Editor’s
Note:
Today is an extremely sad day for me personally. The
author of today’s issue is reporting to federal prison
today for peacefully protesting against the war. I met
Kathy Kelly when she was on her way to the West Bank.
She told me a group of non-violent peace protesters
planned on “doing what they could” to stop the Israeli
war machine. She planned, and then in fact did, put
herself literally between Israeli tanks and unarmed
Palestinian villagers.
She has been in Iraq many times. Before reporting to
federal prison, she wrote this moving essay, not about
her plight- but about the notion of “pacification.” To
be around her, this frail, fifty-something woman lives
the principles she espouses. Whether you agree wither or
not, this is an amazing woman.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Pacification: Worth the Price? -by Kathy Kelly
Reprinted from, Voices in the Wilderness
Six years ago, in February 1998, I traveled to Iraq with
a British Voices in the Wilderness team. The US was
threatening another massive bombardment. We decided to
go to Fallujah in hopes of better understanding the
perspective of people whose marketplace had been bombed,
in 1991, by a smart bomb that went astray. The blast
instantly killed 150 people and wounded hundreds. By the
time of our visit, many more had suffered and died
during nearly eight years of brutally punitive economic
sanctions.
At Fallujah's main market, we began distributing a
leaflet about why we were violating the economic
sanctions. Throngs of people pressed toward each of us,
eager for leaflets. Separated from my companions and
surrounded by people shouting at me as they grabbed
leaflets, I began to wonder if this could turn into an
ugly scene. One man who spoke English stood in front of
me, his eyes blazing. "You Americans! You Europeans!" he
shouted. "You come to my home. I show you water you not
even give your animals to drink and this is all what we
have. And now you want again to kill our children. You
cannot kill my son. My son, he was killed in al-harb
Bush (the first Bush war)."
"I'm sorry," I murmured, "I'm so very sorry." Then his
demeanor suddenly changed. "Ah, Madame," he said, his
tone softening, "You are too tired. You come with me, I
get you tea." He helped me maneuver through the crowd
until we reached a falafel stand where he served me tea,
insisting that I find my friends and bring them to his
home for a meal. Since 1996, gracious hospitality
characterized nearly every encounter I and other Voices
travelers to Iraq experienced.
In 1999, I returned to the Fallujah marketplace, this
time with our friend Ahmed, a US citizen, born in the
Sinai, who translated for us as we encountered a very
similar scene. I spotted a child staring at me. He
seemed about 11 years of age, quite poor, extremely
intense.
"Ahmed, please," I asked, "ask this young man what he is
thinking."
The young boy squared his shoulders and said, "I am a
scholar of the faith." Ahmed posed my question again.
This time the answer was direct. "Tell her that I am
thinking about how I will become a fighter pilot when I
grow up," said the boy, whose gaze never swerved from
mine, "so that I can bomb the United States." Then Ahmed
said, "Kathy, look, pay attention to this man," pointing
to an elderly, balding fellow with huge jowls and white
whiskers who had observed my encounter with the
youngster. Large tears rolled down his cheeks.
Peacemaking communities throughout the world have
refused to regard Iraqi brothers and sisters as enemies.
But during an election season when adult discourse about
crucial issues is often put on hold, empathy with people
in Fallujah won't score points amongst public relations
strategists.
For the past several days, I've been asking friends to
help me understand the term "pacify." No explanation
seemed satisfactory until one friend bluntly said,
"Look, it means you want to win the peace. So you
eliminate anyone who might disturb your peace. You
suppress them, or terrify them, or remove them, or kill
them."
"Just like what Saddam Hussein did?" I murmured.
"Right," my friend said.
Coalition Authorities were determined to pacify Fallujah
before the grisly lynching that took place on Wednesday,
March 31. A total of eight Marines had been killed in
two weeks of violence that Brigadier General Mark
Kimmitt blamed on Fallujah insurgents.
On March 28, 2004, the Philadelphia Inquirer said that
Iraqis in Fallujah found leaflets scattered throughout
the city bearing an ominous message which the Iraqis
believed was left by the Marines.
"You can't escape and you can't hide . . . the coalition
will find you and bring you to justice," said the Arabic
message printed over two steely green eyes. ("Marines
Push Against Rebelling Iraqis,"
Carol Rosenberg)
Describing events that took place on Tuesday, March 30,
the Washington Post reported:
"Marines used tanks and armored fighting vehicles to
block the main exits and entrances to Fallujah for the
fourth day running . . . The deployment forced thousands
of motorists off the main roads and onto bumpy dirt
tracks where traffic moved slowly under the watchful
eyes of soldiers crouching in the sand behind their guns
or atop military vehicles . . . Tanks trained their guns
on the al-Askari district.
Residents also said marines rolled through the
neighborhood and shouted warnings in Arabic through a
bullhorn against harboring insurgents . . . Several
families heeded the warning and left, according to
residents who stayed behind."
The Marines also reportedly staged door-to-door house
raids in search of weapons and suspected insurgents on
Monday night and again on Tuesday.
"If they find more than one adult male in any house,
they arrest one of them," claimed resident Khaled
Jamaili, 26. "Those Marines are destroying us. They are
leaning very hard on Fallujah." ("Marines Seek to Pacify
Fallujah," Hamza Hendawi, March 31)
I was in the Jenin refugee camp of the West Bank in
April 2002, during the immediate aftermath of the IDF
operation "Enduring Storm."
I walked through the remains of 100 three-story
buildings that had been destroyed. I watched as young
boys with faces as somber as old men helped their
fathers carry corpses pulled from the rubble, while IDF
snipers positioned on roofs shot over their heads. More
pacification? I don't know.
Afterward I talked with Israeli soldiers. One young
soldier said "I was only doing my job." Another said, "I
was just following orders."
Then I glanced at an older Israeli soldier and we both
winced. We'd heard these words before.
Pacification methods did not work in the occupied West
Bank nor are they likely to work in Afghanistan or in
Iraq. We need new methods.
And our compassion for people in Iraq also needs to
encompass non-Iraqis, including Americans, many of them
young, tense, and homesick. On April 15 many of my
friends will be in Federal building plazas carrying
signs about war tax refusal. Karl Meyer's sign will say
"I haven't paid taxes in 44 years. Ask me how. Ask me
why."
My sign, were I at liberty to carry it in the federal
prison, would say, "I haven't paid taxes for 25 years.
Ask me how. Ask me why."
Pacification doesn't work, nor does a $400 billion
dollar defense budget that steals prosperity. All of us
have the opportunity to make adult choices to protect
all the world's children. Ask us how.
Ask us why.
|