5 million throughout Italy--who
knows how many other votes we would have swung. But it was a start.
Public courage can be contagious, much like public cowardice. Seattle
congressman Jim McDermott made national news by journeying to Iraq and
challenging Bush's actions. He went in part because so many citizens asked,
again and again, that he take a stand. In turn, McDermott helped inspire
opposition from other Washington Congressmen, and one of our Senators, Patty
Murray. When citizens convince previously silent political leaders to speak,
their words of questioning ripple out.
We need to do more than march, of course. We need discussion and debate,
teach-ins and vigils. We need to reach out in our local churches and
temples, PTAs, city council meetings, Rotary Clubs, colleges, high schools
and with coworkers, neighbors, and friends. We've already seen strong peace
statements from major Catholic leaders and the heads of major Protestant
denominations like the Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Lutherans,
American Baptists, the United Church of Christ, and the Mormons. The
challenge now is to extend the discussion into the pews, and into our
communities. Lobbied by members, the Washington State and San Francisco
Labor councils recently came out against going to war, as did the Seattle
City Council and Washington state Democratic Party. So far, most of the
national labor and environmental groups have been silent. We'll need to keep
broadening the discussion and remember that even Richard Nixon was
constrained by public opinion. We'll need to continue even if Bush goes
ahead to war, and refuse to let ourselves be marginalized. That means
listening carefully to those who disagree with us, and try to find common
ground. It means continuing to speak out, whatever names we're called by the
power-hungry and cynical zealots now leading our country, even if our fellow
citizens initially seem to support them. As a Catholic nun said at a
3,000-person religious vigil three days after the Seattle Sunday march,
those working for peace cannot fold up our prayer tents and go home, just
because history does not instantly and visibly go our way.
For we march not only to stop Bush's war on Iraq, but the wars that will
follow from his defining America as sole global policeman, sole arbiter of
freedom, sole nation with the right to unleash preemptive attacks on whoever
we decide to take down. Whatever policies Bush undertakes, we need to keep
raising the real questions. We don't want to recruit another generation for
future Bin Ladens. We don't want more innocents to die. However our actions
play out, we're far better voicing our beliefs than staying silent.
Paul Loeb is the author of Soul of a Citizen: Living With Conviction in a
Cynical Time available at: www.soulofacitizen.org . He is also the author of three other books on citizen activism.