| From West by Northwest.org Voices of Peace A Cross and A Fence By Peg Morton Dec 3, 2003
I'm just home from the annual gathering of 10,000 at Fort Benning in Georgia to demand the closing of the SOA/WHISC (Army School of the Americas, re-named Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation). This school that has taught torture and massacre has done nothing about the fact that so many of its graduates have been documented perpetrators and have not been brought to justice. It is a part of the military arm of global economic policies that create poverty and environmental destruction. There has been documented deep involvement of many prominent graduates of the school. This year's gathering was as rich and strong as ever, with testimonies from Latin America, music, speeches, workshops, puppet parades, a time of re-connecting with friends and making new ones, and ending with a solemn funeral procession in memory of the hundreds of thousands of ordinary civilian people who have died. This large, multifaceted, nonviolent movement involves legislative actions, educational outreach, fasting, endorsements, mass actions, local actions, media coverage, and civil disobedience. After much reflection, and the laying aside of many fears, my heart called me to join others and cross the line onto Fort Benning property in an act of nonviolent civil disobedience. This year, over 40 people crossed the line. The Sunday funeral procession is led by a group of people dressed in black robes and white masks, carrying coffins. They stop and "die" in front of the gate. My affinity group members became the mourners, sitting and kneeling among them. As I sat among them, I listened and wept as name after name of the massacred were read from the stage, and people walked forward raising their crosses and other symbols, shouting "Presente!" I have been to Guatemala many times, have heard the stories of survivors and slept in their dirt-floored huts. But, as the procession continued and I gazed at the oncoming rows of people, my weeping becamse weeping of hope. I realized, deep inside, the strength and love in this mass of people, only a few of the millions around the world who are working, praying, marching for peace. Later, the 40 of us, with a large crowd of supporters, walked to a place where there was a gate but no fence, and then crossed over. Our supporters cheered and clapped. We all sang "We shall overcome." Then we were handcuffed and led to a bus, transported to a processing center on the base. There we were sternly and loudly ordered around. Kathy Kelly was among us, four times nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize. She founded Voices in the Wilderness that advocates for the people of Iraq, and she was in Iraq during the entire war. She gently asked, "Why are you speaking so loudly?" She was immediately kicked hard in the back and manacled, chains around her feet, then chained to her handcuffs, then carried, stomach down, to the table where she was to be questioned. There, she was set down in kneeling position. During the entire process she was completely composed, head up, looking her questioners in the eye and with a gentle smile. Another woman, a Catholic sister with white hair, gave her I.D. and her name and address orally. Other questions included social security and phone numbers, nick-names and level of education. She refused to answer them, asking to call her lawyer. She was threatened, "We will enter you as Jane Doe; you will be in the county jail for a year and nobody will care." She quietly repeated her response—and later was released with the rest of us. A girl sat crying on a bench near us. It turned out that she is underage, and was picked up with a group of students who had driven all the way from Nebraska for the demonstration and lost their way, driving onto the base. She had cursed the military police when they questioned her. She had no right to call her parents or a lawyer. We were happy that she was released soon after we arrived in the county jail. We were driven, shackled, to the jail, where we were welcomed by inmates with waves and grins as we passed by a holding cell. Dressed in jail clothes, we entered the area where we were to be confined—concrete, bright lights, a common room with some round tables and attached stools, surrounded by cells. We were greeted there by nine dejected college students. They had not only been jailed for getting lost, but had been told that they committed a felony and would lose their student loans. Over the next 20 hours, we shared our stories, laughed, sang beautifully, had a time of reflection, ate—basically-- sugar and white bread, and slept. It was truly a privilege to be with this group of women. The following morning, Monday, we were taken one by one to court. The SOA Watch legal team was there to help. We were released on $1,000 bonds (cash, up from $500 last year). We were a "flight risk," dispite the fact that our movement has a 100% record of complaince. The money will be returned when we come for trial. By the afternoon, volunteers had raised the cash needed for the entire group, and we were released to a cheering crowd. The trial is set for January 26 in Columbus, Georgia, and will be preceded by several days of preparation and community building. Our actions are infinitely more effective when there is media support, and it has been strong locally. We go to jail to bring the school to trial. Public awareness is growing and must continue to grow. Copyright © 2003 by Peg Morton For more background visit Crossing The Line at Fort Benning: A Discernment Process by Peg Morton and follow the links. © Copyright 2000-2004 by West by Northwest.org |
