Waging Peace in the Streets

President Bush just announced an ultimatum for Saddam Hussein to leave Iraq under threat of imminent war. The United States will most likely drop bombs over Iraq in a matter of hours. Those who oppose the war have two options: stay inside and watch the video-game version of the war on your television screen or take to the streets.

I choose the streets.

Before Iraq entered my daily life, I did not understand street protests. People waving signs, chanting in unison, and getting arrested frightened me. Even when I strongly opposed post-9/11 policies of the Bush administration-become-empire, I shied away from the streets and expressed my politics through academic scholarship. I documented hate crimes and the loss of civil liberties and communicated my studies through formal speeches and papers written in my dorm room. But war drums grew louder and louder, shook the glass bubble around my elite university, and made me feel more and more disempowered.

So I took a leap of faith. Together with other Stanford students, I entered the streets of San Francisco to support and witness civil disobedience. I joined the nonviolent direct action movement against the war as a legal observer, someone who documents and protects against police brutality.

I marched with protestors who blocked the Pacific Stock Exchange (Friday March 14), ran with the breakaway march down Market Street (Saturday March 15), and photographed people in white body bags who dropped to the asphalt in front of the UK consulate office (Monday March 17). I witnessed dozens upon dozens of arrests, documented several incidences of police mistreatment, and danced to the people’s songs: Nine eleven and Iraq: no connection, don’t attack! Not in our name, Not for our sake! Solidarity now!

On my first direct action at the Pacific Stock Exchange, I met the eyes of an elderly woman sitting in the middle of the intersection. She was blocking a section of the San Francisco financial district; when the bombing begins, she will join thousands in shutting down all of it. Surrounded by police officers, the woman linked arms with the man next to her and raised her voice to the music: This is what democracy looks like!

How can breaking the law and blocking traffic be democracy? When the government fails to seriously recognize world opinion or national dissent, when the people cannot vote on a preemptive war and do not want an unjust war, democracy means speaking out and standing out. It means finding courage to stand for convictions. It is a civic duty. On that street, this woman stood and refused to move.

Her arrest made an impact. Joining hundreds of people, she stalled business for large American businesses, representatives of business, and corporations that profit most from the war machine. She expressed her stance against the war in the strongest nonviolent way possible and attracted media attention to the peace movement. While she upset some people bent on getting to work on time, she inspired so many more with creative, positive, and joyous energy.

Most importantly, she upraised a collective message: We will not allow business to continue while the administration kills people like you and me in our name, for our sake. We will exact a price, and in doing so, we will raise our voices so that you hear them.

I suddenly understood. Nonviolent civil disobedience has power and celebration rushing through its veins, beats in the people like one gigantic heart, bleeding for peace. It is the most powerful and direct way to make a political statement. Media reports often convey the dramatic spectacles of dissenters rather than the solidarity and purpose kindling the fire of their resistance. I bore witness to this fire, and to my surprise, found deep connection and real empowerment. Even after Bush’s ultimatum, I have never felt more empowered in my life.

How is it empowering to protest when our government will bomb Iraq anyway? History has proven the power in Gandhi’s ahimsa movement, King’s civil rights marches and sit-ins, and the anti-Vietnam war protests. Although it took years for peoples’ voices to stop social injustice and transform our culture, Britain did leave India, African Americans were granted equal rights, and the Vietnam war ended. When people gave their hearts, minds, and bodies to the cause, they had power. Even though it took time for systemic change, they won because they cried over and over again: PEACE.

The United States’ war against Iraq will add a horrendous chapter to a history of violence against countries that do not surrender to our interests. As the world’s only superpower, the U.S. will likely continue to violate human rights and civil rights domestically and abroad under the cover-all banner of the war on terrorism. Yet people around the globe are rising up through peace marches, performances, candlelight vigils, and civil disobedience. As the U.S. government wages war, we are waging peace.

We will wage peace even as the bombs drop and continue to wage peace after this round of bombing ends, because the war will continue in many guises in Iraq and beyond. We can only win if we give ourselves wholly to the cause. Marching, speaking, writing, shouting, crying, dancing, singing, and resisting. It’s a simple sacrifice: getting arrested for nonviolent civil disobedience usually results in a citation and some hours in jail with newfound friends. As war and resistance escalate, the consequences will get worse. It won’t always be such a party. Yet this single action can attract national attention, impact those businesses and institutions that profit from war, and convey our vision to the world.

There is hope on our side. We have protested and resisted before the war has even started, a testament to our power to swiftly mobilize and shake our institutions. Now as the war begins, we must choose whether or not to fight the values that make our lives worth living. Wage peace with us. Visit Actagainstwar.org and other sites for peacemamking. Choose the streets.

PEACE.