National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance » Action Reports

Broken Promises, Broken Laws, and Broken Lives Continue Indefinitely for the Men in Guantanamo

NCNR — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 20:09:01 +0000

by Joy First Madison, WI June 30, 2011

In spite of Obama’s campaign promises to close Guantanamo, and in spite of the fact that he signed an executive order to close the prison on his second day in office, Guantanamo remains open. There are still 170 men illegally detained there. Most of them are innocent of any wrong-doing and have been cleared for release by our government. Yet they have no hope of ever being charged with any crime, having a trial, and worst of all, no hope of ever being released and reunited with their loved ones. They were tortured under the Bush Administration. Though torture may not continue in the same way under the Obama Administration, being held indefinitely with no hope of ever again holding your loved ones in your arms, looking into their eyes, building a life together – that would be torture.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I was compelled to leave my own family, and again return to Washington, DC to participate in an action of nonviolent civil resistance with Witness Against Torture (WAT) (www.witnesstorture.org) on June 23, 2011.

I arrived in DC on Wednesday June 22 and went directly to the Department of Justice where WAT has been focusing a lot of their energy as we work to close Guantanamo and end all torture by our government. As I emerged from the subway and walked towards the DoJ, I saw a familiar and stirring sight. Activists with orange jumpsuits and black hoods, and with their hands behind their backs were standing solemnly in the shadows of the massive justice [sic] building. What a symbol of the power differential between the activists from WAT and the government. As Max says, we are up against the most powerful empire in the history of the world. We come in the dead of winter and in the heat of summer, and we cannot and will not give up.

Wednesday evening we met to plan for the action on Thursday. It is always a wonderful reunion as I come together with these people who I have come to know and love as family. I feel like this story is becoming too familiar as we come together over and over to speak out against the crimes of our government. Yet I know ever more deeply every time I take action that this is what I am called to do, and I must answer that call.

I woke up early on Thursday morning with that queasy feeling in my stomach, knowing I was going way outside of my comfort level in risking arrest. Malachy and I had an egg and cheese bagel and a bottle of juice with the understanding that it could be 30 hours before we would eat again as we were expecting we would be held overnight and not see a judge until late the next day.

In preparing for the possibility of arrest, I was traveling light that day. I removed my wedding ring. I carried my cell phone, toothbrush and paste, and lip moisturizer that I would hand over to a support person before I risked arrest. Malachy and I decided we would only bring a photo copy of our driver’s license as identification rather than the actual license. We wanted to see what the response of the police would be if we had only had a copy of our identification. We also wanted to avoid having to return to the Capitol Police Station to retrieve any property after we were released, as were expecting to be released from the Court House after arraignment the next day.

We then walked to the White House and met up with others from WAT. Amnesty International and TASSC joined us and we listened to a few speakers at the White House before we processed to the Department of Justice in a “Walk of Shame”. It is an eerie sight to witness the procession of activists with the jumpsuits and hoods, hand behind their backs, processing through the streets of DC. Because of my vertigo I am unable to walk safely with a hood and so I hand out flyers and talk to people along the route.

After some time standing in front of the DoJ, we continued the procession to the Supreme Court where we listened to more speakers talk about what is happening in Guantanamo. Then we continued the procession briefly onto the Capitol grounds and then the group disbanded for a short break and to regroup for the action.

We have been to the White House. We have talked to members of Congress. We have been to the Supreme Court. There is no justice, no rule of law to be found for these men in any of the three branches of government. So, it is up to us as citizens to take action, and demand justice. It is our obligation under Nuremberg to speak out against the crimes of our government. It is our First Amendment right to petition our government for a redress of grievances. WAT is calling for the closure of Guantanamo, freeing all prisoners who have been cleared for release and ensuring they are safely resettled, producing charges and prosecuting all other prisoners in US courts, opening all US government detention centers to outside inspections by the Red Cross or other such groups, and conducting a criminal investigation against all those who designed and carried out torture policies.

Fourteen of us were committed to risking arrest that day in an action of nonviolent civil resistance. Our purpose in participating in the action is not to break the law, but to uphold the laws as our government continues its lawless policies. We went to the gallery that overlooks the floor of the House of Representatives. We were fortunate that they were getting ready to vote and almost all the members of the House were present on the floor. I saw my Representative Tammy Baldwin, Dennis Kucinich, and many other familiar faces.

My heart was pounding as I waited for Carmen to start the action. At the chosen moment Carmen rose and in a loud voice started reading a statement about the grave need to end the abuses that continue at Guantanamo. This is the statement that was read by several members of our group as the action began:

Today the House of Representative is in the process of contemplating not the passage of a bill but
the commission of a crime. Provisions in the proposed Defense Appropriations Bill grant the United
States powers over the lives of detained men fitting of a totalitarian state that uses the law itself as
an instrument of tyranny. The law would make the prison at Guantanamo permanent by denying
funds for the transfer of men to the United States, even for prosecution in civilian courts.

Abandoning the civilian courts, the bill would be the ultimate concession that the rule of law and
cherished American values cannot survive the fear and hatred that have consumed this country.
The proposed bill makes restrictions on the transfer of detainees even to foreign countries so severe
that no one — whether cleared for release by our own government or acquitted in trials — could be
expected to leave Guantanamo. It therefore mandates the indefinite detention even of innocent
human beings, which is the very essence of tyranny. Congress has an obligation to uphold the US
Constitution. All Americans have the obligation to defend human rights. The proposed bill makes
America a callous and reckless jailer, unworthy of the name of democracy. It must be defeated.
Guantanamo must close. Those unjustly bound must be freed. Justice must rule.

As Carmen began reading this statement a roar of noise rose from the House floor as many members stood and began to boo Carmen. I believe it was primarily the Republicans who were doing this. I was stunned. This seemed so unprofessional and sophomoric.

Because Carmen was sitting away from a door in a crowded gallery, it took a few minutes for the police to reach him and remove him. As Carmen was being removed Tom stood and continued reading the statement as members of Congress continued to boo. The police removed Tom and the next person began speaking. After the statement was completed, the rest of us began to stand and speak out for the closure of Guantanamo. From where I was sitting I could see from an open doorway into the hallway and there were several officers running through the halls as they came together to stop our action. It was a rolling action that disturbed Congress for several minutes, and that was our intention. We need members of Congress to hear our message and think about what it means to continue to illegally and indefinitely hold innocent men in Guantanamo. David Barrows was the last person to speak out and his voice projected over the crowd as he boomed, “Close Guantanamo. Stand up for human rights. Close Guantanamo. Stop killing the bill of rights.”

As we stood in the hallway right outside the House gallery, they began to handcuff us and do an initial search. Reporters tried to get close to us and Carmen continued to explain to them why we were there. The police began clearing the gallery of all observers because they were not sure if there would be others who would try to interrupt Congress.

Fourteen of us were arrested at around 4:30 pm and we were separated, men and women. The seven women were Ellen Barfield, Martha Hennesey, Judith Kelly, Bev Rice, Josie Setzer, Alice Sutter, and me, Joy First, and the seven men were David Barrows, Tom Casey, Mark Colville, Brian Hynes, Malachy Kilbride, Mike Levinson, and Carmen Trotta. The men were put in the back of one police van and the women were put in another, and we were transported to a DC station where they often process mass arrests.

We were expecting to be processed and then transferred to Central Lockup to spend the night and then wait in chains the next day to be arraigned in the late afternoon or early evening. The officer in charge asked us if any of us had any outstanding cases, and said that he did not want to hear that we did because that would be bad news for us. There are a couple of rules the police generally follow when we are arrested in DC. If we have an outstanding case, we are usually held overnight and then arraigned the next day¸ or if we live more than 50 miles from DC we will also be held overnight and arraigned the next day. I was expecting I would be in custody until 7:00 pm or so on Friday as they generally arraign the activists at the end of the day.

Being in handcuffs is always the most physically challenging part of the experience for me. They use plastic cuffs that are very painful on our wrists and after a few hours in cuffs my shoulders are really aching. So, as I sat there I remembered my brothers in Guantanamo who have been held in painful stress positions for many many hours and even for days. As I think about missing my family for a few days I remember my brothers in Guantanamo who have not seen their loved ones for nine long heartbreaking years. I know this is where I must be and what I must be doing.

After providing identification, our cuffs were removed. Both Malachy and I were told that a copy of our drivers license was not acceptable identification. The police told me I was going to be in trouble for not having my actual license, but nothing ever came of it, and throughout the processing experience they treated our copy as if it was a valid identification. Next we were thoroughly searched and patted down, and then asked a number of questions to establish our identity, including getting a picture taken with an officer. These photos will be used in court, and the officer in the photo will be identified as the arresting officer even though it is the same officer in all 14 photos, and it is not the officer who actually arrested each individual activist. This is what will be used in court to prove our identity and prove we were at the scene of the “crime”.

We were told that the fingerprinting machine was broken and we would have to go back to the main Capitol Police Station near the Capitol to get fingerprinted. There was talk that we would likely be released, but I didn’t trust the police who said this as some of us had outstanding cases and some of us lived more than 50 miles from DC. I still did not really believe they would release all of us. They cuffed the men, loaded them into a police van and the women sat on chairs in a large garage where we were being processed and waited…… and waited……. and waited. It was probably a couple of hours before they cuffed us again to transport us for fingerprinting.

Once back at the main Capitol Police Station, the women were divided and locked into a couple of holding cells. We didn’t know where the men were at this point. It took another couple of hours to fingerprint the seven of us, take our picture again, and ask us a few more questions. While I was being fingerprinted I asked the officer if we were going to be held over and he told me that everyone was going to be released. Finally, about 1:30 am my name was called as I was sitting in the holding cell. I thought they were going to ask me more questions, but they took me to the door and released me. It was so good to see David sitting in the lobby area putting his laces back in his shoes. Malachy was waiting for me outside.

Matt and Beth were there as support and had drinks and granola bars for us. Another supporter was waiting to give people rides to wherever they needed to go. It is a comfort that when we risk arrest and are taken into custody, we know there are people outside waiting to take care of us. That is an experience most people in DC jails do not have, and something the men in Guantanamo definitely do not have.

As we went back to the Hotel Harrington I was very shocked and dismayed to hear that Brian was being held overnight in Central Lockup when I thought we were all being released. I was even more shocked and could hardly believe it when I heard about the circumstances that occurred that led to Brian’s being held overnight when the rest of us were released.

A few years ago several of us who were arrested participated in an action organized by WAT. Part of this action involved not having our identification on our person when we were arrested. Rather, we told the police that we were there on behalf of a particular prisoner being held in Guantanamo and we gave the name of the prisoner as the specific person we were representing. Brian was involved in that action and gave the name of a prisoner. We were then fingerprinted and the name of the Guantanamo prisoner was attached to our fingerprints. They were eventually able to identify us because we had been arrested before and our fingerprints were on file in the computerized system and they could match us with fingerprints from previous arrests.

So, on June 23 when Brian was arrested he gave the police his driver’s license which identified him as Brian Hynes. When the police did a fingerprint search they found the name of the prisoner being held in Guantanamo listed as his real name and Brian Hynes listed as an alias. The officer in charge accused Brian of lying about his identification and said that he was really the person whose name he gave from Guantanamo – even though he had a valid drivers license listing his name as Brian Hynes.

This was absolutely absurd and the officer in charge knew it was absurd. The officer knew this was not a prisoner from Guantanamo. This particular officer is often very friendly with activists and talks to us in a very personal way, but can also quickly switch and act in a very sadistic way towards us. This reminds us that we should never forget who is in charge and has complete control over our lives during the time we are in custody. One time when I was arrested, he was bantering with me about my grandchildren. A short time later we were cuffed to be transported. An officer cuffed me loosely because we were all so sore from spending so much time in cuffs. The other officer, who can be friendly and then sadistic with us, walked up behind me and yanked the cuff so painfully tight around my wrist just because he could and to show me that he had power over me. This is a lesson for us to better understand the lives of the men in Guantanamo whose experiences are so extremely more devastating than ours while in custody that we can’t even really compare them. But we can try to understand the treatment of the men in Guantanamo when we think of the enormous power differential between the prisoners and the guards.

Brian was arraigned and released the next day. The rest of us have an arraignment date set for July 12 and then we will set a trial date. We were charged with unlawful conduct and will likely get a jury trial because we face 6 months in jail for the action. We will work together to figure out a way to continue our witness in the courtroom as we continue the struggle for justice for the men in Guantanamo.

And, in the meantime, we move on to make plans to continue to speak out against the empire through acts of nonviolent civil resistance. The National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance (NCNR) is supporting and endorsing october2011.org. This is an event that will begin with the occupation of Freedom Plaza in Washington, DC on October 6, the 10th anniversary of the invasion of Afghanistan, the longest running war in the history of our country. We will be there making our voices heard regarding the wars, the environment, healthcare, education, other human needs, etc. etc. etc – all the evils of the empire. Please go to the website october2011.org and pledge to join us in DC beginning October 6.

As part of this bigger event, NCNR will be organizing an action at the NSA in early October. We must come together. We must all speak out. Our government has become so removed from the will of the people, and is beholding to too many large corporations that give them money. The Bush Administration committed many illegal actions, but too many criminal acts continue under Obama’s watch. Now is the time for the people to come together and take back our government

Liz McAlister Gives Speech at Oct. 5th Rally

NCNR — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 17:53:49 +0000

Phil Berrigan would be 86 today. He disliked celebrations of his birthday. To give him a birthday gift meant using his birthday as the excuse to get something the community might need. But he’d so welcome the gift of this witness against weapons and war and the instruments of mass murder that you enact today. That kind of gift – he loved.

The war we resist today began in 2001; declared as a reaction to 9/11, it was fully prepared for prior to 9/11. In less than a year, Bush was agitating for war in Iraq – searching there for weapons of mass destruction. Three nuns found them in Colorado. Ardeth Platte, Carol Gilbert and Jackie Hudson enacted a Citizens’ Weapons Inspection – cutting the fence at the N-8 Missile Silo to expose the presence of a first strike nuclear weapon on high alert.

Their conviction – in the earliest days of the Second Iraq war – was a flagrant miscarriage of justice. The nuns did no sabotage; they did no felony destruction. There was no evidence for either. The judge and prosecutor coddled, coerced and lied to the jury that they might convict with no understanding of what they were convicting the nuns of doing.

For me it was the fall of the other shoe of my beloved Phil Berrigan’s dying. We have loved so deeply, worked so hard, conspired, prayed and been through so much together. And we were separated by years of prison. But perhaps their trial and sentencing are a mirror of our times, a mirror into which we must look long and close to better understand the nature of this empire and what we stand for and what we stand against.

What I find myself reflecting on most is the long view – a tough perspective for North Americans who have yet to learn that the quick fix is neither. So I look at the struggle of South Africans against apartheid. It was May 1986. I was sitting on my bed in the Federal Prison in Alderson WV; the radio announced that the struggle against Apartheid in S. Africa was being carried by 9 year olds . It seemed so impossible, so hopeless. Yet, in less than 4 years, on Feb. 11, 1990, Nelson Mandela was released after 27 years in prison; in 4 more years (May 94) he was inaugurated the first black president of South Africa.

And I look at the struggle of the Palestinians whose ties to their land go back centuries and whose children can only see giving their lives in that struggle. And I look at the Colombians and the peasants of Central America who have to renew their strength every day and every generation. And I look at the history of our own country and the struggle of working people and people of color and women. None of these struggles is won – like a ball game; each must be borne daily. Clearly, we don’t get everything we struggle for but we have to fight for everything we get. One of the tragedies in this country is the sense that freedom is a possession. We can own it; it can’t be taken from us! It has made us the most pathetic and enslaved people of the world.

In his last major talk, Phil pleaded with thousands assembled here in D.C.: Don’t get weary! So I want to echo Phil today: Don’t get weary in the face of a world that has embraced endless war and bankrupting military spending – ever newer weapons of mass destruction, $12,000 ever second of every day, a world where lies pass for truth, sound bites for wisdom, arrogance for understanding. And don’t get weary as citizens of this premeinent rogue state – rife with deceit and treachery where leader follows leader from bad to worse, as though by a malign law of nature. One ruler, evil or stupid or violent, breeds another more evil or stupid or violent. This may explain our periodic nostalgia for the likes of L.B.J.

Social critics, politicians, religionists multiply moral and political confusion. Wearyingly, they advocate verbal drugs, promises of relief, formulas of salvation, invocations to the god of the moment, pointing fingers at enemies – immigrants, the poor in our midst, the axes of evil. Religious, political and military “experts” push their wares: violence, domination, prospering of a few, misery for multitudes.

All of the above are forms of practical idolatry, though they commonly go under more acceptable names like patriotism. All are evidence of the spirit of death at large in our world, hidden persuaders, beckoners of the mighty, urging them to further unconscionable folly. In our day, the same powers legitimate the “law of the land,” act as guardian spirits of “justice systems” and world banks and prisons and torture chambers and death rows. They normalize the excesses of the Pentagon, the military budget, the necessity of military intervention. They grease the wheels of the domination system.

We have to be about something utterly different. We have to give the diagnosis of skilled surgeons of the spirit. We have to learn to touch all the places where spirit joins flesh and name them aright. The disease is sin and high crime. The times are circular and closed. The society is ill; its illness is genetic. This analysis, woeful as it is, is a unique gift of people of conscience.

The hope we have to offer is a literal hope against hope, promulgated in the teeth of the worst times. With a sense of lively contempt, it is up to us to shuck off the victim role; cease to be mute, passive, resigned, otherworldly – roles urged (no – imposed) by the culture.

Our claims may, at times, seem morbid, curmudgeonly. But we are living a hope that is concrete, of this world, and offered against the despair of present circumstances. I think we can grab it only if we grab the despair and if in that despair we are driven deeper – into – something, somewhere, someone . And, from that geography we are able to hear and realize the promise of justice; the promise of a newness wrought precisely in extremis, in exile, in moments when, it seems, there is little we can do but cling there.

And you know what – it is happening: It is happening here today/ among us. It is happening all over our world. Things are way more dynamic and alive that those in power calculate. Those who believe they are in control are deceived. The good news is that we have not collapsed or imploded with despair at this war! Many of us understand that a deeper resistance is summoned of us. We are trying, praying, working – to be strategic, to be faithful, to be human. And we know that we must keep at it – in all those areas and more.

The powers of death and destruction reign – or so it seems. But they are undone. So, dear friends, let us not be awed by the mayhem with which the powers of this world seeks to bamboozle us. Let us embrace intransigent resistance; let us imagine that a new world is possible. And then let us live as if that new world were indeed among us and so live it into being. Let us then ABOLISH ALL NUCLEAR WEAPONS AND ALL WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION and ABOLISH ALL WAR FOREVER AND EVER. AMEN.

DOJ Accountability Action

NCNR — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 01:15:44 +0000

DOJ Accountability Action Report
by Joy First

On May 11 the National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance (NCNR) (www.iraqpledge.org) mailed a letter to Attorney General Eric Holder asking him to meet with us to discuss appointing a special prosecutor to investigate the crimes of the Bush Administration. Since we did not hear back from him, we decided we should go in person to the Department of Justice and ask for a meeting. The crimes of the Bush Administration were so heinous, causing suffering and death for hundreds of thousands of innocent people and they must be held accountable. We must restore the rule of law through prosecution of the war crimes.

Thursday was Torture Accountability Action Day, with people coming together all over the country, remembering that we must hold members of the Bush administration accountable for their crimes. In Washington, DC there was a vigil at a park a few blocks from the Department of Justice with many inspirational speakers. See videos below for excerpts.

After the rally we began our procession to the Department of Justice for an action organized by NCNR. Almost 200 people marched down Pennsylvania Ave. holding banners calling for the prosecution of members of the Bush Administration for war crimes. When we arrived at the Department of Justice we were stopped at the door by the guards and they told us someone would be out to talk to us. The same low-level public relations official that we talked to when we went to the DoJ last November came to speak to us. All he would say is that he would take our letter. We told him that we were there in November. In November he told us he would take the letter and someone would get back to us, but we never heard from anyone. When it became clear that we were not going to be heard, about 15 individuals were moved by conscience to engage in an act of nonviolent civil resistance and lay down on the sidewalk, covered with a poster depicting a victim of war or torture. The pictures were very graphic and moving. They clearly showed the crimes of the past administration. We lay there for an hour and were not arrested. After an hour we got up to continue our work for peace and justice.

Watch the Video: Activists Demand Special Prosecutor for Torture

A Rose, A Coffin, and Freckles

NCNR — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 01:34:49 +0000

A Rose, A Coffin, and Freckles
by Johnny Barber

Our action at Congress was very powerful. For me, it had quite a few memorable moments that are still with me this morning.

I stood in silence in front of a young woman as well as a young man, both members of the Capital police, holding the line, barring our progress to the steps of the Capital. I held the white rose I had been given in the park close to my heart. John Carlo (a poet and gardener from San Francisco) stood next to me, holding the cardboard coffin over his head. The entire time the young male officer in front of me, eyes hidden behind dark shades, stood tensed, ready for confrontation. The young woman officer stood tensed as well, but over the course of the “negotiations” she visibly relaxed. She was short and the white rose I held was very near her face (we were toe to toe, like dance partners). Her face was freckled, she wasn’t wearing sun glasses and her eyes were beautiful, green and clear…So in this tableaux, we stood, silent- and the earth roared! For a moment, I wondered where they were at, what they were thinking, but I did not ask. Together, we shared the scent of a rose (what does a rose mean but love, beauty, delicacy, and care) and in that moment, I loved them…. After a short amount of time, and several arrests, John Carlo was left holding the front of the coffin by himself, and actually put it over the heads of the 2 big cops in front of him. He said, “Can you feel it? We are all in this coffin together. Can you? Can you feel it?”, he quietly implored, “This coffin is the Iraq war and we are in it together.” He words blew me wide open. Me, a white rose, the police barring our way, their arms linked, freckles and clear green eyes, a coffin with the photos of dead children and soldiers, the names of the dead scrawled across it. The ediface of Congress, like an unattainable Oz, or the great city on the hill (equally unattainable), maybe one hundred yards distant. Yet the truth right at hand (God bless the poets) “Can you feel it?”, he said.

Can you?

Meanwhile, the arrests continued, there were 4 or 5 of us left. The officer in front of me, tensed like an offensive lineman, hands up, ready to defend the line, seemed unmoved. I looked at him closely and I leaned forward, nearly whispering, “No one is going to try to push past you.” “We have to be ready”, he replied. I said, “Yes, but we are here non-violently. I am holding a rose.” He laughed and said, “yes, I know.” “I will not break through the line,” I said. After several moments I noticed he relaxed, and unlinked his arm from the officer next to him. John Carlo was led away, but before he moved, he asked the policewoman next to him if she would hold the coffin for him–and she agreed. She took the front of the coffin and held it over her head, and became part of our action! When the person holding the rear of the coffin was going to be arrested, together they placed the coffin gently on the ground, as if they were laying someone to rest. As they looked at each other, he said, “These pictures represent the hundreds of thousands who have died in this senseless war.”

As I was handcuffed and led away, I noticed the tourists who had gathered, particularly a father and his two young boys, who watched me carefully and i thought of my son, his kindness and understanding (as much as a 7-year-old can grasp these things), as well as his fear of what I do, and I wondered how this young father would explain these events to his sons. Walking to the police van, a supporter said, “God bless you” and I felt blessed. Waiting to enter the police van, I asked the cop holding my elbow how he was doing on this morning, staring straight ahead, he said, “I’m ok.” “That’s good”, I replied, as I broke into a big smile, “Here we are together, both doing what we need to do, what could be better?” He said, “Yeah… I guess so.” I continued smiling as I climbed into the van and the doors slammed behind me.

This morning, the white rose is fading to brown, though its fragrance is even stronger than yesterday. I sit with it and embrace my soul mates on the other side of the line–freckles and the lineman, as well as the cops in the coffin, and the beautiful police officer who agreed to hold the coffin as John Carlo was led away in handcuffs. I think of all those who work for peace and justice, and what you are willing to give, and I recognize a beauty that is indescribable, but sustains me like food and water, like breath. And I contemplate a Rumi poem: “In the driest, whitest stretch of pain’s infinite desert, I lost my sanity and found this rose.”

May this dreadful war end. May all beings be at peace.

May all beings enjoy happiness and the root of happiness.

May all beings be free from suffering and the root of suffering.

May they not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.

May they dwell in equanimity free of passion, aggression, and prejudice.

Blessings, Peace and love,

Johnny

The Day We Took Over the Senate

NCNR — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 01:26:04 +0000

The Day We Took Over the Senate

By Gordon Clark

Even for these now veteran activist eyes, it was a glorious and inspiring sight to see.

On Tuesday, September 26, more than 100 nonviolent activists took over the central lobby and atrium of the Hart Senate Office Building, and staged a protest of the war in Iraq while dozens and dozens of Senate staffers looked on. For one hour, at least, American opposition to the war in Iraq became the central focus for these offices of the U.S. Senate, and 71 individuals were arrested for making this happen.

The action was organized by the National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance (formerly the Iraq Pledge of Resistance), as part of the week of anti-war actions around the country organized by the Declaration of Peace campaign.

The action started that morning with a rally and interfaith service at Upper Senate Park. Another remarkable aspect of the day was the presence of national religious leaders, such as Jackie Lynn, head of the Episcopal Peace Fellowship, and Rick Ufford-Chase, Director of the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship and for the past two years the moderator of the 216th Presbyterian General Assembly – the highest office in the denomination. They were not only participating themselves in our nonviolent direct action, but were now urging their faith communities to begin following suit.

At the end of the rally and service we formed a procession to go by the Capitol building and then on to the Senate office buildings. Police stopped us after three blocks, telling us that the large procession constituted an unpermitted demonstration and that we would not be allowed to continue. It was at this point that one affinity group broke away, and crossed police lines and Constitution Ave., carrying a coffin to the steps of the Capitol. Sixteen were arrested for that act of nonviolent witness.

The remaining 200 or so of us, however, were suddenly left without any police presence at all, since literally every one of their offices had followed the coffin. As our goal was to get to the offices of the U.S. Senate, we decided to simply turn around and head back up Constitution Ave. to the Senate office buildings – which we did without incident until some of the police realized their mistake, came roaring back and set up a line to stop us in front of the Russell Senate Office Building, one block short of our ultimate goal.

A small group of us conducted negotiations with an officer of the Capitol Police for 15-20 minutes. Although they continued to assert that our procession was illegal and could not continue – if we wanted to visit our Senators, they said, we had to return to Upper Senate Park (where we did have a permit), leave all our signs and banners behind and break up into small groups – the officer in charge was a model of courtesy, and in fact, an extremely friendly fellow. When their “final” decision was made, our decision was to stay put. We intended to proceed as a group, no matter what, and if they felt compelled to arrest us they would have to do it right there.

The police gave a five minute warning, but that five minutes passed and nothing happened. Ten of our number managed to cross the police line and get to the Russell building entrance, where they were promptly detained and arrested. Others called their senators’ offices to demand to know why weren’t being allowed in to see them. A giant Gandhi puppet, carrying a sign that said “Be the change you want to see in the world,” came rolling down Constitution Ave. and evoked a huge cheer from our crowd, all the more so because the same puppet had earlier been stopped by police who refused to allow it near the Capitol complex. Interestingly, Gandhi was now being given an entire lane of traffic on Constitution Ave.

While all this was happening, Rick Ufford-Chase continued to negotiate with the police. Rick is a pretty darn friendly guy himself, and apparently a heck of a negotiator, since after another 15-20 minutes it was announced that if we left our large banners behind, we would be allowed to proceed as a group, enter the Hart Senate Office Building, and reassemble after passing through security. Rick had re-emphasized our commitment to nonviolence, and had patiently explained that our planned action in the Hart atrium would be a respectful, interfaith-led protest of the war in Iraq. The police explained that if we did that, we would likely be arrested inside the Hart building.

When this agreement was announced, it was immediately apparent how remarkable and unprecedented it was. The Capitol police would allow us to continue what they considered an unpermitted demonstration, and then enter a Senate office building – for the express purpose of carrying out another illegal demonstration. (The charge given those arrested inside was “unlawful assembly.”)

While a number of us continued a protest outside, more than 100 of us entered the Hart building. For those not familiar with it, the Hart Senate Office Building is really quite beautiful and unlike any other Congressional office, in that is designed around a giant, open, building high-lobby and atrium, with senate offices lining the seven stories facing on to the atrium. If you control the atrium, you essentially control the entire building.

And that is precisely what we did. With some reading the names of the dead or holding up peace signs on the balconies surrounding the lobby, a large group assembled in a circle on the first floor for our nonviolent witness against the war. As it went on, the balconies filled with onlookers, until finally all seven stories, on all four sides, were lined with senate staffers and visitors watching the protest and eventual arrests. Several applauded and gave thumbs up. The protest also garnered the front page and a full inside page spread of the following day’s Roll Call newspaper, meaning that every office on Capitol Hill knew about it within 24 hours.

I have often heard “this is what democracy looks like” chanted during street marches and protests. Standing in this august senate office building, with our protest being watched by a majority of the people working there, I had the profound feeling that this is exactly what democracy should look like. If our elected leaders refuse to heed the will of the people, then we the people will take over their offices until they do. It happens in other countries around the world, usually to our great approval, so why not here in the U.S. as well? Truly, this was democracy in its purest and finest form.

People were peacefully arrested, and led away. They joined their colleagues from the previous arrests, and had by all accounts a time of great community and fellowship during the several hours it took the police to process and release them all. Those of us waiting outside the police station heard frequent outbursts of laughter and applause. The police officer in charge sought me out at the end to thank me several times over, and stated plainly that they were glad they were able to help us accomplish what we wanted to do that day.

Relationships with police are a complicated and challenging matter for our movement, a source of often heated debate. And this particular police force in question had a somewhat different interpretation of our goal, believing we were there “to be arrested.” (While the nonviolent activist is willing to risk arrest and make other sacrifices, our goal is not to be arrested. We usually end up reminding the police of this, and inviting them to not arrest us the next time, but rather to join us.)

The fact remains, though, that this is one of several examples – we’ve been doing nonviolent actions since before the Iraq war began – where different police forces in the nation’s capital not only treated us well, but actually helped us achieve our goal. A large part of that has to do with our own commitment to nonviolence, which leads us to treat all people, including our adversaries and even arresting offices, with openness and respect. Respect them, and often they will respect you in return.

Just as important, though, is the fact that many of these police, possibly even the large majority of them, actually agree with us and support what we’re doing. They have privately told our activists this on many, many occasions. They have brothers and sisters and buddies in the military, and lost some of them, and they are just as sick of this war as we are. It reminds one directly of the epilogue in the updated edition of Howard Zinn’s classic People’s History of the United States, where he argues that a “revolt of the palace guards” may be part of how a peaceful revolution happens in this country. Listening to and working with these police, one gets the feeling the revolution may be a little closer than we think.

National Stand-Down Day

NCNR — Sun, 20 Nov 2005 01:41:43 +0000

End the Iraq War – Demonstrations and Nonviolent Resistance at Recruiting Stations Across the Country

On November 18, 2005, the National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance organized National Stand Down Day, with nonviolent actions at recruiting centers around the country. It is at these centers that young Americans who are willing to go into harm’s way, if necessary, to serve and defend their country are instead persuaded – and often deceived – into becoming harm’s ministers, killing and dying in a war based on lies that has claimed more then 100,000 Iraqi lives and nearly 2,000 Americans. National Stand Down Day actions happened at at least 22 recruiting centers around the country.

Examples of press accounts of National Stand Down Day actions:

Colorado Springs: 3 war protesters accused of trespassing

By DENNIS HUSPENI – THE GAZETTE

Three war protesters were issued tickets Friday alleging they trespassed after a demonstration in front of a military recruiting office on North Academy Boulevard.

The demonstration started just after 10 a.m. Friday at the military recruiting office at 5721 N. Academy Blvd. Recruiters called police after some in the group allegedly crawled on the roof to hang a banner.

The building holds recruiting offices for the Army, Air Force, Navy and Marines.