"...any soldier that refuses to fight in this war has my respect."

...quoted from Kyle Snyder who, having participated in war, is now resisting it ... from Canada (read his story: ttp://www.couragetoresist.org/x/content/view/110/27/).

Robin Long, another warrior and war resister seeking refuge in Canada, says, "...a soldier is just a uniform following orders, a warrior is the man or woman that follows their conscience and does the right thing in the face of adversity."

I find this very touching... "a warrior is the man or woman that follows their conscience and does the right thing in the face of adversity." For, yes, Robin is extending the current definition of a warrior and his extension is particularly important in light of the prejudice that exists against the military by the Left and peace activists.

As a “military mom” who has skin in the game (my child is a well trained warrior fighting in the Global War on Terror) as well as a thoroughly anti-war woman derived from generations of men who fought in various wars, I’m in a unique position experiencing the American “left” and “right” ideologies on war.

While I did not live in the U.S. during the Vietnam War era, I was affected by this war even in far away South Africa. Somehow, I was affected viscerally. I "knew" -- albeit I had very little understanding of the politics accompanying war -- the broad expanse of what was happening in Vietnam to the indigenous people and to the invaders. Maybe I knew it because I'd grown up hearing the war stories of my family members in war: my great grandfather engaged in the British war in Afghanistan in the 1830s; my Welsh grandfather was a home guard in England during the WW II Blitz and I heard his stories of death and destruction; my English grandfather went to South Africa as an 18-year-old soldier for the British Empire against the guerilla Boers; my Afrikaner grandmother - yes, she married a British soldier! - was 5th generation resister to British colonialism; my two brothers deployed as conscripts for the Apartheid regime (this was after Vietnam War) on "the border" of Angola.

Essentially, while the venue, the weaponry, the faces change, the essence of war is always the same: it is about destruction and “power over.”

Growing up amongst people who have experienced war and paying attention to the symptoms and detrimental psychological effects of war, I notice the “shorthand” or sound-bite thinking that is common amongst Americans about war: American Left = war and military: BAD; American Right=war and military: GOOD.

Robin Long and others like him - Kyle Snyder, Darrel Anderson, Kevin Benderman, Lt. Watada, Agustin Aguayo – may have entered the military as ideologues and for a variety of reasons (including excellent salesmanship by recruiters) but they’ve come out as empiricists. It is a great thing for this country that they’ve managed to hold onto their humanity, despite military training, and that they now not only refuse to participate in killing but are willing to promote the discussion about war. They’ve engaged the realities of war on the battlefield and now they’re engaging the war of ideologies and communicating their learning to deepen the debate in this country about war.

Robin has learned that a "warrior" is an archetype and not "just" a stereotype of a numbed-out killing machine. It is particularly touching that this young man has come to this understanding through the day-to-day experience of war. It is a triumph of humanity that people like Robin Long, Kyle Snyder, Kevin Benderman, Lt. Watada, Agustin Aguayo and so many others manage to hold onto their humanity... despite the training… and refuse to participate in the killing.

The definition of "warrior" is broad. Let’s introduce the concept of the warrior archetype into the anti-war movement. To be a warrior is not to be "for war." To be a peace activist is also to be a warrior. To be a warrior for truth, and community, and generative ideals such as collaboration, negotiation, multilateralism, and the complexity of diversity is to be a warrior for peace.

Of cluster bombs and other abominations….

“… Israel stands accused of littering southern Lebanon with thousands of unexploded bombs in the final hours of its war against Hizbollah.” (Read article: http://www.commondreams.org/headlines06/0831-05.htm)

So, today, a quick review of cluster bombs, or Cluster Bomb Units (CBUs) as they’re called.

The BBC's Military Fact File writes: Cluster bombs are controversial weapons consisting of a canister which breaks apart to release a large number of small bombs. A range of so-called bomblets can be employed to attack different targets such as armoured vehicles or people - or to start fires.

They can cover a large area but do not have precision guidance. Dropped from medium to high altitudes, they can wander off target.

There is a significant "dud rate" of about 5%. In other words, many do not explode but, rather like landmines, litter the ground with the potential to explode years later.
(Read more: http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/static/in_depth/world/2001/cluster_bomb/1.stm)

If you're wondering why a kid would pick one up, take a look at the photo below where a CBU is compared in color and size to a Pez dispenser.

Learn more: http://www.itvs.org/bombies/bombs.html

One question you have to ask yourself: is this something I want to be paying taxes towards? If the answer is "no" let the US Department of Defense know by sending them an email at http://www.defenselink.mil/faq/comment.html

Heading back home

Maybe it is too early to pronounce the drought broken around Crawford but today, Tuesday August 29, is cooler and cloudy in Dallas where I await a flight to Oakland. I’m awed by the heat around here: the temperature range from 99 to 106 degrees Fahrenheit is incredibly hard on the body and the spirit. My total sleep hours in the last week: about 12… most of them accumulated since the storm yesterday plus last night in a bed with sheets in a hotel bed instead of on an air mattress in a tent (shared with a large, fast spider).

Yesterday was a big day in Crawford and Camp Casey. TexDOT (Texas Dept of Transportation) finally got around to allowing the completion of the water pipe to the property line. The general opinion amongst the camp regulars was that the delay had more to do with passive aggression toward the new settlement than with lack of TexDOT resources to finish the job. Nevertheless, yesterday mid-morning, a young Crawford fellow in a big backhoe humped and clunked and struggled through the rocky ground and the humid air and dug the channel. Then, mid-afternoon, two Code Pink lassies danced under a stream of Camp Casey III’s first flow of water out the new pipe; Camp Casey lads nodded in admiration and appreciation. (I thought of the champagne ejaculated at the winner of a manly competition.)

The day before yesterday, two Black Hawk helicopters scouting the area hinted at the imminent return of our over-esteemed Prez to his brush-free ranch. When I left Crawford yesterday afternoon, an energetic Camp Casey Welcome Wagon and attendant posse was gearing up for appropriate festivities.

Based on these preparations, I have some advice to George/43: Talk to Cindy! Until you two square away this question of What Noble Cause Killed Casey and Continues Killing our Kids (including Iraqi, Afghan, and now Lebanese kids) all y’all White Housers are gonna be bird-dogged. Far better advice: since no reasonable or acceptable squaring can ever exist as an answer to this question, give up The Fort; sign a decree stating you’ll go for Early Retirement with Full Retirement Benefits. (Hell, knock yourself out! Draft your 800^th or so Signing Statement to accompany the decree and clarify your thinking for history. Not only will We the People not hold this Signing Statement against you, We the People, will – finally -- be pleased with one of your presidential decrees.)

Short of that, you and yours are as inviting as fresh-but-limping red meat – a snack-on-the-hoof -- to a well-organized, highly focused pride of hungry lionesses… and I mean “pride” in its most iconic form. You are facing a group of beautiful, efficient, and holistic creatures with a purpose and a niche in an ecosystem on an evolving planet (oops, you don’t believe in evolution, do you?)

Frankly George, you don’t have a chance! Remember, it is the lionesses – not the lions -- that are the actual hunters. You just haven’t accepted that you are already outwitted, overrun, and scarfed-up.

If you won’t or can’t accept my advice, take the immortal advice our military professionals offer our suffering young’uns: Suck it up!

But, I digress.

Camp Casey III is less than 6 weeks old. As a neophyte settlement it is still working out the kinks (so am I and I am 2,652 weeks old!) but one thing that is clear here: the women are in control. And they’re in control in the way of women: relational, focused, relational, hardworking, relational, intent, and relational again. By interesting quirks of fate and serendipity, one of Camp Casey’s most fearless leaders is Colonel Ann Wright (ret.). Out the window goes the simplistic Lefty stereotype that military is ALWAYS … well, militaristic – and NEVER humane. Col. Ann Wright is well-trained and organized, disciplined, focused, comfortable with authority but not authoritarian; her speech is direct, her communication is clear, and she is humane. These are all good traits and can be taught instrumentally. But, Ann Wright goes beyond instrumental teaching. She also embodies deep integrity. This trait can also be learned. But, integrity is an intangible that can be modeled only by those possessing it. Moreover, it is learned … intuitively … via “nose”. That is, one interested in practicing integrity doesn’t actually sign up for a class called “Integrity 101”, nor are there any Integrity Colloquia. But, a sensitive “nose” knows when the whiff in the air, the je ne sais quoi, is Integrity. And, if one has the “nose” to sniff Integrity, one has the potential to embody Integrity. Col. Ann Wright encourages the replication of Integrity by embodying it.

This is Transformational Education at its best.

August 27, Camp Casey.... and HOT!

A quick note about Camp Casey doin’s today. Mostly it is VERY hot. And I’m quite surprised how tough it is for me to adjust to the heat. Next time I won’t try to camp in a tent under the baking sun with little access to water for cooling down. Am I officially “old” or just “too pampered”?

The bus carrying a number of families traveling from Seattle to New Orleans stopped by this afternoon. They had lunch then took a tour of historical Camp Casey, “the Ditch,” aka Camp Casey 1, Camp Casey 2 (near Bush’s ranch under the big tent) and Camp Casey 3, the current 5-acre spot that is morphing into the permanent settlement. The travelers will be on their way to Houston after that, due in NO tomorrow.

News from another front in the struggle to “reclaim the commons” (that is, the common humanity between all of us that deserves full expression): Mike Ferner, Vet for Peace, writer and author (his recent book, Inside the Red Zone (http://www.greenwood.com/catalog/C9243.aspx) is out this September) all round generous guy (met him in Baghdad’s Agideer Hotel in 2004 when he helped me locate my son on the military base) and with many other credits towards his humanity, felt strongly enough about the war and the apparent lack of effort from our fellow citizens, that he sprayed a message on a bridge in Toledo. Now he is under house arrest until the end of October… with a tracking bracelet on his ankle. Read Mike’s article: http://www.selvesandothers.org/article14943.html. Holy spit! Shades of Apartheid South Africa.

Killen, Texas, Home of Ft. Hood

Friday afternoon, 4p.m., 100 or so degrees

Our group of eight set off from Camp Casey, Crawford, Texas, to hand out GI Rights information to military personnel leaving Ft. Hood. We were workin' the signs with the Hotline phone number: 1-800-394-9544.

Killen, I'm discovering, is about the same as so many -- not-bay-area -- towns in the U.S.: sprawling, one- and two-storey buildings, lots of convenience-type stores, smallish parking lots but lots of 'em, lots of dead space (by "dead" I mean .... un-energized space... space that feels abandoned... space with no there there; picture weeds growing in the cracks in the pavement and you sharing my feeling….). And lots of big pick-up trucks….

We parked in one of these small parking lots near Lemil's Nails #2, the cleaner and boot repair store, the gas station. The ripe smell of death lingered in the air... a decaying cat lay in the gutter. Wendy and I took up our spots near this decomposition on the corner of the small parking lot serving LeMil’s Nails # 2. Despite the Eau de Death it was a good spot as several GIs - and a Company Commander - turned into the lot to talk.

Darrel was the first GI to turn off the main drag into the lot. He is a "lifer" and soon will be on his way back to Iraq for the 4th time! My conversation with Darrell included what he had to lose if he quit the army: his bennies, his career, his Honorable Discharge. If he stayed in and returned to Iraq for the 4th time he could lose his leg(s), his arm(s), his mental health, his life. He took several accordion cards and we looked into one another’s eyes. He understood that I understood: this is serious stuff.

Jason was attracted to our advertisements (Wendy’s sign presented the Hotline phone number; my sign read: “Resist! Ask me how!”). Jason has served one tour of duty in Iraq and has a second tour coming up. Again, that familiar intense look into my eyes to see if I could be trusted. Jason kept his engine running while we talked. Actually Darrel had left his engine running too but with Jason it felt furtive, like he was a john and I a hooker and he might spook at any moment, tamp down his need, and disappear. Intuiting Jason’s conflicts – the fear of knowing and the compulsion to know more -- I talked about going to Iraq to visit my son and about knowing a teeny tiny slice of what our troops faced over there. I told him that there are a lot of people in the States who don’t support his being sent back, many people who don’t support the war, and that, if he has any questions about what is on the accordion card or what options are open to him, he should call the Hotline. Jason started crying and his eyes asked me not to acknowledge these tears. When I started tearing up he understood he was safer than he’d thought. Then, with a “yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am” he revved his car, turned around, and left.

Company Commander Tom Weiss walked up behind me before I noticed him. His arms were folded across his chest when he asked me, “What are you doing? What is this about?”

I held up Resist! Ask me how! - and explained we were sharing information about GI Rights with any GIs who stopped and indicated a desire to talk. Tom and I engaged in one of those looping conversation about “those who bomb and kill and chop off heads” and “those who try to prevent it.” Since this is the familiar Loop that Exhausts, I moved the conversation to recruiters, recruitment strategies, and the young folks who have no business being in the military and the recruiters who know it. I added the recent news about 80 upcoming trials for recruiters charged with raping potential recruits. Tom asked for the name of the investigating reporter.

“Martha Mendoza.”

“I’d heard there are a few such cases but didn’t know it was that many.”

“And these are cases that we know about and that are going to trial ….”

Tom and I continued talking then he said, “Well, you and I are going to have to agree to disagree.”

“Tom, we’re not disagreeing. You and I are sharing worldviews and we’re doing so in a manner that is respectful and communicative.”

“We are,” he said. He held out his hand and we shook on that.

The sidewalk was hot. The still air stunk. My feet were swelling. Wendy turned back to look at me. I poured a stream of lukewarm water down the front of my chest and down my back and adjusted the borrowed straw Stetson shading my face; the slight movement caused a momentary coolness on my scalp.

I looked back at the rest of our team -- Rebecca, Carl, Hart, James -- handing out accordion cards on the T-junction; they looked as if they could go on forever.

Another large SUV stopped near me and the BDU’d driver beckoned me. His companion was a robust young woman with hair pushed under her camo cap. I held up “Resist! Ask me how” as we talked. They were concerned that I not dis the military – and by extension their choice of career and way of life.

He said, “I thought maybe you were one of those anti-war peaceniks who were against the military….”

“Well, I am against the war. I’m against young people being lied to by recruiters, been told they won’t be sent to war, and being threatened with jail if they want to get out…. They don’t want to be there and you don’t want them to be there either if you life depends on them, do you?”

“I sure don’t.”

The young woman remarked, “Everyone knows that recruiters lie…that’s part of their job. I hated boot camp too. But, within a month of joining my permanent unit, I loved it.”

Essentially, this conversation continued in this vein with the added twist that the young woman shared her view that, “female GIs push themselves at recruiters and the male GIs then, after they have sex with the men and the men move on, the women shout ‘rape’.”

The Killen police arrived at the T-junction and Wendy and I moved toward that group to follow events. Their arrival was a continuance of an ongoing conversation about exactly where protestors could stand on the sidewalk and exactly what we could do and not do.

Our teams drove back to Camp Casey; Freedom, Democracy, and Fourth Amendment Rights survived another day in Killen.

Way to go Joey!

Joey is a Waco anarchist. He’s 18, has a “Wo-hawk” hair cut (that’s called a “Mohawk” outside of TX – I just made up that term Wo-hawk so don’t try it on your other Waco anarchists friends), Joey is a black leather with big silver studs belt-wearing waitperson at Papa Rollo’s Pizza. He knows he won’t go in the military but he is trying to figure out what to do with his life – orthodontist is high on his list right now. (He grinned and showed his braces…”I think it would be cool to help other kids with their braces” he said.) And, we – Barbara, Jane, Michael, Maryellen, Wendy, and Richard and me – are Joey’s heroes…the only peace activists he’s known in his life so far (that won’t last… I predict peace and peace activists in his future). And, we’re, well, y’know…. OLD, (probably older than his parents -- which may be why he appreciates us). To Joey, we’re old peace activists – he doesn’t know any young peace activists -- and he digs us. And we dig him. Just think, in Rummy’s world, and Dick’s world, and king george’s world, Joey is the perfect candidate for war and killing and being killed.

Let me say something about Jane. She’s part of what makes the system down here work and she works hard at it. Since Cindy is recuperating at a local hotel there is a core group of folks who keep things going. Jane is one of that group. She shops for food too. And when she shops local folks often ask her why she buying so much food.

She responds, ”Well, first let me say that I respect your views and opinions and your right to hold them. I hope you can respect my right to hold my views. [Pause] I’m a peace activist and buying food for our community.”

At this point, the conversation might end or it might end up in Jane handing out one GI Rights Hotline accordion card and a continuing conversation.

Tonight, when we were enjoying Joey and our pizza, Jane stepped outside for a cigarette. Then she came back inside and asked for a few more accordion cards. She was sharing the air and the smoking space (at papa Rollos’ Pizza this includes a porch upon which is parked the back end of a VW bug with seat intact and ready for an experimental butt to try out) with a GI who said he wanted a couple of cards…one for himself and one each for his three friends.

I tell you, Texas GIs are getting educated in their rights…and it is a good thing to see. Today (Friday) we go back to Killen and the entrance to the base to Inform, Educate, and Support GIs.” (Last week a similar action took place at the entrance of Ft. Hood.) My next post describes our work outside the camp yesterday at 5p.

Camp Casey - 06 - Day 1 (Aug 24)

Back at the ranch...
Actually, back at the Peace House, Crawford. Carlos helped me pitch my tent (at 1:00pm today the temp was 106 degrees) and I helped him with his. Then while he continued tweaking his space so that he could put up pix of his son, Alex, and his campaign against the war, I headed back to air conditioned Peace House to use the wireless internet connection (yes, wireless! who'd a'thunk?)

Today, a bunch of folks traveled down to Austin to work the Border Governor's Meeting - our own Governator Arnie -- is there. I'll let you know tomorrow how that went.

Camp Casey, meanwhile, is baking in very hot, still air. The drought out here is bad. Even the waterfall and lovely pond that many of us -- and the water moccasins -- cooled off in last year has dried up. (Having grown up in South Africa I'm familiar with droughts. And I say as soon as GW is outta here the drought will break... by outta here, I'm thinking Big Picture... not just outta Crawford but outta the White House, outta our lives. So let's get out the vote! Hell, why stop there? Let's get ye olde guard out of Congress and get a bunch of new folks in. Maybe the drought on commonsense, empathy, and spiritual generosity will end too and the people of the world can begin cooperating and healing.)

My fellow tent-erector and travel companion from DFW is Carlos Arredondo. His son, Alex, was killed in Najaf. In grief and rage, Carlos reacted by smashing up the vehicle of the 3 Marines who brought the news. Then he set the vehicle alight...and burned himself too. Carlos' burns have healed well. But his heavy heart pushes him to speak out around the country.

He says, "I travel in my truck with a flag-draped coffin on the back. And I speak wherever I can. I've given up my former life -- or, it gave me up when Alex died -- and this is my new life. What else can I do? I've lost my hope for a future with my sons. My other son is struggling too after Alex's death."

The theme that threads through the lives of people visiting here is a passionate desire for another way of living, another way of viewing the world, another way that doesn't depend on weaponry, death, and "power over." I'm here for the same thing along with the passion to end the horror before more of our kids (by "our" I mean, Iraqi, Afghan, Lebanese, Palestinian, Israeli - yes, there are many Israelies struggling for peace (just not enough yet!) ... African...). And before my own son is re-deployed. But that's another post for another day.

All in all, the group here is smaller this year, much smaller. But the same fellowship, the same spirit, the same sense of togetherness prevails. Amazing and you'd hardly know it if you, for example, work in the corporate world but peaceful people are scattered thoughout the country and show up when they're needed. We do, however, have to find a way to encourage more of those folks to get out and make themselves heard. And, that's another post, too.

And there will be another post tomorrow. Meanwhile, check out the article and video from local paper: http://www.dfw.com/mld/dfw/news/15313444.htm.

Think it doesn't happen here? Think again!

I read that “On August 3, Russian conscript Ivan Shinkaryov flipped the safety catch on his rifle and shot himself dead. It was sad but unremarkable: In Russia at least 1,000 conscripts die each year in non-combat incidents.”…. And, “In the past eight years, 17 of the recruits in Shinkaryov's Interior Ministry Troops unit no. 3377 have died. Most committed suicide, the rest were killed by fellow conscripts or died in firearms accidents and from beatings.

Accounts of life inside unit no. 3377 tell of bullying by older recruits -- a ritual known as "dedovshchina" -- sordid living conditions, psychologically disturbed conscripts and officers powerless to help. (see full article at: http://www.commondreams.org/headlines06/0822-02.htm)

(My first thought on reading this opening: Wow! Is the author of this article really as cold as he sounds about other peoples’ pain? As a mother of a soldier, I can barely touch the edges of the hard knot of pain I experience with my kid exposed to horror and death in the so-called Global War on Terror … I can’t even get near the experience of how it would be to know – belatedly – that my kid had been carrying so much pain that the only way he could think to stop it was to kill himself.)

In 2004 I interviewed Natalia Zhukova, the head of the Soldiers’ Mothers Committee of Nizhnii Novgorod and a leading activist in a decade-long battle against rampant and brutal hazing in Russia’s armed forces.

At that time, Natalia had just received recognition from Human Rights Watch. They write “honoring Ms. Zhukova sends a signal that individuals can make a difference in fighting for basic human rights. In the Russian military, every year hundreds of thousands of new recruits face grossly abusive treatment at the hands of more senior conscripts. As a result, dozens die annually, and thousands sustain serious — and often permanent — damage to their physical and mental health. Hundreds commit or attempt suicide and thousands run away from their units. While the government stands by as hazing takes its toll, a powerful network of soldiers’ mothers’ groups has emerged throughout Russia that works tirelessly to end the abuses.

“Natalia Zhukova and her colleagues have heroically taken on the powerful Russian armed forces over their abysmal human rights record. … And they manage to save countless young Russian men from violence and possible death everyday.”

What excites me about Natalia’s stand, and that of thousands of mothers throughout Russia, is their unswerving dedication to their own sons and the sons of other mothers. These women have learned that only by standing together can they succeed – and succeed they have – in saving many of their children from the Russian military system. These women actually go onto the Russian military bases, stare down the officers, and retrieve their kids.

Yes, Russia has a conscript army. Yes, it is different over here in the U.S. where we have a so-called “volunteer” military. (In reality, however, this is “volunteer” for those who know their rights – or find them out in time to retract the volunteerism that could get them killed.) But, suicide amongst American military is not uncommon. Oh, how many times on a GI Rights Hotline call have I said, “Private (or Sergeant or other title), you just told me you are thinking of killing yourself. I need you to promise me that you will not do that. I need you to promise me that, if you get to the point of wanting to act on those thoughts, you will call the suicide prevention line – 1- 800- suicide.” The relief that I hear in their voices when they say, “I promise” can make a stone cry. Sound farfetched? It is not. Some of our kids are suffering in the military.

And we mothers must do more to relieve this suffering. It is not just for our own kids. It is for our community and our culture and the communities and cultures we affect. Let’s think deep and hard about who we want to be as people. And then act to end the pain.

How Low Can you Go?

As if there isn't enough dismal news coming out of the military these days about how it treats our kids...from the moment they have the ill luck to fall into the clutches of recruiters until they are stop-lossed at the end of their contracts-- today's news plummets to an even lower low.

From Associated Press (and reported on Democracy Now! - www.democracynow.org - August 21 '06) comes the news that:

80 Military Recruiters Disciplined for Sexual Misconduct
The Associated Press has revealed that more than 80 military recruiters have been disciplined over the past year for sexual misconduct. According to AP, military recruiters have preyed upon more then 100 young women who expressed interest in joining the military. Women were raped on recruiting office couches, assaulted in government cars and groped en route to entrance exams. One 18-year-old victim said "This should never be allowed to happen. The recruiter had all the power. He had the uniform. He had my future. I trusted him." The victims have typically been between 16 and 18 years old. They usually met the recruiters at their high schools and the sexual misconduct almost always takes place in recruiting stations, recruiters' apartments or government vehicles/

As a counsellor on the GI Rights Hotline (a free service at 1-800-394-9544) I'm privvy to many - too many - heartbreaking stories from our troops at the hands of recruiters. Actually, not only from recruiters but also from NCOs and CO, even some chaplins.

What we appear to have is a system that takes our idealistic, naive, good hearted kids and forces them through a system that is bound to break 'em and crush their spirits. On top of that, now we discover that, oh, if recruiters feel like it, they can molest and rape our daughters -- and sons it seems -- on the way to or from the ordeal that is the current military.
Spc. Suzanne Swift is currently in the brig for going AWOL after multiple sexual indignities from her NCOs and up the line to COs who failed to protect her. Check it out: http://www.suzanneswift.org/