Walk for Justice
July 12, 2006
By Diane Hughes
Although lack of sleep is generally not the best preparation for any undertaking, let alone nonviolent civil disobedience, despite a restless night and a bit of bronchitis, I felt determined to participate in the last day of the Voices for Creative Nonviolence Walk for Justice to the Military Enlistment Processing Command at Great Lakes Naval Base. This day would also provide an opportunity to participate in the nonviolent civil disobedience that Walk organizer Jeff Leys had hoped would complete the Walk.
For some time I had done what’s expected of good and faithful citizens who disagree with wayward government policies: I’d become informed from various sources, participated in vigils, organized educational programs, communicated with my Senators and Congressman, written letters to the editor, and voted for the lesser of two evils. With an increase in death and injury of Iraqi citizens and US soldiers, escalation of US hegemony, even more accounts of Administration lies, torture and unwarranted imprisonment at Guantanamo, and extraordinary rendition, my fear, anger, sadness, and frustration moved me beyond dialogue to a desire for action.
So on this truly beautiful day, it felt right to finish the Walk (having participated in its first two days from Springfield to Greenview) and take my civic responsibility seriously by risking arrest while standing on military ground and reading the names of the dead.
During the Walk and vigil, I had a chance to center my thoughts on the relevance and implications of our action; greet old Voices friends; meet Ceylon, another companion on the NVCD journey; and talk with other vigilers. One Veteran for Peace from Sheboygan commiserated about our common experience of vigiling in conservative communities. Cassandra, a Catholic Worker, also traveled from Wisconsin. She told me that she staffs a hospitality house just outside the federal prison, providing comfort for families and friends who travel miles and miles to visit their loved ones incarcerated there. My resolve was strengthened by these and the other good people with whom I shared the final leg of this month-long journey.
As we got closer to the MEPCOM, drivers passed our signs, mostly honking in support or throwing up two fingers in the universal sign of peace. We broke off from the vigilers as we went to one entrance, then another, looking for a way through the gate. As we got closer, we formed a plan and easily crossed the threshold of MEPCOM. We stepped several feet into the parking lot, unfurled Ceylon’s banner, and read off the names of Iraqi citizens and U.S. soldiers dead from this War, completing each name with the ringing of a bell. One of the soldiers told us that we were trespassing on government property, and if we didn’t leave we would be arrested.
As Jeff spoke with another officer, Ceylon said to the first that we would stop reading if we could go into the building and read the names. As Jeff was arrested, we sat down and continued to read from the long list: each name a real individual who had experienced beautiful days like this one; many young people who would never live to bear children; young children who never knew why someone from another country would inhabit their land and effectivley take away their childhood; and parents who could do nothing — nothing — to protect their children.
In less than a few minutes we were also arrested, made to lay face down on the ground, put our hands behind us, be lifted to stand, patted down, searched, and processed.
Although I can say that I was treated well under the circumstances, I don’t believe that was quite the case for Mike Ferner, a photojournalist who was taking pictures of our arrest, asked to leave, and, when he left as requested, arrested anyway.
During our five-hour booking and since there was no room available for me, from my vantage point in the reception area, I was able to observe the comings and goings, looks of surprise as one officer pointed in amazement at least two of the rap sheets. It was also just long enough to witness the softening of the all-business staff into good people who were just doing their jobs. There were candid revelations that we were asked not to repeat which confirmed some of my greatest fears about what can happen in the fog of war.
The three of us who crossed the line with intention were charged with trespass to federal land and released on a $10,000 personal recognizance bond (which my lawyer husband tells me is quite high for a misdemeanor). Although Mike was also released on personal recognizance, he was additionally charged with obstruction of justice and resisting arrest. On July 20, we will appear in state, not federal, court in the Circuit Court of Lake County in Waukegan.
Before we left, the booking officer asked us if we thought we’d accomplished anything. I replied that I had done all the things a good citizen should do when disagreeing with the government. Yes, I did accomplish something: a sense of power in resistance to injustice. And if anyone who witnessed our action or learned about it in any other way feels called to think differently about the War, or feels moved to take their next step, our action will have achieved that much more.
If I had to do it over, I would do it again. Spending all my professional life in healthcare — as a registered nurse and social worker — I believe that this War is a health care issue of huge magnitude. If my calling is to heal, as one individual I can think of no better way to contribute to healing than to do what I can to stop the hurting. My faith as a Catholic who believes in a wounded Redeemer allows for no less. And my compassion as a parent calls me beyond tears of sadness to solidarity with the Iraqi and U.S. mothers.
