Day one, we donned orange jumpsuits. Our march leader, Carmen was dressed in army fatigues and barked out orders to us detainees. “Detainees form up two by two.” “Put on your hoods.” One hundred of us lined up to march to the White house for the opening Press Conference. From the first steps we took together, heads bowed, covered in back hoods and hands behind our backs, we walked in eerie silence.
A nation of laws, I was taught, followed its laws no matter what. Until now. Post 9-11 we have abandoned our rule of law to incarcerate men, 89 of whom our investigators have deemed “ready to release.” But they remain held illegally. We heard the names of the “men under the hoods,” and we shared their stories. I, like many, were moved by peace poet, Luke Nephew’s poem “There is a man under that hood.” Not a number, not “a detainee” but a man with a name and a family, and once upon a time, a country.
We stood at attention for the news conference and then began our march to the Department of Justice, a silent, solemn, anonymous witness through the streets of the nation’s capital in a lightly falling snow. Outside the DOJ, sixty of our hooded number blocked the entrance to the building, risking arrest. After calling for busses to carry off the protesters, there appeared to be a sudden change in plan and no one was arrested. A voice from inside building reported to us the White House did not want any arrests. They wanted no more attention to their sins against humanity than our silent presence brought.
I’ve been to many protests in the last 35 years, but I was profoundly moved by wearing the hood and jumpsuit. As light as the hood was, I struggled to breathe. I was ashamed of how long it took me to stand against this injustice. I was, and am ashamed of us as a nation; both for our rejection of law in the name of ‘homeland security’ and for our apathy in the face of such blatant human rights abuses “in our name.”
I knew I was only there for two days, fasting, marching in the cold, sleeping on the floor in a church. The men in Guantanamo don’t even have the “luxury” of sentences so that they could count down the days remaining. They are being held indefinitely, illegally and immorally.
The young folks who organized the protest give me hope. Frida’s father and uncle wrote the books that I read in 1970 as a college freshman that began the change in my outlook from the Goldwater republican I was raised to be. Matt grew up in the same exclusive suburban town where we raised our kids and where I still live. And the White Rose folks in DC from Chicago: Jon, Amy, Jerica and Jake (who urged me to come to DC), continue to challenge me and inspire hope that we can indeed live by another way…a way of love and nonviolence that offers hope of true peace.
The hope they inspire is not for the future of this country. The intransigence we witnessed demonstrates no willingness to change. But there are people, young and old who know what it takes to live in peace and to create communities of welcome. They will be light in the dark years to come.
” The people who live in darkness have seen a great light,
On those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has risen.
From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say, “Repent, for the kindom of God is at hand.” Mt. 4:16-17
If you would, find here the open letter by Witness against Torture to the Attorney General. I invite you to use it to join me in crafting your own letter to Mr. Obama and to Mr. Holder. Tell them to put politics aside, embrace human rights and the law of our land and put an end to this injustice. Close Guantanamo now. Give them trials or set them free.
For more details about the organization and the Fast and Vigil, visit the WAT website.