Waiting for our Tahrir Square Revolution

Practicing for the Revolution: Preparing for our Tahrir Square Moment by Steve Clemens. Oct. 5, 2011

Peacemaker Kathy Kelly told our new friends, Zahra, Shahrbanoo, and Basir, in Kubul in March, “We didn’t know when the revolution would start in Egypt or what might trigger it but we did know that behind the scenes there were young people just like you – committed to nonviolent change – learning tactics and strategies of nonviolence. And we didn’t know that the change would come so quickly.” Those 3 Afghan peacemakers, along with their new friends from the Bamiyan Province, the Afghan Youth Peace Volunteers, are working for a new, peaceful, and more just Afghanistan to come out of the bitter ashes of war and occupation.

Here on our side of the globe, we too need a radical re-ordering of our politics, our economy, and our whole society as the transition away from the declining empire become imperative. The last time I was in the Imperial City known as Washington, it was with environmental justice activists pleading with the President to stop the Tar Sands/Keystone XL Pipeline and to help move us more quickly into our post-oil/fossil fuel future. By all indications, it appears our protests and 1,253 arrests fell on deaf ears.

I’m back again, this time to join with a myriad of peace groups in an attempt to occupy Freedom Plaza, a park area in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue between the White House and the Capitol. October 6^th, the 10^th anniversary of the start of the longest war in US history was the date picked to begin what hopes to embody an on-going nonviolent presence calling for the end of both the wars on the Afghans and the Iraqis but also a radical re-orienting of our social and political priorities away from war and domination toward care for the earth, assistance for the poor and marginalized, and an end to corporate and big money control over our politics and policies.

This presence is with the same spirit and energy fueling the “Occupy Wall Street” movement, now entering its 3^rd week, and is metastasizing in other cities around the nation. We don’t know what might spark our own “Arab Spring”-type uprising but many of us know deep in our guts that it is needed and the time may be ripe for the masses to get off their couches and into the streets demanding change. The Tea Party folk are already angry but most of that rage has been misdirected by the Koch brothers and other right-wing bloviators like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh towards the victims rather than the perpetrators and enablers.

I don’t expect the revolution will begin tomorrow (or, as has been said by prophets and poets, will it be televised by the corporate-owned and controlled media). But we do need practice in learning to say NO!, in using nonviolent methods, in taking responsibility for orchestrating change rather than merely voting for politicians whose promises are quickly abandoned on the altar of real-politick and re-election strategies managed by those with entrenched vested interests and a lot of campaign contributions.   

It is a broad coalition attempting this occupation. Some of us come from religious/faith communities and networks, others eschew the role that religious institutions have enabled and baptized the imperial order. Some still hold out a diminished hope for change within the political systems while others see voting as a waste of time and energy which should be channeled elsewhere. Some are avowed anarchists; others envision themselves as true patriots. The group will include whistleblowers as well as those who have never worked “within the system”. Military veterans will be standing side-by-side with conscientious objectors and draft resisters. Many of us are retired while a growing number who will join are under- and unemployed. I suspect that our initial presence will be way too white but hopefully we will continue to work more frequently with our brothers and sisters of color who are more frequently on the receiving end of our empire’s dysfunction and destruction.

Hopefully, it will inspire, reenergize, and encourage us and others for the long slog ahead of building a nation which places people before profits, looks to the well-being of both present and future generations, and is designed around compassion rather than domination. [For more info, check out www.october2011.org]

Day 6: Tough Questions Without Easy Answers

A Day of Tough Questions With No Easy Answers: Day 6 in the War Zone by Steve Clemens

The conversation actually began the afternoon before. The seven of us who traveled to the Panjshir Valley had hurried back so we could attend a session on transitional justice followed by a meal at the home of our speaker. I confess I was somewhat drowsy for the PowerPoint presentation by Yonos Akhtar and a younger spokesperson (whose name I failed to record) from Physicians for Human Rights. Talk of amnesty laws vs. prosecution of war crimes made me reflect on our own situation back in the US. How does on balance the need for justice and accountability against the other compelling need to “move forward” and not wallow in the past?

I have joined public vigils at the Federal Courthouse in Minneapolis and at the University of St. Thomas Law School over the past several years demanding prosecution of Americans who paved the way for practicing torture on those detained in the tumultuous years following the September 11th attacks. Certainly part of my passion has aspects of retribution and anger at how the general public was manipulated and abused by the fear-mongering by politicians for political gain - but most of all, I feel that if Cheney, Bush, Yoo, Delahunty, Rumsfeld, Rice, and others aren’t held accountable, it will be easier to cross those illegal and immoral thresholds again and again. Since these perpetrators (or should I say perp-e-traitors?) are now out of office and at least some of the post-9-11 paranoia has subsided, I don’t feel an imminent threat of these policies being re-instituted although Obama’s promise to close Guantanamo still is glaringly unfulfilled.

However, there seems to be a palpable fear among the older and more middle-class Afghans we met with – a real fear of a resurgence of the Taliban and other brutal warlords if the US pulls out too precipitously. After the presentation, Yonos said he would transport us, four or five at a time, to his nearby home for the dinner. En route, he told me he wants the US Military to remain (he didn’t say for how long) because otherwise the Taliban would return and oppress them again. I listened respectfully, allowing him to express his fears and concerns. After a five-minute ride down several streets that were really no more than alleys, we arrived at his home, removed our shoes, and were ushered into a long, narrow room where our dinner was to be served. The long, carpeted room had no furnishings other than art on the walls and a TV set at the one end. He brought in a local musician who played the dauyab, a 3-stringed instrument, and sang while we waited for Yonos to fetch the others. We waited for almost an hour before others arrived and were told we missed a very lively (and at times heated) discussion amongst those who had remained after the meeting. One of the more outspoken Afghans, Liah Ghazanfar Jawed, Director of the Solidarity for Justice Foundation asked if the conversation could continue so we walked over to her offices the next afternoon.

One of the critical concerns raised by the transitional justice coalition surrounds what they feel is a culture impunity throughout the entire country with little to no acknowledgment of the victims’ suffering or of past crimes. Karzai signed an Amnesty Law (for acts committed during the civil war) in secret and the lack of transparency greatly troubles this group. They claim many of the warlords that populate his cabinet should be prosecuted for war crimes. Accountability, not amnesia, for past and present crimes is a prerequisite for genuine reconciliation and peace in Afghanistan, they said. Some in the group appeared to be open to a Truth and Reconciliation process similar to that in South Africa but only if specific crimes are acknowledged as part of the process. There can be no peace without justice. “We don’t want a peace with these (known) criminals walking around”, especially those given powerful positions in the government.

However, the most contentious issue seems to be how, politically, can this process of accountability, reparations, and healing happen with the constant threat and fear of the Taliban regaining control? For many of these middle class Afghans (who, in all likelihood also benefit, at least indirectly, from the billions of US dollars flowing into Afghanistan for both the prosecution of the war and for the supposed re-building under the counter-insurgency strategy), there is grave concern of (another) rapid US pull-out reminiscent of what happened in early 2003 when Afghanistan was dumped for the new center of the war, Iraq. So they voiced a strong support for US troops to remain. [How long and under what conditions was more vague.] The AYPV boys, on the other hand stated clearly they wanted all foreign troops out as quickly as could be done “responsibly”.

Both the US and Australian peace delegates responded with a warning: beware of the fox guarding the hen house. The Afghans, desperate to have a strong counter-force to a possible resurgent Taliban had ascribed all sorts of honorable intentions to the US intervention – women’s rights, democracy, human rights, … The Americans countered that perception by citing US interests in securing a pipeline through Afghanistan for oil and natural gas, regional hegemony (especially to counter threats from Iran), empire-building, and political payback for US weapons manufacturers as less noble reasons. Donna observed that when an Australian soldier is killed in Afghanistan, it is front-page news back home. But, she continued, we hear nothing in our media about Afghan victims. The justice I seek, she said, is to value all the victims. US delegates expressed their pessimism that the US military might never leave.

Hakim pointed out what he thought was the foundational question that must be addressed in this discussion: Is peace and justice brought about with and through military means? Peggy noted that recent studies have reported that when the US increases the number of troops, the number of Taliban also seems to increase which indicates the strategy doesn’t work. A number of analysts have observed that whenever civilians were killed by US or ISAF military action, particularly by Hellfire missiles fired by pilot-less drone aircraft from miles above the intended target, an exponentially larger number joins the resistance or insurgency.

Kathy Kelly was asked by Hakim to respond to the concerns raised. She said, “We do have a great deal of cynicism but we’d like it to be tempered with love – but we know that the people who have been in charge in our country have been ruthless and they have tolerated tremendous bloodshed and starvation and terrible destruction of our environment in war after war after war.

And … we have to have tender hearts but tough minds; when the United States is trying to assure that all its soldiers here get fed – and they are fed – some of them complain that they are too fat now, it means many, many trucks of supplies have to go … and we know that the US has to pay for passage to get these trucks through and this money goes to the pockets of these same warlords that we say we are fighting against. And we know that it is costing $1 million per year for one soldier, $2 BILLION every week – who is getting that money, where is it going? It’s not going to the right hands. Its not going to help assure that the structures you are working hard to preserve will be supported.

Because I was in Iraq 27 times, and I’ve been with mothers, holding their babies, starving – none of those mothers went home with their babies – none of them. 500,000 children. And the United States government does not care. We fasted for 30 days under George Bush every summer; we tried every trick in the book, and they devastated Iraq, they broke it. We have a history of genocide and we don’t want it inflicted on other people. We want to tell the truth – to ourselves. And then we want to ask you to forgive us and hope we can go forward in friendship.”

By the end of our two-hour conversation, we realized we weren’t that far apart. Our Afghan friends wanted to hear their pain about the victims that are too quickly forgotten and their real fears about another civil war occurring if the US pulls out too quickly; the peace delegates wanted to be sure the Afghans didn’t mistakenly ascribe too noble intentions to the military intervention by the US and other international forces. The AYPV young people want the spiral of violence to end. All of us sensed the pain and destructiveness of war and the evils of unchecked and unaccountable power. We had come to Afghanistan to listen and learn. There are no easy answers once the dogs of war have been unleashed.

Day 7 in a War Zone

The Faces of a New Afghanistan: Day 7 in a war zone by Steve Clemens. March 24, 2011

She is an unveiled, defiant young woman. He is a filmmaker still recovering from his kidnapping 6 ½ years ago. She told me this morning, only half in jest, that she plans on becoming the President. He, at only 15, has known the pain of losing his father but is still willing to stand up to the intimidation of much older adults.

What Zahra, Basir, Shahrbanoo, and Abdulai have in common is a commitment to peace, acts of courage, and, yes, they are all tired – tired of living in a nation of fear, corruption, violence, ethnic animosity and gender discrimination. One turns 30 in a few months, another 20 next week. At 23 and 15, the other two belie their ages with hard-won wisdom. All four took the gutsy step of protest in the streets of Kabul on Thursday, March 17th with 35-40 others, draped in bright turquoise blue scarves and holding banners reading “Today we make a resolute stand for a peaceful tomorrow”, “The citizens of Afghanistan say No to war”, “We wish to live without wars”, and “Warmongers, do not turn our houses into war bastions!”

Some are members of the Afghan Youth Peace Volunteers (AYPV); others belong to organizations that have aligned themselves to the AYPV, despite the enormous distrust many Afghans feel for their fellow citizens. These 4 collaborate together hoping to find ways to encourage each other in what is an admittedly lonely struggle – at least for now. While their elders sit in fear of the return of the Taliban, these young, energetic activists want their nation to move forward, not merely crouching in fear or wallowing in corruption.

Each of the four had 25 committed peacemakers from Germany, Australia, and the US travel with them for a week, listening to them, weeping with them, and smiling and hugging one another; peacemakers from four continents sharing stories and food, lighting candles to remember the victims of war. One of the International Peace Delegates, now in his 80s, had marched in the Deep South of the US in the days of the Cold War – a march from Canada to Cuba – and was there for the birthing of the Civil Rights movement. Two other internationals were so young that they couldn’t remember the first Gulf War in 1991, just a year older than my youngest son.

Abdulai laughs easily but he also carries a deep wound. It was the strength and courage of his older brother, Khamed Jan, who carried his younger brother up the mountains to hide from the Taliban who had killed their father. Like any 15 year-old who experienced such a traumatic loss, Abdulai has moments of anger and times of despair but when he was scolded by adults who told him he is naïve and unrealistic for advocating that negotiations to heal Afghanistan’s ethnic rivalries must also include the Taliban – at least lower-level Talibs – he quickly reminds the adults that he has already had a cup full of pain and wants the cycles of hatred, vengeance, and revenge to end.


Knowing a little of how hard it is for any woman – let alone one who openly defies her extremely patriarchal culture – one of the Americans asks Zahra if she’d consider moving to India, Pakistan, Iran, or even the U.S. to give her some breathing room, a safer space, from which to operate. No, this is my country; I am an Afghan woman was her response. I could see in her sad eyes and drooping shoulders as she let down her natural defenses to tell us how tired she was. We listened, our hearts breaking at her pain – yet strangely celebrating the strength of this young woman at the same time. She had invited many people to join her in the peace march in the street last Thursday who said they’d come but then didn’t answer her calls on the day it was happening.

She is trying to bring change to Afghanistan but says she sees little change - she doesn’t witness good results. She tried politics for a couple of years but was disgusted with the fraud and corruption. People accept them just because of money, she observed. Although she likes some of the ideas of Dr. Barshardost, a Member of Parliament, she is not sure about his strategy. But she still sees it as too much talk and not enough action. “He should do, he should Act. People are tired of speaking, they want to see action. Barshardost hands out money (to the needy) but he should help with real development.”

“I’m tired; I don’t know how I can accept this situation. I want to work for peace but I worry that I am alone. I can’t find more people who have the same idea. When people are hungry, how can I say to them that you should work for peace? When they are jobless, how can I ask them to take a political stand? They can only think about food and work.” Then one of the internationals tells her that the recent uprising in Egypt didn’t happen overnight. It was people just like you working behind the scenes for years – even we didn’t see how fast the change came.

Basir, a photojournalist, told me he awoke from a nightmare a few nights ago, fearing he had a hole blown into the back of his skull, waking up with a premonition that it might be best for him to lay low today. It might be a wise decision since he had a similar dream the night before the Taliban kidnapped him in 2004. Although it has been more than 6 years since that event, he told us he is more concerned about his physical safety in the past year than anytime before. He told us that suicide bombers could strike anywhere. Although his beautiful photographs grace many of the walls at the Open Society office, greeting us every morning with his colorful images, most of his work is at the 3rd Eye Photojournalism Center, the place where we held the candle light vigil for victims of war several days ago.

Basir tells us the story somewhat matter-of-factly, as if keeping his emotions at arm’s length, he won’t have to be re-traumatized. He was traveling with two other photojournalists and he doesn’t give us the details of the kidnapping or how long they were held. The female filmmaker was shot by the Taliban and she remained lying on the ground, the Taliban assuming she was dead. I wasn’t clear on where she was shot but in moving away from her, allowed her to escape and survive. Meanwhile, the Talibs held Basir and the other photographer, hoping to exchange them for prisoners held at Baghram’s prison on the sprawling Air Base. During this ordeal, one of his captors became sick and Basir helped him. This captor was sympathetic to them, telling them what was going on, the hope of the prisoner exchange.

However, it became clear that neither the US or Karzai governments were interested in a prisoner swap and so Basir was told by this man that they were to be killed the next day. The man he helped indicated that he was powerless to release them and was sorry it had come to this. As they were on the move to the area where they were to be executed, the Talibs got word that another group of their comrades had just ambushed and killed “an international [soldier] and an Afghan soldier.” His captors, elated with the news lit a fire, and began dancing and celebrating. With the forewarning about their planned execution, Basir and his friend used the distraction of the celebration to escape.

So when Basir tells us seven years later that “things are much more difficult now”, referring to suicide bombing attacks that can happen “anywhere”, it may be a sign of hyper-vigilance as a result of post-traumatic stress or it can be just a realistic evaluation of the depression and fear engendered after decades of war and senseless violence. Basir and my other three friends have not known any extended periods of peace in their lifetimes – yet they are still willing to embrace us, visitors from the country which has armed both sides of this on-going tragedy.


Shahrbanoo is being mentored as a filmmaker by Basir and also acted in one of his films. She and Zahra “escaped” to Kabul – leaving their very conservative, prescribed-roles, rural homes (without their parents’ knowledge or permission. [Their parents have followed them, moving to Kabul.] Basir serves as an “older brother” in picking them up and riding with them to the office. Never knowing who is watching, and with so many rigidly conservative men ready to pounce on any women brazen or foolish enough to travel unaccompanied by a male family member, having Basir or Asif accompany them is a helpful and prudent thing. I’m drawn by their lively spirits and their ready laughter with us but also know the deep well of pain they carry with them. They obviously draw support from each other.

For their future, for the future of their country, this war must end. They are very clear to us: Get the US troops out as quickly as can as be done responsibly. They don’t want to see the Taliban fill the political and military vacuum that could be created with too quick a withdrawal but the present reality must change. Karzai and his cronies may be hopelessly corrupt – but with courage and insight, these young people are getting ready to lead a new Afghanistan. It is a privilege to have listened to them.

Day Two in the War Zone

Day Two in the War Zone: Planting Trees, Burning Candles by Steve Clemens. March 19, 2011

In the morning we walked in groups of five for about 30-45 minutes through our area of Kabul en route to our morning activity. I awoke at 4 AM to use the bathroom and when the call to prayer was broadcast from the nearby mosque about 40 minutes later, I knew it was time to get up because the dogs on the street also joined the chorus. The city is fairly dirty (what does one expect in one of the poorest countries in the world which is at war with the world’s largest military machines?) and the traffic has no street lights or road striping so the cars switch invisible lanes as the pedestrians dodge and move between them.

Vendors crowd the sidewalk selling fruit, live chickens, freshly butchered meat, nuts, beans, and a multitude of other items. We travel in groups of 4 or 5 – always escorted by one of the Afghan Youth Peace Volunteers. I know I shouldn’t have favorites - they are all so wonderful and helpful – but I can’t help but respond most to 13 year-old Gholami, the youngest and smallest of the 8 who have joined us for several days. We walk in small groups so we blend in a little more than if we all walk together. About half of the International Peace Delegation is staying at a hotel, others of us are sleeping on the floor in the office building of a non-profit organization that has joined with AYPV in inviting us. After walking down two main streets, we branch off into what seems to be a side street which more resembles an alley with an open sewer/gutter on one side. As cars or trucks pass us they blow their horns so we can step aside.

Vans come by with other delegates from the hotel and we are offered rides but Simon and I prefer to walk with several of the boys, enjoying the sunshine and “fresh air”. Actually, the air is often quite polluted with fumes from older, untuned vehicles. We walk purposefully and deliberately so as to not draw undue attention, despite our pale complexions. (Simon, from Australia, is fairer-skinned than me.) Since most of the others arrived before us, we missed part of the presentation at the private school which was our destination.

Lena, the teacher who addressed our group at the school, was a young woman who described the school and answered our questions. We had “one cup of tea” (we could have had more if we wished – even 3 Cups of Tea) but were told what Afghanistan needs is not more money to build schools but rather to have teachers properly trained. Having school buildings does no good without trained teachers. And teachers have to be paid a wage they can live with. The public school teachers are not paid enough and often have class sizes of 50-70 students – an impossible situation to help students learn at the grade school level. This private school had 20-25 students per class and it appeared to me at the recess time that the predominance was girls at this school.

When asked about whether the US military is needed for security, both the school’s principal and the teacher quickly said they wanted the US troops to leave. Lena added that “we need to make peace by ourselves” – it is not something that can be imposed from the outside. She continued, “Instead of waging war [here], the US could concentrate on education instead”, using the incredible amounts of money to train teachers.

The AYPV had picked this school for the tree-planting opportunity as a way to symbolically celebrate the New Year which would begin two days hence on the first day of Spring. Afghans are about to begin Year 1390 – their calendar, like that it many other Muslim-dominated nations, is dated from the time of their Prophet Mohammad. Students at the school drew or painted pictures of trees as an art project to celebrate the tree-planting event in their schoolyard.

Before we moved to the schoolyard to plant the trees, Hakim and the AYPV boys recited a poem they wrote the night before, “We Need a Different Tree” – a moving statement of choosing peace over war. It lamented how “power and privilege oppress the people – it is perfected in war. … Why would an Afghan mother want a tree that kills? … War is not a tree we want to plant – so, if we wish to live without war, we need to plant a different tree.”
Then 55 trees, almond, poplar, plum, apricot, and apple, were placed in the already-dug holes provided. A local man pruned them after they were planted and watered. As we finished, the children were let out of the classrooms for recess/exercise and they were enamored at the visitors to their school; some loved posing for photos, other avoided our cameras.

The school principal announced that the garden/schoolyard would be re-named “The Friendship Garden.”

The van ride back to our office space –like all rides in the Kabul traffic – was another adventure. Just when you think the driver will hit a bike rider or pedestrian, scrape an on-coming car or one that you are passing, the brakes are applied or the steering wheel turned to prevent the accident. Any insurance agency would have to be crazy to cover someone for collision –although I don’t seem much beyond very close calls. It makes rush hour in the Twin Cities look positively relaxing.

Next on the day’s list (after a light lunch) was to drive to the Emergency Medical Hospital for civilian war casualties operated by an Italian NGO to donate our blood. (Ironically, I was told in Minneapolis before I left that I will not be able to donate platelets for a full year if I travel to Afghanistan due to threat of malaria – even though the threat doesn’t arrive until May, long after I’ve left.) My group had some difficulty getting a taxi to the hospital so we missed most of the tour and discovered that they only needed O negative blood that day. Two of us met that requirement but Kathy, who was one of the two, was asked to wait a couple of weeks since she gave at that hospital only several weeks before. She will donate again before she returns to Chicago in a couple of weeks.

Returning to the office, we had a convoy of 5 huge armored tan vehicles of the International Security Assistance Forces (ISAF) pass us. Even though there were no US markings, it is clear to everyone who is in sight that these behemoths are the dinosaurs of the crumbling American empire – unfortunately still very deadly in its decline.

Later in the afternoon, we walked to the 3rd Eye Photojournalism Center, the host organization for the candlelight vigil in remembrance of the victims of war. A stunning gallery of wonderful photos taken from all over Afghanistan graced the walls of the four rooms and a table with candles encircling a banner reading “For the War’s Victims” in both English and Dari. After a few moving talks and the reading of the names of the 7 boys who were killed earlier this month in one of the northern provinces, the AYPV boys lit candles and passed them to all of us and we observed 2 minutes of silence in memory of all of war’s victims. Many of us felt tears welling up knowing that two of the boys present had lost their father to the Taliban several years ago. I am amazed at their courage and commitment.

At dinner afterward, I had a great conversation with Zahra, yesterday’s moving speaker from the Open Society, deeply moved by this 23 year old women who refuses to wear the veil except when she is outdoors. She has many questions for me – why I came here, what do I think about Afghanistan, what other Americans think about the war, … . I’m sure we will have several more conversations before our week’s end.

Having gotten up before dawn, I was very grateful for the air mattress and sleeping bag at 9 PM. I am so grateful for so many friends who have supported me/us on this pilgrimage/journey for peace.

Report from Day One in Afghanistan

Three Powerful Perspectives on Afghanistan by Steve Clemens. March 18, 2011

I couldn’t afford to give in to jet lag after my arrival in Afghanistan this morning after 3 flights and layovers totaling 40 hours before reaching my floor space in a Kabul office of a small nonprofit human rights organization formed by some very dedicated Afghan women eight months ago. I did nap for about an hour before Hakim showed us a new five minute video he had just created from yesterday’s historic peace walk through the streets of Kabul.

It was a group of more than 20 international nonviolent peace activists and at least a dozen Afghan counterparts that crowded into the 12’ x 16’ office room and overflowed into the adjoining space. After a few minutes for introductions and several more for logistics and a look at the proposed schedule for our week here, Hakim, the mentor, translator, and prime mover of the Afghan Youth Peace Volunteers (AYPV) begins to share about yesterday’s historic event.

About 40 Afghan young people, primarily in their teens and early 20s donned bright blue scarfs and carried banners as the inter-ethnic group marched from the Iranian Embassy to the Embassy for the United Nations in the busy area of central Kabul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uedQzWck7xc
Hakim shows us the video before explaining that “ ‘Peace’ is a dirty word to Afghans”. President Obama won the ‘Peace Prize’ in 2009, the same political leader who has increased the level of foreign military occupiers (both uniformed armed forces as well as ‘contractors’ and other mercenaries under the pay and control of the Pentagon or US State Department). “Peace” is the term used (or more accurately, abused) by everyone to excuse or justify anything. Many, many Afghans have been killed in the name of “peace”.

“We have had non-stop occupation and war; Afghans can’t trust each other because of decades of war”, Hakim tells us. We get a lot of ‘lip-service’ to the causes of peace by others – but then they ‘don’t show up’, he continues. “How do we restore hope; how do we begin to build up trust?” He observes there is not a culture of questioning here in Afghanistan (at least out loud, not in public). “War mongers have misused the word of peace” – to the point there is no trust. It is left to us, foreigners, who must encourage Afghans to find their own voice, this trained Public Health medical doctor from Singapore tells us. He started working in public health with refugees first in Pakistan and then accompanied them back to the Bamiyan area of central Afghanistan 8 years ago when he decided his role to encourage and nurture the ideals of the local young people was more pressing and in line with his deep commitment to Gandhian nonviolence then his medical practice.

“It is easy for politicians to talk about peace – but nothing is working here. Violence is a failing strategy. Every family here has someone who has been killed [in these wars]” – if not in the immediate family, then certainly in the extended one. There is no clear plan by any leader that is nonviolent he laments but goes on to say that there are only two leaders that these young people trust: Malalia Joya, an out-spoken woman activist, and Dr. Ramazon Barshardost, a humanist Member of Parliament who states categorically “It is wrong to kill” but is readily dismissed by many of his compatriots as “the mad (crazy) one.” Joya tells these young people, “If you truly walk this path [of peace and nonviolence], you will be killed one day.” We are told that the US government has just refused to give her a visa to come to the US for a planned speaking trip that was to begin next week.

Three years ago at a college in Bamiyan, Hakim led a 3 month workshop with students and their conclusion was “Peace is not possible in Afghanistan” – so, what do we do? He helped organize an effort to get an inter-ethnic group to live together for a semester and 16 students did. However controversy arose near the end of the time and Hakim started receiving death threats. He spoke to the “authorities”, he traveled from village to village, meeting people and listening. A group of boys coalesced and he helped supervise them in building a peace park in Bamiyan. The boys did a 7 day vigil to try to deliver a peace message to Obama. They recently sent gifts of some things they made to Pashtun people in Kandahar. A gift from some Hazaras and other ethnic tribes to Pashtuns stunned the recipients. “I can’t believe that there can be such love” was one of the responses Hakim heard. [Please go to the AYPV website to learn more about them.]


Zahra Mobtaker, an amazingly strong, 23 year old Afghan woman who spoke out during the peace march shared with us next. As the director of Open Society, a nonprofit working to empower Afghans –“helping ordinary people overcome their fears to give voice to their experiences”, she is focusing on human rights and democracy. She said they quickly found themselves very much alone. They sponsored a festival to help their fellow citizens overcome their fear and speak the truth. She has displayed photos of victims of the wars in gatherings to facilitate conversation about the reality of today’s Afghanistan.

This tiny (25 members) but bold non-profit has helped form a singing group with the intention of bringing a message of peace through song– especially to the many illiterate in the rural villages. They support their work primarily through their own personal funds – recognizing that their “aims might be sidetracked” by outside donors. This is often the reality of many NGOs here in Afghanistan – especially those getting the predominance of their funds from US AID, the UN, or other funding mechanisms tied to governmental agencies or large bureaucracies. (Note: this Open Society has no connection to the George Soros organizations which also take the Open Society moniker.) This group just operates in Kabul and Afghanistan. Open Society has also used film-making as a vehicle for peace and change. “The Night of the Cartoon-makers” used cartoons drawn on walls of public places, including mosques, as an educational tool. They were pleased that many of the cartoons have been “protected” by the people from defacement- a sign of the growing empowerment the group strives for.

They are also using web blogs (www.opensociety.af@blogspot.com) and yesterday’s march was their first public partnership/ joint venture with the AYPV. “Thank you for coming to this exceptionally frightening country”, she told us. We felt her warmth and welcome and we are so grateful for her courage and eloquence.


Our heads and our hearts were already full before the country director from an [unnamed] NGO (non-Governmental Organization) dropped in to meet with us. He was pleasantly surprised to discover one of the international peace delegates he was to address included a Maryknoll priest who he had worked with in Cambodia many years before! The speaker had just joined this work in Afghanistan two months ago and is responsible for their program in 3 of Afghanistan’s northern provinces, Bamiyan, Herat, and Ghor. This organization has a long history in this country and focuses on 4 main program areas: an agriculture-based program in Herat which primarily works with girls and women developing sustainable methods; community-based education with a focus on girls; watershed management featuring gravity-flow spring management and work to prevent run-off and erosion; and emergency work with an aim to transition to sustainable development. This last program entails road construction and road snow clearance, especially the mountain passes which are cleared by shovel under a cash-for-work plan. One critical pass on the national highway between Herat- Bamiyan – Kabul must be cleared in a timely fashion to allow any traffic to flow, getting supplies to remote areas.

This NGO maintains a strict policy and reputation for not proselytizing and they don’t use any armed guards. Their director talked with dismay about the almost complete failure of the US/NATO military forces and privatized “contractors” (he said we call them ‘Beltway Bandits’ referring to the corruption in Washington, DC) to rebuild needed infrastructure. He said the saying among NGOs is “where progress begins, the Taliban ends”, referring to the on-going struggle against forces of fear and repression. However, what this group has observed is with every contract with US AID (Agency for International Development, the “foreign aid” arm of the US State Department), funds are siphoned off in kick-back style payments, even in the written agreement itself. He recommended we read Descent Into Chaos by Hamad Rashad about this practice and lamented that he sees a “perfect storm of US AID, “contractors”, and local corruption” as a spiral leading to frustration, despair, and a culture of corruption which infects most things happening in Afghanistan.

A lot to think about on my first day in the war zone.

How Does One Unpack From War?

How Does One Unpack From War? - Review of Tyler Boudreau’s Packing Inferno by Steve Clemens. August 18, 2009

Ex-Marine Captain Tyler Boudreau begins his excellent book about his experience in the Iraq War by telling his reader that the old canard, “War is hell”, isn’t true. He tells us that war is the foyer to hell; hell is when you come home from war and have to deal with what you’ve done and what you witnessed in war. And while the Marines can teach one how to kill, who helps the veteran learn how to heal?

I had the advantage of hearing Tyler tell his story on a hot Saturday afternoon, August 1, 2009, at Mayday Bookstore in Minneapolis. Tyler was biking from Seattle to Boston, stopping on the way to tell his story as part of a do-it-yourself book tour for his autobiographical Packing Inferno: The Unmaking of a Marine. He had the build and look of a Marine but his affect during his talk was one of urgency within a gentle, earnest-but-caring style. He spoke with conviction - but without the hard edge I’ve experienced with some other vets who’ve returned from this on-going war.

Part of this might be due to the author’s vantage point: as an officer, much of what Captain Boudreau experienced in 2004-05 in Iraq was second hand. He spent more time in command centers writing reports and coordinating activities for his infantry battalion than out on patrol, at roadblock/checkpoints, and house-to-house raids. He participated enough to write about those experiences but he also gained a vantage point one seldom hears about this war.

Let me share just a few of the powerful observations I underlined in my copy of Packing Inferno.

“The civilians were the same as they were, but the Marines [who just returned home] they hugged and kissed were not the men they had once known. … Our identities were altered [by war].”

“I was a rifle company commander. … I didn’t have the capacity to believe – not in that role. To believe that there could be psychological injuries sustained from the violence we inflicted would be to acknowledge its inherent immorality.”

“… desensitization [in one’s training]doesn’t eliminate morality from the consciousness. It merely postpones cogitation. Sooner or later, when a man’s had a chance to think things over, he will find himself standing in judgment before his own conscience. … Soldiers desensitize themselves in war … they must in order to survive … They push the humanity out of the enemy and out of themselves … one’s humanity can be quite difficult to recover once it’s been evicted.”

“... every [combat wound] rates a Purple Heart. Yet never once has a veteran been awarded a Purple Heart for combat stress. … Only through genuine acknowledgment that combat stress is an injury, not a disorder, can we ever give uninhibited affection to our wounded.”

"In 2005, after 12 years of active service in the Marine Corps and with growing reservations about the war, I relinquished command of my rifle company and resigned my commission. It struck me that, in our headlong pursuit to deliver freedom and democracy and to expel an oppressive regime and combat terrorism, we had inadvertently lost sight of the very people we'd been deployed to help."

It wasn’t obvious to me until I heard Tyler Boudreau discuss his book: each of the nine numbered chapters corresponds to one of the nine layers of hell in Dante’s Inferno. Boudreau does point out that the deepest circle or layer of hell is reserved for “traitors” and I found this section of the book most compelling. The first subheading of this chapter is Loyalty. It has always been the mantra of the Marines: “Never leave a brother behind”. Yet, when Boudreau resigned his commission, when his “brothers” were still “in harm’s way”, it was an act of betrayal according to the Marine code. He was a traitor to that system.

In explaining this new growing consciousness within him, Boudreau read from this section of the book. This is the phrase that stuck with me: “Support for the troops can never be exclusively support for the human being inside the uniforms; it must be to some extent, support for the institution inside them as well. Real severance of those two can only be effected by the soldiers themselves. And that can be a lonesome proposition.”

It is readily apparent in his book as well as his personal appearance that Boudreau retains a deep love and compassionate concern about the men he commanded. His resignation from his commission was personal – he could no longer ignore the immorality of the war – but it was also collective: he could not “spend the lives” of the Marines he commanded on a mission which was impossible. He concluded on the basis of his experience (and analysis) that one cannot simultaneously “win the hearts and minds” of the Iraqi people with men who have been trained to resolve “problems” with killing and violence.

It is somewhat ironic that Tyler Boudreau is biking across America as part of his healing therapy from war. The Bush Administration was often fond of using the biking analogy early on in this war: Iraqi democracy is like learning to ride a bike; we have to “keep the training wheels on” for a little while; we then have to be willing to “let go” to allow Iraqi democracy to flourish on its own …

An important insight this book gave me is that vets need to be able to tell their stories without being lionized. Being called a hero does not give a returning vet the space to process and heal from what he might have already rejected and it makes the shame harder to be released. Boudreau credits the anti-war movement and groups like Veterans for Peace with creating the space to tell stories the general public might not want to hear. But if those stories stay bottled up inside, they continue to eat at and destroy the vet holding on to them.

“Either we allow ourselves to feel that veteran’s pain, truly as our own, and share his consternation about war, or, in an effort to support the troops, we deny the significance of his tragedies and, by definition, we deny his pain as well.”

In looking back over the book, it is hard to find consecutive pages that aren’t underlined or highlighted. This book is well written, insightful, and gives the reader a glimpse into the troubled-but-healing soul of an ex-Marine. I read the book over three days while vigiling in front of the Air Force base where the command for all American nuclear weapons occurs. This was over the 64th anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Clearly, Captain Boudreau is not the only one of us who needs healing from the denial and destructiveness of our past – and with him, we need to lay down all our weapons and find a new way to solve the “problems” of our world, this time without the violence which dehumanizes us in the process.

[I recommend you check out the author’s website for other insightful articles at www.tylerboudreau.com ]

Is This Thing Working? Is This Thing On?

Is This Thing Working? Is This Thing On? By Steve Clemens. March 11, 2009

In a recent album, Peace Queer, by singer/songwriter Todd Snider, there is a haunting parable delivered first as a spoken word piece and then sung. It is about a schoolyard bully who repeatedly beats up on younger or smaller kids. One kid decides he’s had enough and tells the bully that if he’s going to beat up someone else, he has to beat him up first! Day after day this boy gets beaten and after a while, the bully tires – it has become a burden to him. There is no more joy in his triumph; it has become a job, a duty. The bully’s admirers, followers slowly desert him. The “victim” has exposed the true nature of the bully.

The spoken word begins with tapping the microphone: “Is this thing working? … Is this thing on?” It is the perennial question of public speakers, entertainers. Is my message getting out? Can you hear me? Is anybody listening? We need feedback from our audience to acknowledge we’ve been heard.

“Is this thing working?” can also be asked of whatever efforts we embark upon. Are we being effective? Is change occurring because of what we’re doing? Does anyone care; does anyone notice? In the story above, the bully’s tactics were no longer working: instead of generating fear, he began to generate disgust. Certainly the parable has application to the on-going occupations of Iraq and Afghanistan and increasingly the answer to the question comes back in the negative – it’s not working. Or at least the desired result, “Shock and Awe” has come back on the imperial bully with a worldwide sense of shame and disgust.

But, let’s ask the question of our own “work”. This morning 13 of us stood for an hour on the sidewalk in minus 12 degree weather. That’s before you add in the wind chill factor. It was so cold the cops (who are paid by the weapons manufacturer to “monitor” our presence by their driveway entrance) quickly went back to their heated vehicles as soon as our vigil group “circled up”. [Each week, as we have done for the past 13 years, we stand with signs, flags, and banners in front of the corporate headquarters of Alliant Techsystems, Minnesota’s largest war profiteer. We sometimes march on the sidewalk, parade across the driveway entrance, or merely chat amongst ourselves hoping to be “present” to the ATK employees arriving to their workplace. At 7:30 AM, we “circle-up” and, after repeating our “Commitment to Practice Nonviolence”, we go around the circle to share concerns, announcements, or whatever is on the hearts and minds of the viligers.]

As I’ve said, we’ve been doing this for 13 years! Is this thing working? Is this thing on? Are we being heard? Is our “message” being heard? Has anyone quit their job making cluster bombs, landmines, depleted uranium weapons because of our presence? Have large stockholders divested themselves of the spoils of war and conflict? Has ATK become a pariah within the community to the extent that individuals are ashamed to let it be known that they work there? Is this thing [our vigiling] working?

Let’s frame the question another way. What if there was a company in your neighborhood that consistently produced a product that poisoned others, or caused serious injury or death when their product was used or consumed. Would you want people to ignore it and let it continue to operate unmolested? Or would you want at least a few people to occasionally (or regularly) to hold up signs in protest, occasionally sit in the driveway or in front of the company entrances to obstruct “business as usual”? If your kids, or family members, or friends, or neighbors were the victims of this corporate abuse, would you feel comforted knowing that no one cares enough to protest, however meekly?

Some members of our AlliantACTION vigil group want to explore finding ways to sue the company for violating International Law in their profiting from the sale of indiscriminate weapons which have been regularly outlawed by the international community. Others have bought a symbolic share of stock (1 each) in order to attend the annual stockholders meeting – but they’ve been stymied each of the past three years when they have been arrested when they try to attend the shareholders meeting with their written invitations in hand! [When they go to court to face the trespass charge, it is finally dismissed and they don’t even get a chance to be heard in court.]

What would happen if, instead of 13, we had 130? 1,300? (Normally we average between 20-50 so this weeks numbers were unusually low.) Maybe we all can’t travel to Eden Prairie, MN each week to add our “No!” to Alliant Tech. What if all those with a conscience took it upon themselves to find one corporation or institution in your own community, a place where wars are planned, the poor and vulnerable are crushed, people are routinely marginalized. Places where, for Christians, Jesus is re-crucified on a daily basis. Maybe you can make this your Lenten discipline – it might become a weekly habit.

One certainly does not have to be a Christian to have a conscience! In fact it is refreshing that there are still some who are willing to identify at all with an institution (the Christian Church) which itself has often sponsored or encouraged such marginalization. Our AlliantACTION group includes atheists, pagans, agnostics, Muslims, Christians, Jews. We may differ on theologies but we agree that what goes on behind the closed doors of ATK must be resisted. We take our pledge of nonviolence as a self and group discipline to not let our anger at injustice cloud our judgment and get in the way of calling those workers to live up to acting as humans rather than making inhumane weapons.

Is this thing working? Can you hear us? Do you care? Will you join us – or find your own time and place to reassert your own humanity by saying “no” in a public way?

Today I Voted For Peace. 2006

Today I Voted For Peace
By Steve Clemens. September 2006

Today I voted for peace: I mailed my absentee ballot with an X by the candidate who calls us to bring the troops home NOW! (Keith Ellison).

On Primary Election Day (Sept. 12), I will be voting for peace by walking for prisoners. The Prison and Jail Project in Americus, GA is sponsoring the annual 100 mile FreedomWalk to raise awareness for and of the people in jails and prisons in southwest Georgia. My vote (walk) for peace is a call to stop demonizing and instead work for healing, restitution, and reconciliation rather than punitive punishments.

I voted for peace when I traveled to Iraq in December 2002, three months before this new manifestation of war against the Iraqi people which really has been on-going since the economic sanctions were put in place in 1990 and the bombing began in earnest on Dr. King’s birthday (oh, the irony!) in 1991.

I voted for peace when I spent 20 years of my life helping organizations build affordable housing for families in need. There is no peace (certainly not the SHALOM the scriptures call for) when people are hungry, homeless, or in need.

I vote for peace every Wednesday morning when I join 30-50 others in a vigil outside the entrance to a company that profits by making weapons of war and indiscriminate destruction. Alliant TechSystems must not be allowed to make such weapons such as cluster bombs, land mines, and depleted uranium munitions without our voicing our “vote” of NO!

I voted for peace when I joined millions of other citizens around the world on a February Saturday in 2003, marching in the streets saying a war on Iraq will not heal the wounds and scars of 9/11. Voting in the street is an important part of informing our public policy-makers.

I voted for peace when I crawled under the chain-link fence “protecting” Fort Benning from the 19,000 peaceful demonstrators calling for the closure of the School of the Americas and I again voted for peace when I walked willingly into the Federal Prison in Duluth this past spring to “serve” my three month sentence. Hopefully, that kind of vote can let my “representatives” know without any doubt about the seriousness of my convictions (pun intended).

I voted for peace when I purchased a hybrid car in order to consume fewer of our earth’s dwindling natural resources – certainly one of the more significant causes of war in our world today.

I voted for peace when I submitted my application as a conscientious objector in 1968 to the war on Indochina and voted again for peace in 1974 when arrested at the White House calling for our government to honor the Peace Agreement we signed.

I voted for peace when I attended the installation of a lesbian minister in a local Lutheran Church several years ago, signaling that my vote for peace is also a vote to not allow those considered “different“ in our society to be marginalized and discriminated against without my protest.

I vote for peace when I make my financial donations to the Center for Victims of Torture, The Nonviolent Peaceforce and the Christian Peacemaker Teams, Mennonite Central Committee, Jubilee Partners and The Open Door Community, and numerous other groups working to feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, visit the prisoners, heal the sick, perform the “works of mercy” and work for reconciliation and justice.

I take my vote seriously but I don’t confuse my marking an X beside a candidate’s name as fulfilling my political duty. My electoral vote might be the least significant of the many other opportunities I have been given to “vote” with my body, my time, and my money. Until politicians know we will back up our votes with our lives, they will not need to take us or our “politics” very seriously.