January 31, 2010
Judge Richard H. Ringell
DC Superior Court
500 Indiana Ave. NW
Washington, DC 20001
Dear Judge Ringell,
I was one of the 13 co-defendants who were arrested in a peaceful, nonviolent protest at the White House who arrived in your courtroom on Wednesday, January 27 in the late afternoon. (Case # 2010 CDC 001810). We were told by one of the guards in the jail as we were being brought upstairs that “the judge is going to be mad that these ‘failure to obey’ cases are coming before the other traffic cases.”
Little did I know that you would take out your anger over nonviolent defendants. I have been a defendant numerous times – all for nonviolent protest arrests – and never have I witnessed such rudeness, contempt, and a sense of dismissal from the bench than what I experienced last week. I’m not sure that was your intent but that is how it was received by several of my co-defendants and me.
We were unable to consult with Ann Wilcox, our preferred counsel since she was on jury duty that week so when we shuffled into your courtroom (the leg irons, waist chains attached to handcuffs were totally inappropriate for nonviolent offenders), we were told a man we had never seen or met before was “defense counsel”. Without consulting with us, he entered a “not guilty” plea on our behalf, thwarting my initial plan to plead “nolo contendre”. Of course that was all moot when we discovered new additional charges of “unlawful assembly” and “disorderly conduct” were piled on. Besides the absurdity of those charges, (we clearly informed the Park Police and the Secret Service officers present at least 1 hour before our “die-in” protest of our intent and we were anything but disorderly), I felt I was rushed into a decision after I asked to consult counsel. Your threat to put me at the “end of the line” and wait until all the traffic cases were heard (more than 20-30 other cases given the number of men in our holding pen downstairs) meant spending another night in the jail since it was already after 4 PM. Not having any food other than 4 white bread “sandwiches” in the 28 hours we were incarcerated, there was no guarantee I’d be fed again before coming back to your court.
I understand and sympathize if your bruskness was due to short-staffing and an overwhelming workload but you are the one in power in that setting, not those you victimize with a travesty of one’s “day in court”. (It is ironic that if our protests against war spending were successful, you might have an adequate budget for your courts and jails.) Given that our intent on the day of our arrest was to assert our First Amendment rights to “peaceably assemble for a redress of grievance”, the entire process since our initial booking until facing you was an insult to principled dissent. As a Judge, you have it within your authority to dismiss these cases with a “time served” sentence but you instead allowed the Prosecutor to further insult 3 co-defendants by not even allowing them to post the forfeiture bond because of prior arrests for similar nonviolent protest in the District. Since I had two prior arrests at the White House and the Capitol Rotunda, I should have also been included in that group.
It pains me that if elderly, white, educated defendants like those in our group are treated so disrespectfully, I can only imagine the psychic damage inflicted on the poor and marginalized defendants caught up in that “Justice” [sic] system you are presiding over. Please forgive me if this seems to you to be a personal attack on you – it is rather my desire to expose what I feel is part of a bureaucracy determined to allow systemic injustice to proceed unabated.
Sincerely,
Stephen D. Clemens
2912 E. 24th St.
Minneapolis, MN 55406-1322
steveclemens@gmail.com
Adventure at the White House
Arrested at Obama's White House by Steve Clemens. January 28, 2010
We sat in a holding pen in our 4th jail since arrest at the White House the day before. As we awaited to go to court, I wondered aloud to Joe Palen, a Pax Christi Twin Cities Area board member and one of my fellow arrestees, whether we would need time to decompress from the psychic trauma we incurred by seeing the dehumanization of the fellow humans being processed and prodded alongside us in these warrens of Washington, DC, places that are usually excluded from the routine tourist sites of the nation’s capital. Did what we witnessed contribute to a kind of PTSD? Can the cumulative effect traumatize you even if the oppressive actions occur to others in your presence rather than directly to yourself? It seems especially cruel that most of the dehumanizing and over-zealous oppression we witnessed victimized people of color by their fellow African-American police officers and guards.
Admittedly, it was hard for me to distinguish between Secret Service, Park Police, DC Metro Police, US Marshalls, and Corrections Officers as we proceeded through the gauntlet precipitated by our arrest. So maybe it is best to start at the beginning.
My friend Kathy Kelly and her fellow co-coordinators at Voices for Creative Nonviolence (VCNV) shared their vision for a Peaceable Assembly Campaign with some of us in Minnesota last fall. They hoped to see groups of concerned citizens traveling to the nation's capital to call for an end to the wars and military occupations in Afghanistan and Iraq to coincide with the first anniversary of Obama's presidency, his State of the Union speech, and the unveiling of his proposed budget for fiscal year 2011 during the end of January.
A group of close to 25 Minnesotans decided to answer the call and scheduled a morning of vigil and demonstration in front of the White House on Tuesday, January 26th followed by visits to our Members of Congress and Senators. Although a lot of planning occurred back in Minnesota, the group hoped to fine-tune what the presence at the White House would include and how it would unfold with members of VCNV and others from around the nation who would be joining us that Tuesday. Unfortunately the logistics of getting everyone together for this last minute planning was made more difficult by the late arrival in Washington of some of the group.
We planned to symbolically "throw shoes at the occupation" in honor of the courageous Iraqi journalist who hurled his shoes at President Bush in Baghdad several years ago. Close to a dozen pairs of shoes had messages inscribed on the sides, bottoms, and insides of the shoes with bright-colored paint. A few of the shoes had been mailed to President Obama and although many of us are angry at the President for his continuation of these wars and occupation, we wanted this action in front of the White House to avoid threatening already nervous Secret Service agents by not "accidentally" hurling some of the shoes over the fence into the President's yard. Instead, we folded the large "End the Occupation Now!" banner so just the word "Occupation" was visible as the target for our messages on the shoes. Although the banner was in the middle of the street, the direction toward which our shoes were thrown was also toward the residence and office of the Commander-in-Chief.
The group also decided to remember the lives of Minnesotan soldiers killed in these wars by reading the names, age and hometown of soldiers and National Guard members who have fallen in Afghanistan and Iraq since the wars began in 2001. A Veterans for Peace member, Bill Habedank, brought the symbolic tombstones with those names inscribed which had previously been carried to the Republican National Convention in St. Paul a year and one-half ago. Opposition to war is not a partisan political affair but an overriding moral and practical necessity. We decided to ring a bell after the reading of each name as we together intoned, "We remember".
The more difficult task was deciding the timing of the civil disobedience action component for the morning. At least eight people had expressed the willingness to risk arrest by staging a "die-in" on the sidewalk immediately in front of the northern side of the White House. Ever since 2001, Secret Service and the Park Police have designated a 20 yard area there as a "no protest zone" where folks who remained stationary in that area were subject to arrest. Should we wait until the end of our vigil to do this or incorporate it as part of the reading the names of the dead? We decided to let a couple of the group organizers decide when it would occur so we could get down to the White House for our planned 10:30 AM start time for the vigil.
Soon after some of us arrived at the north side of the White House fence, we were approached by law enforcement personnel who asked who was "in charge". Because we had no official spokesperson, I volunteered to talk with the cops. It turned out they were Secret Service officers and I described what we intended to do, including the shoe throwing and the civil disobedience. They called in their commanding officer who wanted clarity on the shoe throwing plans. He was satisfied that we were not intending on throwing anything over the White House fence when I described the how and where of our scenario. We were told that the US Park Police would be involved in the arrest for any civil disobedience taking place on the sidewalk area. I was treated with respect and we shook hands and told them we would keep them informed as we proceeded. Our commitment to nonviolence also included an openness for what we planned to do so the officers would not be surprised.
Our group standing in the street in front of the White House grew to about 45 people as others from the VCNV Peaceable Assembly Campaign joined us. Most of the Minnesotans wore tee shirts with "Minnesotans for Peace" on the back and red handprints on the front as a reminder of the bloody results of war. There was a "Bring Them Home" banner to go along with the "End the Occupation Now" one. After vigiling for a time with signs reading "Healthcare Not Warfare", "End the US War in Pakistan", "End War Spending", and similar messages, the group lined up and began reading the names of the Minnesotans killed in the wars. We followed by the shoe throwing providing a good visual for the media who had arrived. It was suggested that we do the die-in action while the media was still engaged so around noon those risking arrest would begin to lay down on the sidewalk within the "no demonstration permitted" zone.
Marie Braun, one of our group's primary organizers, and I informed the Secret Service that we would be commencing the "die-in" action shortly. They asked us to talk directly to the Park Police and one of them asked me "How many want to get arrested?" I explained that we were not "wanting" to get arrested but we did plan on "risking arrest" by carrying our symbolic action as close to the White House as we could get without climbing the fence, knowing that arrest was very likely. (It is always best to remember that law enforcement also has a "choice" in what laws and how they are enforced.)
The Park Police commander joined the conversation and tried to discourage us from getting arrested. He told us the DC jail was a "bad place" - filled with murderers, rapists, and the like. "You can lay down on the sidewalk and we'll give you three warnings before you are arrested. You can leave at any time before that third warning and make your point. But if you do stay, you will be arrested." He told us that after the arrest you would be taken to the Anacostia Station to be processed and you probably will be released if you paid a $100 forfeitable bond. But there is no guarantee you'll get that. You might just get a citation with a future court date or they might lock you up overnight and see a judge the next morning. He told us he thought it was a 50/50 chance either way. He told us many groups make a pre-arrest "deal" with authorities before such an arrest to "negotiate" the terms of release. That is not the style of Voices or other, smaller grass-roots organizations.
The weather was in the 40s with a steady wind so when I laid on the sidewalk it was rather cold. Fortunately I had on my winter coat! As fellow protesters walked around us singing and reading, twelve others quickly joined me, including Father Bill Pickard from Scranton, PA who first "anointed the 'dead' with oil in the sign of the cross" on our foreheads before lying down himself. As the police read out the first and second warnings, all the others got behind the yellow tape "police line" barriers that were quickly unfurled. It was about 20-30 minutes before the arrests began and many of us were glad to be getting on our feet and handcuffed. We were cold and stiff.
Only one of us was younger than fifty with the majority of arrestees in their 60s and 70s with at least John Braun over 80. After our photo IDs were taken and we were photographed, we were stuffed 6 to a side in the police van with the 13th arrestee driven separately to the Anacostia Station. We were packed in like sardines into the narrow confines but most of us were still on an emotional high from the power of the witness and the encouragement of our friends.
After arriving at what was to become only our first stop, the police asked who in the group planned to "pay their way out" and did anyone else "want to be locked up?" Nine of the 13 stated they definitely wished to pay the $100 and be released. Three others of us said we were choosing not to pay. One was undecided at that point. Those who were going to "forfeit" were going to be processed first so they could be released. After the first of many, many "delays", we were all brought in to the same holding area and told by another officer of higher rank, "I have some 'good news' for you." He meant it to be ironic as his news was that the "pre-trial office downtown" would not allow anyone to pay and go. "All of you will spend the night in jail and see a judge in the morning." That was certainly a shock to some but everyone seemed to take the news in stride even if they weren't happy about it.
Soon after as we entered our first booking area we lost all sense of time since our watches and phones were placed in our "property bags" along with our shoelaces, belts, jewelry, pens, paper, books, ... - everything we carried with us. The one exception was the nitroglycerin pills carried by one of us for heart problems in the past. All our cash was placed in a separate bag. We had all pockets searched and were "patted down" and separated male and female into different holding pens. We were told we would be allowed to keep our jackets because we would likely be at a different facility after we were released and "it is cold out there and you won't have your property with you. You will have to come back here to pick it up."
After getting our thumbprints recorded on little cards and a small blue wristband which was numbered, we were eventually transferred to what we were told (after we asked) to the First District in SW Washington. We were also transferred from the Park Police custody to that of the DC Metropolitan Police. We are re-handcuffed for each trip, sometimes in front, sometimes behind but each time packed into a narrow van that is hard to maneuver into when you are my size or taller. At each stop we wait in the van (and in the cold) for a long period (once about 30 minutes, another longer than 45 minutes) before being allowed out and marched into the next jail or detention center. The handcuffs dig into your wrists and Joe Palen's carpal tunnel caused him quite a lot of pain and discomfort. Especially when we are handcuffed from behind and then have to get into and out of the van is very difficult, especially at our ages. It is getting dark outside as we arrive at our second jail so we guess that it is about 5:30 or 6 PM. Our arrests were completed about 12:30 - before we began this journey into several layers of Dante's inferno.
I don't remember much about stop #2 except that we get nothing to eat or drink other than the "faucet" on the back of our holding cell's stainless steel toilet/sink combo. We are "patted down" once again and placed in a holding area with not enough concrete seats or benches so some must sit on the concrete floor, maybe with a cinder block wall to lean on if the room is not too full. Men are called in and out, occasionally reporting to us what time it is if an officer tells them or they see a clock. What does stick in my mind is the stories you hear from the others as they are caged with us. The Latino man born in El Salvador who is locked up for driving with an expired license - even though in court last week he was told it had been reinstated after paying his speeding violation. I guess the paperwork hadn't filtered down to the cop who stopped him for a tail light violation. Normally you can just pay a fine - but not for him, even though his residency papers are in order. He was born two years after Romero's assassination but doesn't know much about him. We suggest he rent the movie about his life.
Two other African-American men tell us they got arrested by "bicycle cops" for drinking in public. They were sitting on the lawn in front of a friend's apartment when the officers rode by. They spotted a plastic cup of beer and asked whose it was. One man said it was his. The other had an empty cup in his pocket but both were arrested! They tell us such an offense is usually a $30. fine and they have the money to pay it but are hauled to jail instead. A rare white man comes in and tells us he got busted for selling prescription drugs through the mail. People come and go and we just guess at the time. Still no food. The clock on the wall reads 11:30 PM as we are cuffed again for our next destination.
We are told we are going to "C block" to be properly booked. Into the van again and this time the wait seems forever after we arrive at jail #3. We are jammed into this van; some are about to panic from claustrophobia, others need to pee, all of us need to stretch. The officer transporting us keeps the cage inside the open back door locked so we are cold and uncomfortable. But he "can't do nothin'" when we ask if we can get out. "Not until they are ready for you inside, you can't". It is the typical Nuremberg defense: "I'm only following orders". The seeming level of incompetence appears stunning. In an age of telephones and computers one would think these transfers could be coordinated better so there is not so much waiting in our sardine-can transport. But maybe it is not an accident but rather part of the pre-conviction punishment. There is nothing remotely humane about the way most of the guards treat us. But at least up to this point they haven't appeared to be verbally or physically abusive (at least in our presence). That will change at stop #4.
I am fortunate to be one of the first of two from our van to get out and begin processing. I don't know how long the others remain in the van, as I don't see them for a while. Two of us are photographed and fingerprinted and receive a second blue wristband, this time with our name, birth date, and color mug-shot photograph. On the way to my cell, an officer asks if I want a drink and a sandwich. The clock where I was fingerprinted read 1:30 AM so it had been 18 hours since I'd eaten and the two "sandwiches" and the Styrofoam cup of red "fruit drink" were gratefully received. I couldn't take the cup to my cell but could carry the sandwiches after I removed them from the zip-locked baggie.
As I walk down the cell-block, I hear someone say, "Hey, Steve. Good to see you!" The guard keeps me walking, pointing to the door to cell #17 which he unlocks. Low and behold, the cell door opens and Ward Brennan is lying on the bunk! Even though he is 77, he graciously offers me the lower bunk and tries to get into the upper one. He manages with some effort. (Later a guard helpfully tells him to stand on the stainless toilet then the sink part to complete this maneuver.) Joe Palen and Father Bill are in the cell next to ours. We don't know where Ceylon is because he is able to fall asleep in any of the places we visited and doesn't hear us calling his name. No one knows the whereabouts of John Braun, as he was not transported with us. We are all concerned about him and I say a quiet prayer for him and his well-being. I'm not sure I want to be caged up like this when I'm 81!
I ask Ward if he got any sandwiches or drink. He had not so I offered him one of mine. He told me he can't eat cheese so I offered the one that had two thin slices of bologna between two pieces of white "sponge" bread. We laugh about the claims that it is "enriched"! My remaining cheese sandwich is one slice of processed cheese food. I tell Ward that he probably could eat it- I doubt if there is any "real" cheese in it. After a short while, the officer comes to take Ward to the processing area and he tells me it is 2:20 AM when he returns. He got his drink of the "red fruit juice" and tells me it was "good" to have even though "the closest that drink got to fruit was if someone drove it past some on the way to the market."
Ward has a great sense of humor which if often on display when he is part of our AlliantACTION Circle vigil on Wednesday mornings back in the Twin Cities. We are both exhausted trying to sleep on a stainless bunk with no mattress -but with a 1 1/2 inch raised edge on the 3 sides away from the wall that adds to the discomfort whether one is sitting or trying to lay down. There are no pillows but at least we can try to use our jackets as a modified cushion. Ward has to use the sleeve of his jacket to block the light that is constantly on at the end of his upper bunk. He was wise enough to grab a couple paper towel/napkins when he got his sandwiches. I wasn't offered any but he shares his with me because none of the toilets we've seen so far have any toilet paper. He gives me his "cheese" sandwich and eats the bologna one so we've each had two. The white sponge "bread" feels like a lump in my stomach - but it is at least a semblance of food.
The tiny 5' x 7' stainless-walled cell is hot. The water coming from the inadequate faucet first spits out a short stream about 2 feet to get your face or the toilet wet and then quickly turns to a lukewarm trickle. At least it is wet and I'm able to stay hydrated. I take off my shirt to alleviate the heat and try to lay on my side with my jacket as a "pillow". Every time I turn over because my back is aching, the stainless slab makes a loud buckling noise that is heard up and down the cell-block. It startles me the first few times before I get used to it. I'm sure it keeps Ward awake - that, and the fact that every 15-20 minutes another inmate is yelling for the "CO", a corrections officer or guard that patrols the two cell blocks in our section.
Other inmates told us this jail is underground so there is no chance of seeing any daylight to give us an idea of the time. We both sleep fitfully for maybe 10-20 minute stretches and then sit up and chat. Ward jokes that this "hotel" doesn't have good accommodations but is "well-lit" and has "firm beds". I remarked that the sign outside probably read “Vagrancy”, not “Vacancy”! Then I remind him that he had already paid for his bed and breakfast for this night so "they better hold the breakfast for him after he is released." Little do we know that it won't be for another 8-12 hours.
At sometime in the morning an officer comes down the hall yelling for us to get ready to grab our breakfast. He comes by with a Styrofoam cup that is later filled with a white slush from a gallon jug labeled "Lemonade Flavored Drink". It is cold which helps us feel better about the fact that that drink wouldn't know what a lemon was if it passed it on the street - or so Ward imagined. We also got our requisite two sandwiches, same as our midnight snack hours before. We trade with each other but forgo the "generous offer" from Joe and Fr. Bill if either of us wants one of theirs. Ward only eats one of his. I combine the two pieces of "cheese" into one sandwich, not wanting another lump of sponge bread in my gut. I have no way of knowing that is the last food I'll get before being released after my court appearance at 4 PM.
Meanwhile we wait, hoping they'll come and get us to take us to court in the morning. Ward tells me this is his first overnight jail experience which he doesn't hope to repeat. But he adds that so far it has been a good, if difficult, learning experience. I tell him my strong conviction that every judge, prosecutor, police officer, and guard should have to undergo (incognito) a trip like we are experiencing before sending others into this zoo. Ward continues to joke about the dreadful food asking me who "recommended this restaurant?" Then he adds, "And to think they gave me three times to leave and I didn't get up and walk on the other side of that police tape!" We both laugh at what many people would surmise is our "stupidity". I told him earlier how a previous inmate I met in Federal Prison in 2006 told me I was "stuck on stupid" after I told him I had been in jail before for "protesting" and I had done it again.
After we are once again herded into our sardine can for a short trip to jail #4 under the Courthouse, we discover that it is after 11:00 AM. Some of us still hope we can see the judge before the lunch break but after we are patted down once again as well as going through a seated and standing metal detector, we are shuffled in another holding pen for "traffic" offenses. There is a black T written on our wristbands. One of the first persons I see (a white man stands out in this jail!) is John Braun and we all inquire how he is doing. He is clear that he doesn't suspect he'll "do this again" but does seem in good spirits. Our caged area has about 30 others in it with only enough seats for 5 or 6. Fortunately one opens up and Joe, John, Ward, and I take turns sharing it.
If you walk to a corner of this cage, you can read a clock on the wall. It doesn't help to make the time go faster. At some point we are told that "traffic cases" will be held at 3 PM. Then we are told that we will be divided into two groups: those with traffic offenses and those with the "failure to obey a lawful order" charge, namely the 6 of us. Later we are told the traffic cases will go first and will start at 2 PM, then 2:30. When they come to get us, the officer mistakenly takes the six of us first but doesn't want to send us back after he is told of his mistake.
Meanwhile, it is during this 4 hour period that we witness the increasing verbal and hints of physical abuse heaped on "us" by the guards. Some have US Marshall outfits. Others read Metropolitan Police. Some say PSA, others have signs or symbols I know not of. A few "suits" walk by and they seem to be lawyers, probably Public Defenders. Two officers in particular are increasing abusive and brutal - obviously playing for a bigger audience. After one inmate mouths off about not getting anything to eat, he is loudly cursed out by one of these officers. When he continues to complain, he is grabbed out of our cage by this officer and two or three others and slammed up against the wall. After being cuffed, he is hustled down the hallway, out of our sight and hearing, most likely to be "tuned up" by macho cops who want to release their extra testosterone. We never see him again before we are called out for our court time.
Joe notices one guard who is clearly different and respectful in his treatment of all the inmates. He calls him over to ask his name and thanks him for treating all of us decently. He asks me to memorize the guard's name, "Samuel Newman", so he can write a letter of commendation to the Court when we are released.
When we are called out, we face the wall and are patted down again before being placed in leg irons, waist or belly chains, which are then attached to metal handcuffs. Up to this time we've only had hard plastic "flexicuffs". I don't have a strong preference for either and I always try to tell the officer I have carpal tunnel before they ratchet them down on my wrists. For the most part I fare better than Joe has as far as tightness of the cuffs cutting off circulation. Does anyone seriously think we'll try to escape after refusing to leave after three warnings before arrest? It appears everyone gets this treatment – even those with minor traffic violations. How demeaning!
Because the 9 of us from Minnesota were locked up for 28 hours, we missed the appointments we had made with our Member of Congress and our Senators. I told Ward that since we signed up for "Breakfast with Al", I was hoping Al Franken would deliver us a real breakfast in our cells. I told him how proud I was that our Congressman, Keith Ellison, had been arrested in the past year for civil disobedience in front of the Sudanese Embassy. He and other members of the Congressional Progressive Caucus arrested with him had paid a $100 forfeiture bond and were released right away. I really would like to see him tour the facilities we had experienced.
As we are about to be marched upstairs, we see our women co-defendants for the first time in at least 15 hours. They seem in good spirits and Marie beams when she spots her husband John in the cage with us. We ride up to the court level on separate elevators and then again are locked in separate holding cells making it difficult to hear one another.
After 28 straight hours in four different jails, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. We had been arrested the day before as part of a civil disobedience action against the wars in front of Obama's White House the day before his first State of the Union speech. I think all 13 of us who had been arrested had been traumatized by witnessing the continual crushing of the human spirit by the cruelly named "justice system."
So when I was led into the courtroom with leg irons, and a waist chain attached to the metal handcuffs, I looked like a hardened criminal facing murder or kidnapping charges. Was the overkill on the part of the Washington, DC Metro Police strategically designed to demoralize and denigrate the "criminals" caught in it's web or merely a bureaucracy gone amuck with no idea how to discriminate and apply sufficient restraints where needed?
Not having the time to strategize as a group nor having access to our volunteer attorney (who was on jury duty this week), we didn't know exactly what to expect when we faced the judge for our first appearance. We assumed we would have the charges read and then have an offer to "settle" the case by paying a forfeiture bond for $50 or $100 or say we want to be released on our own recognizance for a later court date/arraignment. It is possible that the charges could just be dismissed if I/we didn't pay the forfeiture with a "time served" sentence since we had already endured two days in the DC jails.
They called us into the courtroom in groups of five so the rest of us were kept in the dark as to what happened to those ahead or behind us. The 5 Minnesota women went in first and after about 20 minutes the guard then took four local women with traffic charges before calling my name along with two co-arrestee women from Massachusetts, Ceylon, a guy from Memphis, and Joe Palen.
Shuffling into the courtroom with our leg and hand shackles rattling about, we are able to see some of our friends in the back of the room. Our attorney is not in sight, just a man we've never met is introduced as "defense counsel". The Judge addresses all 5 of us stating that each of the previous five arrestees paid a forfeiture bond in exchange for having the charges dismissed. The city prosecutor was asking $150 in exchange for dropping the charges or we could go to trial on three charges: failure to obey a lawful order, unlawful assembly, and disorderly conduct! We certainly weren't disorderly at anytime during this whole ordeal so my tired, aching body and mind was swimming with this new information; it was hard to concentrate as the judge intoned from on high about the jail time and fines associated with each of those charges.
Then the prosecutor announced another bombshell: two of us would not qualify for release upon forfeiture but no reason was given. Immediately I assumed I was one of them - they probably had my prior arrest record even though I had not given my Social Security number during the booking procedure. But Joe had and it is likely that Lori Blanding had as well since they were the ones singled out as ineligible. When they asked "Why?” the prosecutor said it was due to their prior arrests in DC. I have two prior arrests here so this made no sense to me. They were told they had to return for trial since the appointed defense counsel had already entered "not guilty" pleas on our behalf without consulting with us first.
My initial plan was to enter a "Nolo Contendre" plea and ask for time served or community service - but that was before learning of the additional two charges. After that news, my first reaction was to ask Joe if he wanted me to come back and stand trial with him and Lori. He said he'd appreciate that. We tried to consult with the defense counsel but were told we'd have to consult with another lawyer for advice. The man who stepped forward was again someone unknown to us - and he was more interested in making sure I didn't get a conviction on my record by paying the fine than helping me figure out what was happening.
None of this was aided by Judge Richard Ringell who was bound and determined to rush this proceeding along. He made it very clear he was angry that these "out-of-towners" were taking up the court's time before he got to the traffic cases of local residents. So much for the notion of having one's "day in court". The judge was rushed and rude and insisted that I make the decision then and there or he'd send me back to the jail until the other 30+ local cases could be heard. Since it was after 4 PM already, that meant another night in that DC jail on a metal bunk with no mattress, pillow, or toothbrush and the requisite white bread "sandwiches" - if they were offered at all. Since that is all I had to eat for more than 30 hours, it was hard to clearly consider all the implications of which way to choose in response to the arrest and charges.
I was thinking: if I pled not guilty and returned for trial in May, it would cost at least $200 for a plane ticket and there was no guarantee the charges wouldn't be dropped the day of the trial after purchasing the ticket. Also, the environmental costs of another plane ride had to be considered. If I entered a nolo plea with the new charges and a clearly angry judge, there is no telling what I'd get. I wanted time to consult with my VCNV friends and others from our Minnesotans for Peace contingent but could not get the court's permission to do so. I asked if the government's offer of the fine in exchange of dropping the charges was available anytime prior to trial and was told it was "now or never".
The judge had also added another proviso at the prosecutor's request: until the case was resolved, we were banned from the entire area near the White House under threat of felony charges. If the fine was paid, the ban was lifted. If you go to trial, the ban remains in effect until a verdict. So, with a sense of regret, shame, and a sense of abandoning Joe, I chose the "easy way out" and agreed to the requested bribe. I was angry with both the prosecutor and the judge for their failure to see this case as one based on the principle of "peaceable assembly" guaranteed by the Bill of Rights. But then again, I have encountered very few judges or prosecutors in my illustrious criminal career who were so inclined.
Judge Ringell was the worst judge I've faced - and I've faced a few in my 43 years of peacemaking. He was not only rushed and rude but dismissive and contemptuous. Maybe he didn't mean to come off as such but that was the message I received. Remember the urban legend about your free phone call after you are arrested? We didn't see a phone or have an offered phone call during the entire time.
We wanted the focus of our action to be on the wars and occupation, not the quality of DC jails and "justice". But there is a connection. If our nation wasn't squandering billions, even trillions, on the so-called "war on terror", we wouldn't have to rob "the Commons" of the money and resources needed for our own quality of life. The courts, jails, and police wouldn't be strapped for time and funds; people desperate to survive would have a better shot at housing, food, and necessities if our nation's priorities weren't so skewed. Some turn to "crime" to survive and then are abused by the system determined to keep the poor "in their place."
As I walked out of the Courtroom, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Most of the others were quickly trying to arrange rides in a taxi back to Anacostia to get their property and money before it closed at 5 PM. Joe was going to try to catch his scheduled 7 PM flight and others were leaving early the next morning. I called my son Micah (who is on Congressman Ellison's staff) and asked him if he could drive me down to get my stuff before he went to work the next day. When I asked him I had been told we couldn't get our cash returned after 2 PM so I didn't want to make two trips. He said he was almost finished at work so I told him I'd walk over to his office from the Courthouse. I had no keys to get into his apartment, no money to take the bus, and I needed the fresh air and the physical walk to begin to decompress. (Of course I had no shoelaces either so the walking was slower than usual.)
I felt a sense of regret and betrayal as I walked. I continued to process the options in my mind, regretting my hasty decision based on cost and expediency to not join Joe, Lori, and Father Bill in a May trial. (After I was finished with my appearance, I discovered that Fr. Bill was also prevented by the Prosecutor from being offered the cash release deal.) I had a really good sense of solidarity with both Joe and Bill. Once I got my bearings and realized the walk was more than twice the distance I thought it was, I arrived near the Capitol to discover the myriad of cops preparing for the State of the Union speech that would happen in the next 4 hours. A tan Hummer drives by with gun ports by its doors and windows. What a metaphor for a society drunk on "security" which, in turn, makes everyone else insecure.
It was much easier getting into the Longworth House Office Building to go to the congressman's office this time: I had no possessions to trigger the metal detector but I wondered if the building guards would notice the two flexicuffs still around my ankles where the guards had attached the metal leg irons because my ankles were swollen. When they removed the shackles in the courtroom, they left the flexicuffs on each ankle. Fortunately I passed without incident and Micah handed me a knife to cut them off. Most of the office staff was present, waiting to say farewell to a colleague who was leaving and Kari Moe, Ellison's Chief of Staff, greeted me warmly. Other staff members smiled and said they were glad to see me released and I apologized for the way I looked and smelled.
I just wanted to sit down and rest and decompress. Keith came by, shook my hand and told me to tell him about my experience. As I started to talk to him and Kari, my voice broke and tears started to well up in my eyes. It was so good to be out - but what about all those others I met these past hours who continue to be ground up by this system? Who will advocate for them? Who will greet them as a "hero" when they are released? Why am I so fortunate to have a family and friends who support (or at least tolerate) my "crazy" choices? It's embarrassing to cry in your Congressman's office, blubbering about your ordeal and hoping he can help make a difference - not only opposing these wars but also giving leadership to stopping the war against the poor. I know he has already led or supported others in these battles and for that I'm grateful.
I walked the 6 or so blocks with Micah back to his apartment. He gave me a glass of cold apple juice - heavenly! Then he cooked us supper as I enjoyed a shower and clean clothes! Afterwards I sat down to write. It becomes a sort of therapy to re-tell the stories, to remember. I want to share my experience with others to help de-mystify an arrest witness so others might be willing to join in next time. This time was harder than most. Maybe it's because I'm almost 60. Maybe it’s the cumulative impact of years of this work.
There is no guarantee that if we stop funding war and the illusions of "defense" that our government would also care for those left behind -but, if we continue to see the Pentagon's budget as sacrosanct, there will not be any money left. Dr. King reminded us during the Vietnam War buildup: "A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death." Spiritual and psychic death is what we encountered in our tour of the DC jails. We continue to sow death and reap the whirlwind.
Peacemaking is difficult at times and comes with a cost. Of course, the real easy way would be to remain silent in the face of war - but that is not an option I can live with. It is not an option our world can live with.
Press Statement before Peaceable Assembly Campaign
Press Conference Remarks for Peaceable Assembly January 22, 2010 by Steve Clemens
In grade school I learned a basic tenet of our nation’s democracy is “consent of the governed”.
I am traveling to our nation’s capitol next week to make my position crystal clear to our President and my elected representative and Senators that I do not consent to our present wars and military occupations in either Afghanistan or Iraq. They must end and our nation’s soldiers and military mercenaries must be removed from those countries.
Dr. Martin Luther King – whom our nation praises but does not follow or listen to – said a year before he was killed, "A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death."
Our President is proposing a military budget for next year (FY2011) which exceeds $740 billion – not including lifetime costs for caring for wounded and disabled veterans, our obscene arsenal of nuclear weapons (which are hidden in the Dept. of Energy budget), our covert attempts to destabilize and overthrow other governments by the CIA and other clandestine and unaccountable groups, or servicing the national debt, much of which was incurred to fight wars on credit.
None of this has enhanced our security as a people or our standing in the world community. It has actually made us less secure as the poor are left to fight over the scraps from the table set for the powerful by our politicians.
It is time (again) for people of goodwill and conscience to say with their voices and bodies in front of the White House and US Capitol, “No. Not in my name. I do not consent”.
These replica tombstones we will carry have the names of Minnesotans who have been killed in these wars. I carried one of these same ones when I protested at the Republican National Convention in St. Paul in the Fall of 2008 when a Republican Administration ran the war. Now it is the Democrats. It is not a partisan issue, it is a moral one.
In grade school I learned a basic tenet of our nation’s democracy is “consent of the governed”.
I am traveling to our nation’s capitol next week to make my position crystal clear to our President and my elected representative and Senators that I do not consent to our present wars and military occupations in either Afghanistan or Iraq. They must end and our nation’s soldiers and military mercenaries must be removed from those countries.
Dr. Martin Luther King – whom our nation praises but does not follow or listen to – said a year before he was killed, "A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death."
Our President is proposing a military budget for next year (FY2011) which exceeds $740 billion – not including lifetime costs for caring for wounded and disabled veterans, our obscene arsenal of nuclear weapons (which are hidden in the Dept. of Energy budget), our covert attempts to destabilize and overthrow other governments by the CIA and other clandestine and unaccountable groups, or servicing the national debt, much of which was incurred to fight wars on credit.
None of this has enhanced our security as a people or our standing in the world community. It has actually made us less secure as the poor are left to fight over the scraps from the table set for the powerful by our politicians.
It is time (again) for people of goodwill and conscience to say with their voices and bodies in front of the White House and US Capitol, “No. Not in my name. I do not consent”.
These replica tombstones we will carry have the names of Minnesotans who have been killed in these wars. I carried one of these same ones when I protested at the Republican National Convention in St. Paul in the Fall of 2008 when a Republican Administration ran the war. Now it is the Democrats. It is not a partisan issue, it is a moral one.
A Judge and Civil Disobedience
Finally a Judge Who Supports Civil Disobedience by Steve Clemens. November 6, 2009
The style and affect of the two African-American Judges couldn’t be more pronounced: Dark-complexioned, gaunt, stern and decorous Edward Wilson in St. Paul is a stark contrast with the light-skinned, jovial, extroverted Judge Darryl Lowe in Omaha. I faced both Judges this fall for acts of nonviolent civil disobedience and left the Courtrooms in Ramsey County, MN and Douglas County, NE with vastly different impressions.
Granted, one Judge presided over a full-fledged jury trial for protest at the Republican National Convention while I encountered the latter after a 30-hour stay in the county jail in Omaha for an initial arraignment or bond appearance. Yet the results were diametrically opposed. Maybe it was due to fighting the charges in one case while being really to “roll over” on the other – but I think that wasn’t the only or primary reason. It was the way Judge Lowe’s face lit up and his whole attitude changed when he discovered this was a case of civil disobedience rather than four aging drunk men in front of him. But I’m getting ahead of the story.
I should start at the beginning of this witness for peace for me. Frank Cordaro and Jerry Ebner of the Des Moines and Omaha Catholic Worker communities respectively encouraged me to join them last summer for the annual nonviolent vigil outside Offutt Air Force Base just south of Omaha which surrounds the anniversaries of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. As we baked in the 100 degree heat this year, Frank asked me to return to Nebraska in November for what has also become an annual arms bazaar in downtown Omaha. He was trying to recruit some others to join him in some creative nonviolent action in public protest. He warned me ahead of time: you never know what the Judge you face will do - but evidence from the past is those who are from out-of-state who are arrested will most likely be thrown in jail overnight and should be brought before a Judge the next day. Given the results of last year, if you plead not guilty or no contest, you will likely be issued a fine plus court costs. If you refuse or cannot pay the fine, it will likely mean 4-5 days in jail.
So I packed my bag and drove the six-hour trip to Omaha in order to arrive for our nonviolence training and action planning session which was to take place at noon on November 3, the day before the planned civil disobedience. It appeared ahead of time that there were likely to be four of us who were willing to risk arrest, down from the eight from last year. In 2008, four of the eight were local activists and they received a citation at the police station and were released with a future court date; the other four out-of-state arrestees were transported to the Douglas County Jail and appeared before a Judge the following day. Two of those four pled guilty and received five days in jail when they told the Judge they would not pay the $250 fine and court costs for reasons of conscience. As Catholic Workers, they couldn’t stomach the idea of paying for the “privilege” of protest while their communities were inundated with the needs of the growing homeless and destitute populations in their cities.
The two other Catholic Workers chose to plead not guilty and remained in jail for a future trial. After two weeks, one of them was needed home at his community in Duluth so he changed his plea to guilty and was released with “time served”. The fourth protester remained in jail for 38 days before having his charges dismissed by the Judge at trial when the County Prosecutor failed to present compelling evidence of his guilt. But he had spent 38 days in jail! Lest you think that a waste of time, many Catholic Workers find “ministering” to those behind bars to be not that different than their work with those who have been marginalized by our society and who end up homeless on the city streets. One sometimes finds homeless people who opt for “three hots and a cot” by committing petty crimes and going to jail rather than face brutal conditions on the homeless streets in northern cities as the weather turns colder.
At the nonviolence training, I learned that the four of us who planned to risk arrest were to be joined by two other local people, both seasoned activists – one of whom was 91 years old, the indomitable Peg Gallagher. Because all the participants had participated in numerous peaceful civil disobedience actions in the past, we felt we could dispense the nonviolence training portion of the afternoon and go directly into planning the “action”. The plan agreed to by all was a symbolic “die-in” in front of the entrance to the convention center where the arms bazaar was held, the same place where legal vigils had taken place over the past two days. A lawyer with no criminal trial experience met with us to be sure we were aware of the possible penalties for the action. Each of the three possible charges we would face could carry a six-month jail sentence and/or a $500 fine and conceivably the City of Omaha could seek to prosecute on all three counts. However, the most likely scenario would be a charge of “refusing to leave” and would likely incur a fine for local people and overnight in jail for those of us from states other than Nebraska. We might receive “time served” when we faced a Judge or we might be given an additional fine. There are no guarantees when one “rolls the dice” in committing civil disobedience in what Judge you will get and how the prosecutor will respond. I went expecting to do five days in jail.
Two of the four out-of-towners were Catholic priests and the third was an ex-priest. All had been active for decades in nonviolent protest and Fr. Louis Vitale had more than 200 arrests and Frank Cordaro had spent years in various prisons for his life of activism for peace and justice. Interestingly, Fr. Jim Murphy, had never spent a night in jail despite his participation in numerous other actions where he had risked arrest in the past. This was likely to be his first – and he couldn’t have been in better company to join others who had more experience “locked up for peace”.
As we planned the style and spirit of the action, we discussed how we might respond to a possible fine, making sure each of us were free to chose our own responses without pressure from the others. Louis had already made commitments to speak at several events in Georgia within a few days and Jim had commitments at his parish which he hoped to be able to attend to. Frank and I had hoped to “do the time instead of paying a fine”. Frank told us that we should feel free to take the “St. Paul option” – when the Apostle Paul was arrested during the early years after Jesus’ execution at the hands of the state, sometimes he acted as a common Jewish teacher and took the punishment meted out by the authorities. At other times, Paul insisted on his rights as a Roman citizen in responding to the consequences of his arrest. Frank assured all of us that we should all be ready to invoke the “St. Paul option” if we felt we needed to – the important thing was that we were willing to take risks for peace.
The group planning the action decided we wanted to center ourselves before walking to the Qwest Center where the civil disobedience would take place so we chose to celebrate Mass at the nearby Holy Family Catholic Church. Father Louis would preside and be joined by the church’s former activist Pastor, 80 year old Fr. Jack McCaslin. It was no surprise to see Father Jack who is well known in the city for his leadership in peace and justice concerns. He recently survived a serious heart attack and we were pleased he was able to join us. Jerry from the Omaha Catholic Worker is a member of that parish and showed us the beautiful sculpture of “The Itinerant Preacher, Jesus” which graces the front of the sanctuary. That bronze statue is a moving, life-like presence of the carpenter of Nazareth who has challenged and inspired all of us in this work, whether Catholic or not.
Empowered and emboldened by the Mass, as we headed toward the Qwest Center, Father Jack told us he was hoping to join us! This was no small matter. Alongside his health concerns, he had been told by a Federal Judge that if he is arrested again, he will be sent to prison for six months – no questions asked. But when the Spirit calls, one has to choose whether to act on faith or fear. What an inspiration to have him join us! It looked like our median age would be in the 60s. Peg at 91, Jack at 80, Louie at 77, I’m 59, Frank is 58, Jim is 55, and Mark Kenny, another local veteran of the struggle for justice was to be our youngest at 52. We were surprised when Dan, a member of Nebraskans for Peace joined us at the last minute to add his youthful 22 years to our somewhat grizzled appearance.
A group of about 30 gathered in front of the main entrance to the Qwest Center. One was dressed as a specter of death and the banner in front read “Space Weapons = Death”. I read aloud a statement drafted by group members on why we were there and then a symbolic “die-in” was staged. Several members had to help Peg Gallagher lay down on the sleeping bag she had brought to protect her from the cold sidewalk. Others helped Father Jack down to the ground. After five minutes, it was announced we would move the die-in indoors to the lobby where we were stopped by security and told to leave or face arrest.
Peg Gallagher was processed with a citation right at the scene of arrest while the rest of us were handcuffed and driven to the County Jail. The other three local arrestees were booked and released. The four of us who were from other states were booked into the jail. This process took several hours before we were escorted to our cells. Jim and I were placed in Pod #5 and into A Bay where there were already 20 other inmates. There were two addition bays in our pod for a total of 66 inmates and all the beds appeared to be occupied. Louis was placed in Pod 5 and Frank in Pod 8.
We anticipated that we would go before a judge in the morning but were surprised when the Corrections Officer stationed in our pod asked if anyone wanted to go to the roof for the hour of recreation at 8:30 AM. Although it was still quite cold out, I knew we would be given a jacket so Jim and I were the only two who went outside that next morning. (Over 30 of us went out the afternoon before when the weather was warmer.) Fortunately Father Louis had also opted to go outside so we were able to visit with him between the fence separating our two rec areas. An hour after lunch our names were called to line up to go to court.
Prior to being ushered into the courtroom attached to the jail, on of the Correctional Officers warned to 60 or so of us in our orange jail uniforms: You are lucky today. You have drawn Judge Lowe as your Judge. If you had come tomorrow, you would draw Judge Swartz. Consider yourselves fortunate to have Judge Lowe. He is fair but somewhat eccentric. He might ask you all types of questions. Listen to what he says. If he suggests you might want to take a certain plea, listen to him because he will spell out the consequences to you. We were specifically warned not to talk or say anything in the Courtroom until or unless the judge addressed us.
The next two and a quarter hours were a mix between what appeared to be a made-for-TV comedy or a “Judge Judy”-type show. Judge Lowe’s comments were prolific, personal, outlandish, seemingly inappropriate, compassionate, and paternalistic – you name it. Clearly an extrovert who enjoys his position and power from the bench, the judge uses the platform in his desire to dispense justice. Without knowing the details of each case, it seemed to me that he was quite harsh in some instances and very compassionate or generous in others – but throughout I had the impression of a person who genuinely cared for the people before him.
The court session began with the more serious felony cases and then progressed to the misdemeanors. We had no idea when we’d be called. Finally the Courtroom was down to four older white male defendants. The clock was nearing 3:30 PM and the rapidity of the Judge’s dealing with the previous 4 or 5 inmates made it clear that Judge Lowe was determined to get out of the Courtroom on time.
The Prosecutor called out the next case, Louis Vitale, and added that these last four cases were all on the same charge: failure to leave at the Qwest Center. The Judge right away told us that he often attends events there and quickly asked the inmate before him what was his plea, guilty or not guilty? When Louis responded with “No contest”, the Judge immediately stated “5 days in jail. If you had said guilty, you would have gotten 3 days.” Father Louis tried to speak up to say he was actually requesting a postponement of sentencing so he could travel to Georgia over the weekend to fulfill some speaking engagements he had scheduled. The Judge would hear none of it. “If you want to contest this sentence, bond is $100,000 – to see if you can change my mind. Now get out of here. [To the corrections officers] Take him out of here!”
Next case: Jim Murphy is called to the bench. How do you plead? Jim swallowed and said “No contest – oh, I mean guilty”. “Good call”, the judge responded. “3 days. Next”.
“Case number xxx (I didn’t hear the number but did hear), Stephen D. Clemens. I walked to the podium in front of the Judge’s bench debating in my mind whether to risk the Judge’s anger with a “no contest” plea or to remain safe with the “guilty-as-charged” less-costly route. Just as I was prepared to jump off the cliff with my “no contest –BUT I need to tell the court that I am a regular blood donor – I donate platelets every two weeks in order to help save lives, and if you sentence me to more than three days, I can’t donate again for a year due to federal regulations”, wanting to force the Judge to choose between retributive punishment and saving lives, the Judge looked at me and instead of asking for my plea instead asked “What were you doing?” He had obviously in his haste failed to read the documents before him about the nature of our “crime”.
I responded, “We were protesting, your Honor, against an Arms Bazaar that was at the Qwest Center. Corporations are trying to sell high-tech weapons to the Air Force and space weapons to STRATCOM and we were protesting that.” The puzzlement on the Judge’s face was completely transparent as Frank Cordaro, the last defendant still in the back of the Courtroom stood up and said in a loud voice, “Yes, your Honor, you just sentenced two Roman Catholic priests to jail!” The Judge was even more dumbfounded. He quickly ordered Frank to come forward to confirm what he had said. He was horrified at what had just happened and immediately shouted to the Correctional Officers serving as court bailiffs, “Quick, bring those last two men back in here!” To the Court reporters he said, “Give me back those files. I don’t want to send priests to jail.”
“What, are you all priests?” he asked and I said I’m not even Catholic. He asked more questions about what we had done, the nature of the trade show/symposium at the Qwest Center and quickly apologized to the two priests. “I thought this was a case about four old inebriates, four drunks who refused to leave the Qwest Center. I’m sorry.” He continued to tell us how his parents were involved in the civil rights struggle and how much he respected civil disobedience. “I remember their stories even though I was only 4 years old at the time.”
His entire demeanor had changed 180 degrees. He smiled and laughed and told us he appreciated what we did. Of course he was changing the sentence to “time served” and “I’ll try to get you released as soon as possible. You do realize that might still take a couple of hours, don’t you?” He asked who were our friends in the visitor’s gallery and we introduced Jerry and Cassandra who were there to support us. Before we left the Courtroom, Judge Lowe reached down from the Bench and shook each of our hands. He thanked us for acting on our convictions, telling us, “I hope you will return to Omaha next year again.”
Finally, an African-American judge who understands that the road to his judicial robe runs directly through the legacy of Martin King and Rosa Parks. Too bad Judge Edward Wilson continues to deny that reality, thinking his own “bootstraps” got him to his seat at the Bench of Justice.
"No Same or Similar"
“No Same or Similar” by Steve Clemens. November 2, 2009
Judge Edward Wilson looked down from on high. The Judge’s perch in the Ramsey County Courthouse is designed to give the impression that the one who occupies the “high ground” in this legal battlefield has the superior position. So that September afternoon when he was about to pass his sentence on me after the jury dutifully found me guilty for my nonviolent protest at the Republican National Convention, he looked down on me as he followed exactly what the prosecutor had recommended: “The City of St. Paul sees no purpose served at this time in jailing [the defendant]… The State is asking the Court to stay the imposition of sentence of this misdemeanor conviction for the period of one year – on the condition that [the defendant] pay a $100. fine, plus the other fees and assessments required by law [$81], and the Court orders [the defendant] to have no same or similar violations of the law in the next year.” Judge Wilson added “and remain law-abiding in all respects” as he issued his edict from on high.
I had tried to be law-abiding – recognizing that there is a hierarchy of laws and in my estimation, International Law and Treaties need to be weighed in the balance when one is considering how to behave in a responsible manner as a citizen as well as as a follower of Jesus of Nazareth - a responsibility I see as more important than even my civic responsibility. There was an illegal war in progress then – and two wars continue today. I continue to remain willing to accept the consequences when those loyalties conflict.
But my question is: does “no same or similar” also apply to our Presidents who continue to claim one can succeed with military solutions to “counterinsurgency” situations – despite all evidence to the contrary? Vietnam was our “Vietnam”; Afghanistan was the Soviet Union’s “Vietnam”. “Vietnam” has become a pejorative term which is short-hand for an unwinnable situation. Historians tell us you can’t “win hearts and minds” with military firepower. But first Bush, now Obama, seem determined to commit a “same or similar” act. I would call it a mistake if it were just an innocent error of judgment. But when the President surrounds himself with “the best and the brightest” who continue to get foreign policy wrong, one has to wonder if it is not deliberate. I would like to believe President Obama is sincere when he tells the troops he addresses that he doesn’t want to send them into “harm’s way” unless it is “absolutely necessary”. I try to believe him but I have my doubts. Is it “absolutely necessary” for us to continue the economically and environmentally unsustainable “American style of life”?
So why do I continue to do “the same or similar” in defiance of the Judge or even in the face of disappointment from the apparent lack of change in our national policy? Is it worth risking three months in jail or prison just to participate in a symbolic action that few are likely to see and the media will likely dismiss as unworthy of notice on the evening news? [When the Judge “stayed” sentencing back in September, it means if I violate the “no same or similar” edict, I am liable for the maximum sentence on the first offense (trespass at the RNC), up to 3 months – plus any additional sentence the current Judge might impose when arrested.]
Actually, the real question is: what do I risk by not acting? What part of my life-spirit shrinks when I respond out of fear of the consequences rather than following the clarity of conscience? Is taking a risk for peace and justice only worthwhile when one has a larger audience or a greater likelihood of “success”? The action in question is being part of “die in” this week in front of an Arms Bazaar in Omaha – the shopping mall where the merchants of death hawk their latest ways to facilitate killing to the world’s most-addicted military.
Besides, risking arrest gives me the potential opportunity to spend several days with the legendary Franciscan activist, Father Louie Vitale who has been arrested more than 200 times in his quest for peace with justice; and Frank Cordaro as well, the ex-priest and Catholic Worker activist from Des Moines. Others pay good money to hear these seasoned activists tell inspiring stories at conferences; going to jail with them is like auditing their courses in nonviolent action at no tuition – and you get room and board to boot! Granted, one never knows what to expect when locked up by the authorities. Sometimes the noise and commotion allows little energy for those discussions. Sometimes “co-defendants” are deliberately split up from one another in different parts of the jail. But knowing that for even a short time one was not complicit with the Empire can embolden one to continue on the journey toward peace.
Judge Edward Wilson looked down from on high. The Judge’s perch in the Ramsey County Courthouse is designed to give the impression that the one who occupies the “high ground” in this legal battlefield has the superior position. So that September afternoon when he was about to pass his sentence on me after the jury dutifully found me guilty for my nonviolent protest at the Republican National Convention, he looked down on me as he followed exactly what the prosecutor had recommended: “The City of St. Paul sees no purpose served at this time in jailing [the defendant]… The State is asking the Court to stay the imposition of sentence of this misdemeanor conviction for the period of one year – on the condition that [the defendant] pay a $100. fine, plus the other fees and assessments required by law [$81], and the Court orders [the defendant] to have no same or similar violations of the law in the next year.” Judge Wilson added “and remain law-abiding in all respects” as he issued his edict from on high.
I had tried to be law-abiding – recognizing that there is a hierarchy of laws and in my estimation, International Law and Treaties need to be weighed in the balance when one is considering how to behave in a responsible manner as a citizen as well as as a follower of Jesus of Nazareth - a responsibility I see as more important than even my civic responsibility. There was an illegal war in progress then – and two wars continue today. I continue to remain willing to accept the consequences when those loyalties conflict.
But my question is: does “no same or similar” also apply to our Presidents who continue to claim one can succeed with military solutions to “counterinsurgency” situations – despite all evidence to the contrary? Vietnam was our “Vietnam”; Afghanistan was the Soviet Union’s “Vietnam”. “Vietnam” has become a pejorative term which is short-hand for an unwinnable situation. Historians tell us you can’t “win hearts and minds” with military firepower. But first Bush, now Obama, seem determined to commit a “same or similar” act. I would call it a mistake if it were just an innocent error of judgment. But when the President surrounds himself with “the best and the brightest” who continue to get foreign policy wrong, one has to wonder if it is not deliberate. I would like to believe President Obama is sincere when he tells the troops he addresses that he doesn’t want to send them into “harm’s way” unless it is “absolutely necessary”. I try to believe him but I have my doubts. Is it “absolutely necessary” for us to continue the economically and environmentally unsustainable “American style of life”?
So why do I continue to do “the same or similar” in defiance of the Judge or even in the face of disappointment from the apparent lack of change in our national policy? Is it worth risking three months in jail or prison just to participate in a symbolic action that few are likely to see and the media will likely dismiss as unworthy of notice on the evening news? [When the Judge “stayed” sentencing back in September, it means if I violate the “no same or similar” edict, I am liable for the maximum sentence on the first offense (trespass at the RNC), up to 3 months – plus any additional sentence the current Judge might impose when arrested.]
Actually, the real question is: what do I risk by not acting? What part of my life-spirit shrinks when I respond out of fear of the consequences rather than following the clarity of conscience? Is taking a risk for peace and justice only worthwhile when one has a larger audience or a greater likelihood of “success”? The action in question is being part of “die in” this week in front of an Arms Bazaar in Omaha – the shopping mall where the merchants of death hawk their latest ways to facilitate killing to the world’s most-addicted military.
Besides, risking arrest gives me the potential opportunity to spend several days with the legendary Franciscan activist, Father Louie Vitale who has been arrested more than 200 times in his quest for peace with justice; and Frank Cordaro as well, the ex-priest and Catholic Worker activist from Des Moines. Others pay good money to hear these seasoned activists tell inspiring stories at conferences; going to jail with them is like auditing their courses in nonviolent action at no tuition – and you get room and board to boot! Granted, one never knows what to expect when locked up by the authorities. Sometimes the noise and commotion allows little energy for those discussions. Sometimes “co-defendants” are deliberately split up from one another in different parts of the jail. But knowing that for even a short time one was not complicit with the Empire can embolden one to continue on the journey toward peace.
Remarks for MN FOR Peacemaker Award 2009
Remarks for MN Fellowship Of Reconciliation Peacemaker of the Year Award – Steve Clemens. Nov. 1, 2009
Peacemaking is a journey, not a point of arrival. I never thought my up bringing would lead me to this event. My Evangelical background dismissed anything labeled “inter-faith” - and its stark “saved/lost” dichotomy almost relished the idea of leaving some behind. My “peacemaking” got off to a rocky start in the late 1960s and was characterized more with disgust and hatred of President Nixon rather than out of compassion for the Vietnamese civilians or US soldiers killed in that war.
When I chose to become a conscientious objector during the height of the Vietnam War in 1968 in response to the military draft, it was a purely personal decision. I couldn’t reconcile my desire to follow a Jesus who called me to “love my enemies” with the uniform and rifle I was issued for my compulsory Army ROTC class and drill at my college.
Becoming a conscientious objector was a personal decision initially and it didn’t impact my politics or career choices. It was only during the following summer of 1969, after having my life threatened by a Black Panther on the streets of Philadelphia and then watching the landing on the moon in a tenement slum apartment as a rat ran across the room that it began to dawn on me that my conscientious objection had to become a commitment to peacemaking - to become “political” in the sense that it had to go beyond whether I was willing to take up a gun or not but had to impact all the choices I made.
What was personal had to become social and political. It was a Catholic priest from the Maryknoll seminary down the road from my Wheaton College campus that helped me move from a personal stand to public protest.
It was another Catholic, a former nun, Elizabeth Macalister and her husband, Phil Berrigan, who a few years later helped me transition from public protest to nonviolent direct action and civil disobedience. It was a long journey from a childhood where I was coached to avoid Catholics because they weren’t “born-again Christians” like my family was - to being inspired by their commitment to a God of Peace.
The genius of the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR) is that it draws from the strength and insight of many streams of religious thought and practice, refusing to attempt to contain “truth” within the confines of one religion or set of doctrinal beliefs.
I had first heard of the FOR during my years of street protest against the Vietnam War and my attempts as a draft counselor where groups with acronyms like the FOR and CCCO (The Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors) and NISBCO (National Inter-religious Service Board for Conscientious Objectors) became helpful sources of information for young men wrestling with issues of war and peace and the draft.
But the power and witness of FOR really hit home when I moved to south Georgia and met an 80-year old man at Koinonia in 1975. Will Wittkamper was raised as a member of the Disciples of Christ or Christian Church. He didn’t know what a pacifist was, he just knew that the Jesus he followed wouldn’t allow him to carry a gun. When he was drafted for World War I, he refused to take up a gun and was thrown into prison for his conscience. He told me how a few years later he wept when he heard of a group of others who were also morally opposed to war and how eagerly he signed on to become one of the early members of the FOR. Christine and I named our first son, Micah Will, after this man of conscience and we hope our lives, too, will serve to inspire others like Will did for us.
One other FOR experience had a major effect on my own journey: I attended a national FOR Conference in Berea, KY in 1980 where I encountered presentations from Dan Berrigan and the radical Southern Baptist preacher, Will Campbell. Will insisted that Jesus had very few direct commands to his followers – but one of them was that we must visit those in prison. As a result, and with the mentoring of Murphy Davis of The Open Door Community in Atlanta, I ended up visiting a man on Death Row in Georgia over the next 10 years. Meeting Bob Redd, and eventually trusting him to hold and play with my infant sons during our prison visits taught me a lot about peacemaking and the need for justice to be tempered with mercy.
I’d like to share a few things I’ve learned on this journey.
· Peacemaking, while it often appears to be a solitary witness, is more often the result of partnerships and community. I’ve been blessed with a life-partner and spouse who has supported and encouraged me even though our styles are quite different! Thank you, Christine. And, being surrounded by a community which shares my convictions has been an essential part of my peacemaking efforts - first at Koinonia Partners where I lived from 1975 to 1990, and now The Community of St. Martin since then. This award must be shared with them – as well as the “communities” of Pax Christi, Alliant ACTION, WAMM, IARP, SOA Watch, MN Peace Team, Vets for Peace and many other groups.
· There is always new learning and deeper commitments to explore: After my first arrest in 1975 at the White House during the final days of the Vietnam War, I was shocked to learn that a few of my fellow arrestees remained in jail rather than accept “release on their own recognizance” -they had understood the “White Privilege” implicit in that offer. Constantly I’ve been challenged with the question, “How deep do you want to go?” and as I witness the courage and conviction which leads others to take their first step or go deeper I am humbled and grateful for their commitments. Some have paid a heavy price for their risks for peace.
· I’ve learned when I allow myself to act on my faith rather than my fears, my faith is strengthened and new possibilities emerge. When I chose to climb the fence outside the Pantex Nuclear Weapons Assembly Plant in 1981, or sit on the train tracks in southern Georgia to block the shipment of nuclear warheads to the Trident submarines in 1985, or traveled to Iraq with war threatening with the Iraq Peace Team, I had to wrestle with the possibility of my own death before acting. It has been my experience that acting after considering the potential costs has been a very liberating and empowering thing.
Clarence Jordan, one of the founders of the Koinonia Community, used to say that “Fear is the polio of the soul which keeps us from walking by faith”. He went on to say that faith is not believing in spite of the evidence but rather acting in scorn of the consequences.
· I’ve learned that time spent in jail or prison need not be “unproductive”. My experience of reading the scriptures while in prison gives one a very different perspective than reading it on the “outside”. It is amazing how much of the Christian and Jewish scriptures were written either in exile, prison, or on the run from “the authorities”, political or religious. Prison time forces you to draw on your inner resources.
Like Dr. Martin Luther King, I’ve found writing from prison lends one a different sense of credibility or authority than when on the “outside”. I’ve been inspired by King, Daniel Berrigan, Kathy Kelly, Rita Steinhagen and others who have written about their experiences while “guests of the state”.
More importantly, as a white male, time incarcerated can help one experience powerlessness and not being in “control”. This is a critical learning for anyone striving to be a peacemaker. Jail is not the only place to learn this but it is hard to escape learning it when one is imprisoned.
· I’ve also learned that I need “decompression” time after time in jail or prison –almost equal to the same amount of time one has spent locked-up. Time for reflection and renewal is often neglected in the life of activists and I’ve found it essential if I am to be equipped for “the long haul”. Reading and writing are helpful disciplines for me.
· I’ve struggled over the years with the continuum within peacemaking efforts between faithfulness and effectiveness. There are many different styles of peacemaking and we need to appreciate all of them rather than giving special recognition to one style (like civil disobedience) over the others. Some of us would rather risk going to jail than to sit through interminable strategy/planning meetings! All our gifts will need to be implemented for peace to prevail.
I ask myself as bad knees or an aching back make it more difficult for me to participate in a “die-in” or to get into the top bunk in my prison cell: Am I getting too old for this? I am so grateful to have so many “fellow travelers” to accompany me – many of whom are here today. I am learning the importance of mentors and mentoring the next generation. I’ve been blessed to have learned from Phil and Liz and others from the Catholic Worker movement, and from Ladon Sheats and Kathy Jennings, two peacemakers almost no one in this room has ever heard of. Now I find myself joining “young people” in protest at immigration deportation centers and foreclosed houses, meeting with SDS activists from Macalester, and talking with RNC arrestees – hopefully sharing some of what I’ve learned in my own journey.
I am humbled by your recognition and accept this award on behalf of the communities with which I act and receive my support. Thanks to all of you for the important peacemaking work you have done and continue to do. Hopefully our paths will continue to cross as we encourage, challenge, and nurture one another as we together strive to make this a world worthy of the next generations. Thank you.
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