Tactics shift as protest
swells
By PATRICK MARRIN
Special to the National Catholic Reporter Columbus,
Ga.
Lil Corrigan was back in Columbus,
Ga., this year, older and wiser at 75, clutching a light blue stole over her
small shoulders to give her the courage she had prayed for last year when she
watched 600 other protesters get arrested for marching into Fort Benning to
denounce the School of the Americas.
This year, Corrigan -- and 2,319 of the total 7,000 protesters --
were ready to cross the line and be arrested in defiance of a federal law
banning partisan political speech on a military installation.
The movement to close the School of the Americas began in 1990
with a 35-day fast by 10 protesters. It lingered on over subsequent years as
barely publicized acts of nonviolent resistance by a determined but small group
of opponents. In recent years it has become a rapidly growing, broad coalition
of peace and justice advocates committed to returning each year in ever greater
numbers until the School of the Americas is closed.
While the SOA protest has grown, so has the battle for media spin
and tactical high ground between SOA Watch organizers and the Army. In the
flurry of maneuvers leading up to the protest vigil, Gen. Glenn Weidner,
commander of the school, first accepted an invitation from students at nearby
Columbus State University to debate SOA Watch founder Maryknoll Fr. Roy
Bourgeois Nov. 10. Weidner withdrew on the eve of the highly publicized
confrontation, rescheduling his own appearance at an Army-sponsored event set
for Saturday, Nov. 21, at the same time as the SOA Watch vigil. Bourgeois
rejected the last-minute change as lacking ordinary Southern courtesy. Local
media called the Armys move a transparent ploy.
And when Army buses arrived to take protesters to the rescheduled
debate, Bourgeois had a surprise of his own, offering, unsuccessfully, to send
several symbolic coffins to represent the vigil.
There would be more surprises. The stole Lil Corrigan wore this
year bore the name of Mary Trotochaud, a 48-year-old activist from Atlanta, now
serving a 14-month sentence in federal prison for trespass at Fort Benning
during previous protests.
But the outcome would be different for those who committed civil
disobedience this year. Corrigan trespassed onto the military base Sunday
morning with 2,319 others but was then set free. In the face of such
overwhelming numbers, the Army decided not to charge any of the violators,
including some 70 who had anguished over expected prison terms for entering the
fort a second time. The tactic was not without some success in throwing the
carefully prepared protesters off balance into what one described as a state of
both relief and puzzlement.
Bourgeois, who has gone to prison seven times for opposing U.S.
policy in Latin America, quickly sought to refocus the protest after the march
and asked those who felt some letdown to accept the feeling of powerlessness as
part of their solidarity with those in Latin America who suffer routinely under
authority applied in arbitrary and unpredictable ways.
Back next year
If the school is still open, we want you to come back next
year and bring a friend, Bourgeois said. We are going to keep
coming back as long as it takes.
The SOA, dubbed the School of Assassins throughout Latin America,
is a U.S.-funded Army facility where soldiers from 22 Latin American countries
receive combat training. The Army says the school, founded in 1946 in Panama
and moved to Fort Benning in 1984, is a necessary extension of U.S. policy in
Latin America, first to fight communism and now to fight drugs.
Opponents of the school say that among the 60,000 graduates of the
school over its 50-year existence are some 600 soldiers who can be directly
tied to some of the worst human rights atrocities in the region. SOA graduates
include 10 Latin American dictators and other high-ranking officers responsible
for rape, torture, murder and drug-trafficking. Many of these committed crimes
after leaving the school. Some known abusers have been invited to the school as
speakers and special guests or are honored in its Hall of Fame, a gallery of
portraits inside the facility. At least three officers who served on the SOA
faculty have been cited for human rights abuses in Latin America.
The annual protest at Fort Benning recalls the Nov. 16, 1989,
murders of six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter at the Jesuit
University in San Salvador. According to a U.N. Truth Commission report, 19 of
the 26 soldiers implicated in the assault were SOA graduates, including the
senior officer who planned the murders.
SOA graduates have been linked to the 1980 rape and murder of four
American church women, the 1980 assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero, the
massacre of over 900 people in the village of El Mozote, El Salvador, and the
genocidal war waged in Guatemala against indigenous peoples that claimed
200,000 lives.
A symbolic funeral procession into the fort carries symbolic
coffins and small white crosses bearing the names of thousands of victims of
violence in Latin America.
SOA Watch now maintains a permanent vigil at the main gate of Fort
Benning. Bourgeois, a Vietnam veteran who spent five years as a missionary in
Bolivia, has lived in a small apartment near the gate since 1990.
This years three-day vigil included speakers from several
Latin American countries, who had themselves been victims of or lost relatives
at the hands of SOA graduates. Throughout the weekend, musicians and speakers
offered words of encouragement to those considering taking part in
Sundays march. Training sessions were held for protesters who planned to
join the procession.
For the first time the demonstration drew busloads of high school
students. They added to the college-age and young adults whose growing presence
has replenished both numbers and hope for the graying ranks of nuns, priests,
ministers and full-time activists who have carried the SOA cause from the
beginning. Ball caps and colored hair, fresh faces -- some pierced -- showed
that reinforcements had arrived. Jesuit activist Fr. John Dear looked out at
the crowd and said: People ask what happened to the old peace movement.
Its here.
Another veteran protester said, Thank God. The median age of
this movement just dropped about 20 years.
For all the careful planning, this years vigil had moments
many saw as signs of higher support. During a blessing ceremony at the end of
Saturdays events, singers and drummers from a South Dakota delegation of
Lakota Sioux summoned their ancestors from the four winds, and speakers tied
the fate of indigenous peoples in Central America to the suffering of the
Native Americans in the United States. One of the leaders told the crowd:
We are here to join hands with you. We will close the School of the
Americas. There is no doubt about it. As he finished his remarks, a huge
formation of birds flew over the crowd.
Sheen fulfills promise
Actor and longtime peace activist Martin Sheen, fulfilling a
personal promise to Bourgeois, arrived in Columbus on Sunday to lead the
procession. I am here first to save my own soul, he told a group of
reporters before mounting the platform to address the crowd.
Basic human rights are not given by a gracious state but
flow abundantly from a loving creator, Sheen told the gathering.
Solidarity with the poor and with victims of injustice is what makes us
human.
Sheen told NCR that he had been personally contacted by the
base commander and asked not to take part in the protest. The commander offered
him, instead, a tour of the school. Sheen said he would gladly accept the offer
if the commander would accompany him to El Salvador to witness what he has
witnessed there.
As the time for the procession approached, Bourgeois told the
crowd that this was a sacred moment, made meaningful by their solidarity with
the victims of SOA violence.
We are here to honor our brothers and sisters in Latin
America who have been made to suffer at the hands of graduates of this school,
to speak for those whose voices have been taken away, who have been
silenced.
Some 20 protesters who had only recently been released from
prison, offered a short commissioning ritual for this years procession,
led by Sheen and Sr. Jackie Doepker, a Franciscan from Tiffin, Ohio, about to
make her second trespass.
As the procession moved deeper onto the base, 26 buses, their
engines running, lined both sides of the road about a half mile inside the
forts main entrance. As the front of the procession met a dozen armed
Department of Defense Police Officers and a swarm of reporters, Sheen said,
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and extended his hand to a
startled officer, who offered his own hand in a latex glove and shook
Sheens.
As the arrest process began, row after row of marchers advanced
peacefully to be put on the buses. Outnumbering police and Army personnel
100-to-one, the protesters effectively policed themselves during the three-hour
arrest process.
Prepared for only 1,000 violators, buses made two trips each to
carry the mile-long procession first through the base and then, in a surprise
move, off the base again to a city park about a mile from the main gate.
As it became clear that no one was being detained, the marchers
waited quietly to be carried off the base.
This is chaos, said one soldier, who asked not to be
identified. Another soldier seemed stunned by the news that after the long
standoff, no one was going to be charged for violating the no trespass
rule.
Fort Benning officials proclaimed victory. Public Affairs Officer
Monica Manganaro said that Maj. Gen. Carl Ernst had made the decision that
morning not to process anyone after assessing the size of the protest.
A lucky day
The commander has broad prerogatives to enforce the
exclusion rule in varying degrees. He chose this course of action in a spirit
of good will and cooperation with the protesters, Manganaro told
NCR in a phone interview.
A lot of people had a lucky day, Manganaro said.
And just because this years protesters were not processed does not
mean that the ban order is no longer in force.
In 1997, 28 repeat offenders had a very unlucky day, receiving
maximum prison sentences of up to 18 months and $3,000 fines for taking part in
a similar procession.
SOA Watch organizers were just as quick to declare victory. The
crowd roared approval when the news reached them at the main entrance, where
scores of Columbus police had been called up to insure public order and safety.
Bourgeois led the cheers, then acknowledged the feeling of relief mixed with
incompleteness at the Armys shift in tactics. We need to take some
time to look at strategy, he said.
Carol Richardson, co-organizer, urged the crowd to shift their
sights to rallies and protests in Washington in May of 1999 where the campaign
to win enough votes to close the school is the clear focus of the eight-year
effort. This years vote to cut off SOA funding fell short 212-201 in
September.
As the marchers made their way full circle from the park back to
the main entrance, Sheen asked a 10-year-old marcher to join him on the stage.
Bernadette ONeill of Raleigh, North Carolina, said she had marched with
her father to protest the killing of children in Latin America.
In all my years as an activist, Sheen said, this
is the first time I have ever been incarcerated with a child.
Doepker then joined Sheen and ONeill and told the crowd:
We came to speak the truth and we spoke it. We came to be in solidarity
with our brothers and sisters in Latin America and we were. We came to show
that nonviolence works, and we did it with over 7,000 people.
Returning marches described the welcome they had received as they
passed through a predominantly African-American neighborhood on their mile-long
walk back from the park to the main gate. People came out of their houses
to applaud and to sing songs with us, one said.
Another veteran activist in the crowd told NCR she had seen
something remarkable happen at this years protest.
We witnessed a real disarmament here today. The Army had a
weapon, the power to arrest and prosecute, and they chose to put that weapon
down, she said.
National Catholic Reporter, December 11,
1998
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