Back to Iraq

I received the following missive from Monona peace activist Joy First describing her recent experiences protesting the Iraq War in Washington. Take some time to read Joy's message on this the last day of the first five years of this war.


Ghosts of the Iraq War Action in the Senate Gallery
Joy First March 17, 2008

I went to Washington, DC on Monday March 10, 2008 to participate in the “Ghosts of War” action on March 12. This was a planned action of nonviolent civil resistance, following the nonviolent principles of Gandhi and Martin Luther King, organized by the National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance. The plan was to do this action in the Senate gallery where we could directly address the Senators, demanding that they stop funding the war. All of us who would participate have spent hundreds of hours calling, writing, and visiting our Senators and Representatives asking them to end the funding for the war. We have participated in marches and rallies, written letters to the editor, talked to families and friends, and taken many “legal” actions to try to end the war and occupation of Iraq.

I knew that by participating in the “Ghosts of War” action, I would be risking arrest and could face jail time. I knew I would likely at least be held overnight because I had a pending case, a trial in May for an action on January 11 at the US Supreme Court with Witness Against Torture. I am on 6-month probation from a September 20, 2007 action in the crypt of the Capitol, with a 10-day suspended jail sentence for that action, so I knew could potentially be a longer stay in jail.

The night before I left for Washington, my husband Steve and I were lying in bed and talking about what I would be doing. We were both feeling very sad that I had to leave again. I said that I hoped he understood why I had to do this. He said he did. He also said that he hoped that others really understood that I didn’t do this because I want to get arrested. He said that he knew that what I was doing was right, and that I shouldn’t get arrested for it. I thought, wow, he almost gets it better than I do. I continue to carefully think about my work, and slowly, layer by layer, I am coming to a deeper understanding of what I do and why. What I am doing, speaking out against an illegal and immoral war is not breaking the law. What I am doing is right, and I should not be arrested for it. We must do everything we can, nonviolently working for peace. As my actions continue to become more difficult and the risks continue to become greater, I am feeling more committed than ever to continuing this work.

I arrived in DC late Monday afternoon and went to a nonviolence training for the Stop-Loss Congress group at St. Stephen’s Church that evening. Stop-Loss Congress is a group of mostly young adults in their early 20s, many who are doing nonviolent resistance for the first time. There were about 50 young people at the training and it was so good to see these young people with all their positive energy getting involved in activism. The government continues to deliver stop-loss orders to members of the military in Iraq, telling them they cannot go home even though their contract with the military has expired. These brave young people were going to deliver stop-loss orders to all members of Congress, telling them they could not take breaks or vacations until all the troops were safely home.

On Tuesday, I met with aides in the offices of Rep. Tammy Baldwin and Senators Russ Feingold and Herb Kohl and talked to them about what it would take to bring the war to an end. I continue to be extremely frustrated with Senator Kohl as he continues to vote to fund the war. I joined the young people in delivering the Stop-Loss order to Nancy Pelosi’s office and was so impressed by them and honored to be with them.

About eight of us from the National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance met on Tuesday night at St. Stephen’s Church to discuss the “Ghosts of War” action. Linda brought cheesecloth that we would be using for a head covering during the action. The cloth was cut into squares and distributed. We talked about details of the action. We expected about 10 people to participate in the action and risk arrest, all of us seasoned activists who have done this kind of thing before.

On Wednesday morning, March 12, those involved in the “Ghosts of War” action met at 11:00 am at Union Station to finalize plans. After working through final details, we dispersed to take care of personal matters and then met up again at Upper Senate Park at about 12:30 or so. We walked across the street to the Capitol in groups of two or three with our Senate gallery passes in hand. We did not want to arrive in a large group and arouse suspicion as we went through security at the Capitol.

It is always very stressful when we have to go through security for an action. I know that what I am doing is right. I know that I am nonviolent and not there to hurt anyone. But I always feel very nervous about getting in so that I can participate in the action. During the action, we would have to quickly take the cheesecloth out of our pocket, get it over our head, stand up, and get our message out before the police stopped us. The cheesecloth was very sticky, difficult to open up, and I was worried about getting it all done.

Maria and I successfully made it into the Senate gallery, and sat down together. Senator Ted Kennedy was speaking when we arrived. I think there were about 5-10 senators on the floor. We looked around and were reassured to see others from our group.

At somewhere around 2:00 pm, Eve stood up, put the shroud over her head and announced that she was a ghost of the Iraq war and said that she wanted the unnecessary killing to stop. She demanded that the Senate stop funding the war.

Then Tim stood up with the shroud over his head, giving the same message, and then Max stood and spoke. Maria and I both stood almost together and said that we were a ghost from the Iraq war , that the war was wrong and we had to stop killing innocent people. The others, Ellen, Linda, Art, Manijeh, and Judith also stood and spoke. Ten of us were arrested in the gallery.

The acoustics are incredible in the Senate chamber and our voices were loud and clear. Senator Blanche Lincoln was on the floor speaking about funding to help the vets when they came home when Eve stood and began the action by standing and speaking. Everyone on the floor stopped dead and all eyes were on us as the action continued. The Sergeant at Arms shouted to restore order in the gallery. We were there trying to restore order in Iraq by stopping the illegal occupation. As we began speaking, many other visitors in the gallery began clapping for us.

The police came and took us by the arm and led us out of the gallery as we continued to speak out against the war. We were lined up in the hallway outside the gallery and still continued to speak. The police were trying to keep the press away from us. Max said that we were with the National Campaign for Nonviolent Resistance and he asked others to join us. We were handcuffed and taken down the elevator. As I was led out on the main floor, I continued to speak as we passed many tourists and Senate staff people. I said that we should not be arrested for what we had done, that Bush was the real criminal and should be in jail. I said we must stop funding the war and occupation that is killing so many innocent people. I heard others also continuing to speak and get our message out as they were led through the Capitol building in handcuffs.

We were taken to the main Capitol police station and I saw familiar faces there, officers that I remembered from previous arrests. There is an officer, Officer Wilson, that I have had several conversations with and he jokingly welcomed me back, said he was sorry to see me back, but also that he understands why I need to do this.

We were only in handcuffs for about thirty minutes. The processing and paperwork takes an incredibly long time. I was in a room with a young officer about the age of my own children. We talked a lot about the war and why I needed to do this. I told him that all my children were very proud of what I was doing. I asked him how he would feel if his mom did this, and he said she would probably join us. Officer Wilson came in and told me that the computer check showed I had a pending case and was on probation so I would be held overnight. He asked why a nice lady like me had to keep putting herself in this difficult situation. I told him why and he said he knows, but he just wishes I could stay home with my kids and grandkids. How can I do that when I know what’s going on and I know I have a responsibility to do everything I can to stop it?

We meet many officers who seem like kind and caring people, who seem to understand what we are doing and why. We are also in contact with some officers who are not very nice at all. It is a complicated relationship between us and the officers. There can be kind individuals, but the system they are involved in is corrupt. To understand what is going on it helps me to think about living in a patriarchal system where women are oppressed on so many levels. So, though there are many good men who I know and love, I still live in this oppressive patriarchal system, and it is very hurtful to me. In the same way, there are some good police officers, but they are involved in a system that is corrupt, that is hurtful and oppressive because one person has power over another person.

After processing, the seven women who were arrested were put in a holding cell together for a few hours. At about 9:00 pm, Ellen, Linda, and I were called. We were cuffed again, put in the back of a police van, and driven to Central Lockup. It took about an hour to get us fingerprinted and get our mug shots. We were offered a baggie with a bologna sandwich and a processed cheese sandwich and a glass of a sugary drink and taken upstairs to our cells.

I hadn’t had anything since breakfast and I hungrily ate the 2 pieces of white bread with the processed cheese and drank the juice. I gave the other sandwich to my new roommate. She was a 26 year-old African American woman, pregnant for the 7th time. Three of her children died at birth, and the three surviving children were living with her foster mother. Monique told me she was in jail charged with burglary after being found sleeping in an abandoned building. We talked for about an hour and then she went to sleep. I climbed onto the top bunk and tried to rest. We had a bare metal slab to sleep on with no mattress, blanket, or pillow. At least it was warm and I could take off my jacket and use that for a pillow. I drifted in and out of sleep all night long. The bright lights are kept on all night and every hour or so, the guards would walk through the cellblock shouting out something to someone.

The only way you know what time it is, is if you ask a guard and they tell you. At about 5:30 in the morning, the guard brought another baggie with two sandwiches and a glass of the sugary drink. I gave my bologna sandwich to Monique because I don’t eat meat. I told myself I should try to eat the other sandwich because it would likely be the only food I would get until I got out of jail later in the day. I took one bite and I just couldn’t eat any more, but I did force myself to drink.

At about 7:00 am, they took us out of our cells to take us over to the courthouse for our arraignment. I saw Ellen, Linda, and Eve, and we wondered where the other three women were. We had heard their voices late the night before, but we hadn’t seen them since we were all in a cell together at the Capitol police station. We also wondered where the three men were, but knew it was less likely we would see them because the men and women are carefully separated once arrested.

At the courthouse, we were shackled around our ankles, as we walked to a holding cell. The federal marshals yelled at us to walk with our hands behind our backs. Ellen, Linda, and I were put in a cell with about 15-20 African-American women. Eve was in a cell across the hallway from us. It was then that I started hearing more stories about why the women were there. For so many of them, they were there for crimes of survival, stealing money for food, stealing money for drugs so they could self-medicate because their lives felt so hopeless. Many of them had a long history of abuse. It was there that I thought about all the work we need to do on reforming our system. Most of the women there are stuck in a system that does not support them and does not give them any way out. My cellmate, Monique, had told me that while she was pregnant, she was not allowed in the homeless shelter or in the drug programs. There has to be a better and more humane way to take care of our brothers and sisters caught in a cycle of poverty and prison.

Soon after we were put in the holding cell, jail staff asked us to provide a urine sample. Ellen, Linda, and I refused. All of the other women complied because they are lied to by the jail staff and told they must do it, that they would get out sooner if they did. The twenty of us were then moved to another holding area and we didn’t see Eve again until about 4:00 that afternoon.

I could hardly walk because of the shackles around my ankles that were painfully digging into my ankle bones. Our new location did not have a toilet. The next several hours dragged by painfully slow. We were denied food and water during the day and had limited access to a toilet. In order to go to the bathroom, we had to get the attention of a federal marshal and a female marshal would take us to a cell with a metal toilet. There is no privacy when you go to the bathroom while in jail. I went to the bathroom at 6:00 that morning and then not again until 2:00 pm. As I walked back to the holding cell, I asked the guard if he could loosen my shackles because they were very painful. He just said it wouldn’t help and told me to get into the cell.

We had a long day to share our stories about our activism with our fellow inmates and to hear their stories. We tried to keep our spirits up and support each other as we anxiously awaited our time before the judge. We were able to peek into an office across the hallway and see a clock. It was nice to be able to know the time throughout the day. As has become the pattern in DC courts for the peace activists to be the last ones brought before the judge to be arraigned. It was 7:00 pm before we were called.

The federal marshals took us down the hallway to the courtroom, yelling at us to keep our hands behind our back. I walked slowly and painfully as the shackles cut into my ankles after over 10 hours of wearing them. Again, it was such a surreal experience walking from the jail hallway into the courtroom. Everything is grey and dirty in jail. It’s like walking from black and white into color.

Later Malachy told me that there were three marshals in the courtroom all day, but when they brought us in, there were seven marshals. Is that because we are so dangerous? The marshals yelled at us to keep our hands behind our back and not to look at the spectators. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see many friends and supporters sitting in the courtroom giving us the peace sign. Tears of relief and comfort fell. The marshals told our supporters to put their hands down or they would be put out of the courtroom. Eve, Ellen, Linda, and I stood facing the judge. The marshals formed a wall behind us so that our friends could not see us. I was feeling very anxious wondering if I would be held over, but also remembering why I continue to do this work in spite of the risks.

We were in front of Judge McCarthy who I have been in front of a number of times in the past. He is generally fair and somewhat sympathetic to our cause. I thought there was a possibility I could be released that night. The government prosecutor asked the judge that the four of us all be held over in jail. The judge refused this request. We pled not guilty and were given a date for a status hearing and a stay-away order from all of Capitol Hill. He then sternly admonished us, saying that if it would have been any other judge in the courthouse, it would have been a different outcome and we would have been held over. He said that we had been doing this long enough and we had gotten our message out. He said that we would have to stop or the system would eat us up.

The marshals unlocked our shackles and we were free to go after signing papers to return for the status hearing on May 27. The matter of breaking my probation is still unresolved. A notice was sent to Judge Keary, and I may hear that I must return to DC to deal with that.

I went out into the sweet and loving arms of the community waiting for us there in the courtroom. I was shocked when I began to hear and realize that six of the ten arrested were released at about midnight the night before. All day we assumed they were somewhere in jail, and it felt like my sense of reality was turned upside down. There seemed to be no reason they were released and we weren’t, but I was glad we all didn’t have to spend the night in jail. Some of the ones released were also on probation and had pending cases, and so you can never predict what will happen.

My friend Malachy was our jail support person and I found out that the Capitol Police and the Metropolitan Police at Central Lockup lied to him the night before and told him they had no idea where we were. Malachy called them several times and went to the stations in person to try and make sure we were there and that we were ok, but he could not get any information. At 7:30 am on Thursday morning Malachy was able to get in touch with Ann Wilcox, an attorney who supports us. She called the jail, and they immediately told Ann where we were, and Malachy could finally know we were safe.

Judge McCarthy’s remarks telling us that we had to stop doing this or the system would eat us up have been bothering me. He has no right to tell us to stop speaking out against the war and occupation. It is my patriotic duty to continue to do this work. Innocent people are still suffering and dying everyday in Iraq. I cannot and will not stop. The Nuremberg Principles state that we must speak out when our government is acting illegally. I believe that what I am doing is right and just. What I am doing is upholding the law. The real criminals who are responsible for the death of over a million people are walking free while those of us willing to demand an end to the injustice are locked in jail. What kind of world are we leaving for our children and for their children?

Right now we have a system where we are wrongfully arrested as we attempt to hold our government accountable and uphold international law, such as the Nuremberg Principles and the United Nations Charter. We are painfully handcuffed and shackled, and deprived of sleep, food, and water. We are dehumanized as we are called by numbers rather than by our names. The important thing to me is to keep pushing – to continue the resistance and let our government know we will not accept their actions, we demand that they stop breaking the law. We are arrested for upholding the law, but George Bush is the one who should be arrested for genocide and tried at The Hague.

What continues to drive me is the incredible human suffering that our government is causing. The mainstream media does not show us what is really going on, but we can look at alternative media sources on the internet and see what is happening in Iraq. We can listen to the brave soldiers who spoke out during Winter Soldier and understand the horrible depravity of what our government is doing. We, the people are the only ones who can bring a change. We must act.

I am doing the only thing that I can do. Once you know, you can’t not know, and you must act. I must continue this work in speaking out strongly against my government’s actions. I could not sleep at night, and I could not live with myself if I did not. Please, anyone who reads this, please think seriously of joining those of us who are nonviolently resisting the actions of our government. If the people would rise up against the government, and demand change, and take risks for change, then I believe change would come.

A quote by peace activist Daniel Berrigan continues to inspire me:
We have assumed the name of peacemaker, but we have been, by and large unwilling to pay any significant price. And because we want peace with half a heart and half a life and will, the war of course, continues, because the waging of war, by its nature, is total, but the waging of peace, by our own cowardice, is partial….We cry peace and cry peace and there is not peace.
There is no peace because the making of peace is at least as costly as the making of war, at least as exigent, at least as disruptive, at least as liable to bring disgrace, prison, and death in it wake.

There is a youtube video from C-span of the action in the Senate gallery at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8BsJdy11Fc