Nuclear Age Peace Foundation

Author: Leah Wells

  • City Councils Should Take Stand for Peace

    In September 1959, a group of students from Fisk University in Nashville, Tenn., began a successful nonviolent desegregation campaign in their city by targeting the lunch counters of popular diners and restaurants.

    Led by the Rev. Jim Lawson, the students started an economic boycott of downtown stores, in addition to their ongoing nonviolence workshops and the weekly sit-ins at local establishments. Lawson’s experience studying at Gandhi’s ashram in India provided powerful insight into the nature of their nonviolent work.

    At the risk of being beaten and jailed, hundreds of black and white students sat peacefully side by side in the restaurants while grownups heckled, threw milkshakes and punched them. The police stood by while private citizens assaulted the students. In a public address to the city, Mayor Ben West reaffirmed the “rule of law” in the city, stating that the existing segregationist laws must be upheld.

    When the students were jailed, they refused to pay fines to support a system that oppressed them. Instead, they opted for 30 days in the workhouse. The students’ continual willingness to suffer forced their jailers to look them in the eyes every day, challenging the system whose laws treated them unequally.

    In April 1960, the home of their lawyer, Z. Alexander Looby, was bombed. The students’ response was to lead a silent march to City Hall in an attempt to rectify the continual threats and injustices perpetrated in the Deep South.

    Mayor West emerged from City Hall to address the students. Diane Nash, a young woman who had been at the core of organizing the student movement, stepped up to speak with him.

    She asked: “Mayor West, do you believe it is morally right to discriminate against a person solely on the basis of his or her skin color?”

    He responded that he could not discriminate against a person solely on the basis of skin color.

    She then asked him if he believed the lunch counters should be desegregated.

    He said, “Yes.”

    West did not subordinate his personal views to uphold his public responsibilities. He chose to listen to his conscience and act with integrity to make a decision that became a major turning point in the civil rights era. By May 1960, the lunch counters were desegregated.

    Undoubtedly, West’s constituency in Nashville was upset with him. In the segregationist South, Jim Crow was a powerful voice. But West chose not to delegate his personal moral responsibility to another venue, like the office of mayor. He did not hide behind his official title, nor did he pass the buck.

    He did not say, “It’s not my responsibility. Someone else can decide. I don’t have enough information.”

    West took a stand opposing segregation, discrimination and racism because in his heart he could not look Nash, a young black woman, in the eye and say he supported policies that denied her rights and humanness.

    On Feb. 10, the Ventura City Council voted down a resolution condemning the proposed invasion of Iraq.

    Some City Council members rationalized that in their personal lives they oppose the war on Iraq, but professionally, in their duty as public officials, they could not vote on a resolution that they were not sure their constituency supported. They said that city councils do not have the authority to rule on matters that reside at the national or international level.

    In doing this, they passed their individual moral responsibility to avoid being criticized for their anti-war stance, even though hundreds of supporters of the resolution brought more than 1,000 signatures from Ventura residents stating they, too, oppose the war.

    All of us should have the courage and support to take stances for justice and peace. We should never have to shelve our conscience to follow the crowd or to avoid being stampeded by the crowd. It would be a civil rights nightmare if we were denied the right to speak our conscience, denied our power of choice, our ability to stand up for those with no voice.

    Why then should we throw away the opportunity to voice our conscience, especially on such a crucial topic which affects everyone in Ventura County, like the proposed war in Iraq?

    We cannot say that we are disconnected from any instance of human suffering. Moreover, we should take every opportunity to stand against injustice and work toward promoting a world where compassion rules over intolerance and diplomatic solutions are sought.

    Nash took that stand when she posed her insightful questions to West in front of the thousands of marchers in Nashville.

    West’s noble articulation that segregation is wrong turned the tide for those working toward justice and equality during the shameful racist era of U.S. history. His one voice made a difference. Elected officials have the historical precedence and permission to vote their consciences.

    It is also a massive lesson for all of us. We cannot wait for someone else to take a stand. Each voice weighs equally, from the smallest child to the most powerful ruler. Each of us has something to contribute to the overall good of humankind.

    The power of one can change history.
    *Leah C. Wells of Santa Paula is a teacher and writer. She is traveling to Iraq this week and spent time there last year.

  • The Art of Living: Santa Paula’s Xavier Montes Walks (and Teaches) the Talk

    Santa Paula native Xavier Montes remembers his ascent into social advocacy. A self-proclaimed “reborn Chicano,” he learned Spanish while visiting a relative in Mexico who challenged his limited vocabulary. While there, he extended his knowledge of culture and history by studying the meaning of traditional Mexican songs. His first attendance at a folklorico dance event in 1971 evoked feelings of awe—the sombreros looked like trophies, he said.

    A month later, he saw Teatro Campesino, with Chicano actors performing skits on controversial issues. From there, his transformation into a socially aware artist and musician was under way.

    And now, if you hear a harp at a community event, Montes is probably behind the strumming. If you see a mural in Santa Paula, chances are he had some input into the design. If you dine at Vince’s Café on Main and 8th streets, you’ll be surrounded by his acrylics.

    “My cultural heritage is filled with color and passion,” he tells the Santa Paula Society of the Arts. “It is in my veins and my heart. And so, like many other artists, I am compelled to creatively express what I feel, what I see and what I wish I could see.”

    And his commitment to his culture’s youth, in fact, stands as a work of art itself. In April, Santa Paula’s California Oil Museum will host Montes’ annual De Colores art exhibit for the ninth consecutive year. Montes views the show as a bridge between the community and the schools, two worlds he says need stronger ties: “How can you have cultural events,” he asks, “without students?”

    Montes, 50, views students as the lifeblood of community artwork. Students, he explains, are the ones who should care about their community, and the community should give them ample opportunities to become involved.

    On Montes’ wish list is a De Colores nonprofit organization to support year-round activities for students and community members. His greatest hope, though, is that Santa Paula will have a community art space for young people to develop their skills and talents.

    He has scoped a few windowfronts on Santa Paula’s Main Street, and he knows what the places would need: tables, chairs, art supplies, easels and personnel with the technical expertise to renovate and prepare the space. He adds that such a venture is especially important in the face of arts underfunding in high schools.

    “There are no painting classes in small high schools,” he lamented. “Those are for bigger schools.” Without this investment in creativity, he added, students develop their own means of expression that can result in the destruction of property.

    There’s a sadness and an irony involved, Montes said, when Mexican storeowners’ buildings are routinely defaced by young people of the same race and heritage (“How can they deface their own people’s property?”). He adds that he wants Santa Paula’s teenagers to take pride in the businesses their people have maintained through hard work and dedication.

    Montes, known to close friends as X, walks his talk. He takes his concern to the streets, working on murals with students and guiding them through the process of creating a public work of art. “I teach them techniques,” he said, “like how to blow up smaller images into larger ones using the grid method, planning it all out. The transformation starts with words on paper, ideas like love, pain, pride, future [and] family, and we narrow it down to a few ideas. Then we find symbols for those words, transferring the idea to a visual symbol. Next, we lay out the symbols, considering the viewership—what do we want people to notice first, how will they interpret the mural. This is a process, not a goal with an end point.”

    Montes has a degree in studio art and a teaching credential from UCSB. He serves as a mentor for the CalArts Visual Arts Program, helping to select young Latino and Latina artists who would benefit from summer classes.

    Montes sighed with concern over the fact that many young Latinos are ashamed of their heritage and culture, recalling once having felt similarly. He continues to work patiently with his students, facilitating their growth process as artists and as human beings. Students from Renaissance High School give him high marks; they have even taken on their own independent muraling projects using knowledge and skills learned in his classes.

    His students’ murals often deal with the themes of Mexican musical history and the Mexican revolution, events their grandparents and great-grandparents experienced. And while the students are painting, they hear Montes’ voice.

    “The scenes involve positive thinking,” he said. “I talk about pride, brown skin and the rich history of the Mexican people. And I tell them that the only way to get ahead is through education. Ignorance is the reason for the ‘isms,’ like racism and hatred.”
    *Leah C. Wells, a Santa Paula teacher, serves as peace education coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation in Santa Barbara.

  • No Child Left Alone By Military Recruiters

    The No Child Left Behind Act which went into effect last week has some surprising implications for high school students. Buried deep within the funding benefits is Section 9528 which grants the Pentagon access to directories with students names, addresses and phone numbers so that they may be more easily contacted and recruited for military service. Prior to this provision, one-third of the nation’s high schools refused recruiters’ requests for students’ names or access to campus because they believed it was inappropriate for educational institutions to promote military service.

    This portion of the Department of Education’s initiative to create better readers, testers and homework-doers is a departure from the previously federally guaranteed privacy protections students have traditionally known. Until now, schools have been explicitly instructed to protect the integrity of students’ information – even to guard students’ private information from college recruiters. Students must consent to releasing their personal data when they take college entrance exams.

    However, since September 11th , educational institutions have slid down the slippery slope in doling out student information when solicited by the FBI and now the Pentagon. Only one university – Earlham in Indiana – declined to release student data when approached after the terrorist attacks last fall.

    The No Child Left Behind act paves the way for the military to have unimpeded access to underage students who are ripe for solicitation for the military. This blatant contradiction of prior federal law is not only an invasion of students’ privacy but an assault on their educational opportunities as well. Too many students are lulled by the siren songs of military service cooing promises of funding for higher education. Too many students have fallen between the cracks due to underfunded educational programs, underresourced schools and underpaid teachers. They are penalized in their educational opportunities for the systemic failure to put our money where our priorities ought to be: in schools.

    It is critical that students, schools and school districts have accurate information regarding this No Child Left Behind Act in preparation for the forthcoming military solicitation. First, the Local Educational Agency (LEA), not individual schools, may grant dissemination of student information. When recruiters approach individual schools, the administration should refer them to the school district office where they are supposed to visit in the first place.

    In some cases, the recruiters on site have coerced employees at individual schools to sign previously prepared documents stating that in refusing to release student information, they are not in compliance with the No Child Left Behind Act and risk losing federal funding. All requests for student information should be referred to the school district’s office and not left to the discretion of individual school employees. School boards, Parent-Teacher Organizations and Student Council/ASB groups can mobilize to support the administrations who are not willing to distribute private student information.

    Second, students or their parents may opt themselves out of this recruitment campaign. So as not to be in violation of the previous federal law which restricts disclosure of student information, the LEA must notify parents of the change in federal policy through an addendum to the student handbook or individual letters sent to students’ homes. Parents and students can notify their school administration and district in writing of their desire to have their records kept secret.

    The San Francisco School District has maintained a policy of non-recruitment by the military and is leading the nation in their efforts to educate parents and students on their right to privacy. As advocates for their students, the district is sending home individual letters to parents outlining their options for protecting their child’s information.

    At the heart of this argument over students’ records and privacy is the true purpose and meaning of education. Is the goal of education to provide a fertile field of students ripe for the picking by the military which will send them to the front lines of battle, potentially never to return? Is the essence of education to dichotomize the availability of quality education between those with ample finances and those with no financial mobility?

    Or is education meant to develop students’ minds, hearts and talents through self-discovery and academic exploration? Does education aim to promote critical thinking skills, empathy for others, understanding of individual roles in community service, and a sense of global connectedness? Was education designed to be an equitable opportunity for all students?

    A newspaper from the U.K., The Scotsman, recently interviewed a young American woman on an aircraft carrier in the Middle East. Eighteen-year-old Karen de la Rosa said, “I have no idea what is happening. I just hear the planes launching above my head and pray that no one is going to get killed. I keep telling myself I’m serving my country.”

    But is her country serving her?

    The relationship between militarism and education is evident. The current Department of Education budget proposal for 2003 is $56.5 billion. The recently-approved Department of Defense budget is $396 billion, nearly seven times what is allocated for education, and more than three times the combined military budgets of Russia, China, Iraq, Iran, North Korea, Libya, Cuba, Sudan and Syria. An escalated war in Iraq could add more than $200 billion to the defense budget as well.

    Students are continually guilted into shouldering the burden of responsibility when they do not succeed in school and all too often accept as inevitable their fate of being sucked into military service. The Leave No Child Behind Act is a wake up call to students to reclaim their privacy, to reinvest their energy into demanding quality education and to remind their leaders that stealing money from education to pay for military is unacceptable.
    *Leah C. Wells serves as the Peace Education Coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation. December 10th, Human Rights Day, serves as the platform to challenge the No Child Left Behind Act. NAPF encourages students to get informed and become active in asserting their right to privacy and to quality education. For more information, visithttps://wagingpeace.davidmolinaojeda.com/new/getinvolved/index.htm.

  • Unsolicited Advice About the Future of Peacemaking

    Originally Published by CommonDreams.org

    Why doesn’t our society see peace as a viable option? We relegate peacemakers to the footnotes in our history books and all but ignore the important role nonviolence has played throughout history.

    Many of my students think that nonviolence means just laying down or getting stepped on, a passive act rather than a powerful active stance for justice. We are taught to compartmentalize our lives, to put things in neat categories whose boundaries don’t touch. Fight or flight, we’re taught.

    Violence is a simple dichotomy: good versus evil, right versus wrong, you versus me.

    So how do we deal with that?

    By teaching young people about strategic, organized nonviolent strategy. Peace is an inside job I was recently told. It starts with taking a deep look at authenticity. Is our education authentic? Are standardized tests making us smarter and more well-equipped to deal with the real problems we encounter everyday?

    How do we feel about our career options? Is work exciting? Can we work in a way that nourishes our talents and skills and preserves the planet for the seventh future generation? Are we autodidactic?

    How do we even get to the point where we can think of how we can enjoy our lives when problems like police brutality, racism, classism, gentrification, verbal violence, environmental injustice, neo-fascism, globalization, capitalism, misogyny, structural and institutional violence, militarism and the ever-expanding academic-prison-industrial complex are rampant. Not to mention the ongoing global threat of nuclear weapons…

    It all seems so overwhelming when we stop to think about it.

    Fortunately, I received some words of comfort from a friend of mine who spent a month at the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland. She said, “Leah, there is enough of everything. Enough time, enough love, enough energy, enough resources and enough money to build and meet the needs of the entire planet.” Those words are not utopic.

    It starts with a paradigm shift. The problems we face are a result of a crisis of perception of “us” versus “them” where we retain the good qualities and they embody the evil ones. Life is not that simple. Dr. King said that there’s some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. Hate the sin, not the sinner, he said.

    For my part, I have chosen to address the injustices in the world through education. I believe in peace education because it is proactive – it is its own agenda. It is a response, not a reaction.

    Peace education corrects the version of history that deems mankind is a violent and vicious species and instead tells the stories of where the anonymous, unsung peacemakers have quietly changed millions of lives. It is the patient coursework that advocates reading the literature of peace, the words of Tolstoy and Dorothy Day, of Einstein and of Joan Baez. It is the classroom instruction that encourages students to start learning in the real world. Peace education advocates community service and a view of the world where the personal, local, national and global issues are interconnected.

    At this point, peace education is its own semester-long class where students venture daily to learn about how nonviolence applies to them. They are in a Patch Adams-style learning environment where every student is a teacher and every teacher is a student. When I am absent, my students teach the class.

    It’s more than just one class, though. Peace must be a balance between content and process, where the material students learn in every class – French, History, Science, Math – is geared at promoting peace and responsible citizenship, and where the process is also nonviolent where administrators, teachers and students share power rather than reinforcing the traditional patriarchal “power-over” structure.

    So what are you waiting for? It starts with you. Run don’t walk to get Grace Llewellyn’s book “The Teenage Liberation Handbook: How to Quit School and Get a Real Life and Education.” Grab William Upski Wimsatt’s book “No More Prisons.” Watch “A Bug’s Life” and learn about the power dynamics that keep the ‘powerful few’ in power over the ‘powerless many’ and make the connections between that film and real life.

    Talk with your friends and your enemies you probably have a lot in common. Get organized. You have power even though you might not be able to vote yet. Take back this world and make it what you want it to be.
    *Leah C. Wells serves as the Peace Education Coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation. She credits her high school “Issues and Themes” teacher Mr. Jackson with her love for teaching.

  • U.S., Iraqi Students Exchange Letters of Peace

    Originally Published by the Ventura County Star, CA

    Dear Friend, My name is Fahad. First I want to thank you about your nice feelings toward our people in Iraq. Here in Iraq we love all peoples in the world and we try to help them if we could. All people in the world must not believe everything bad said about us in programs made specially to produce bad facts about Iraq.

    My students received this pen-pal letter from a student at the Al-Markaziya School for Boys in Baghdad. Earlier this month, I visited Iraq to deliver pen-pal letters from students in my “Solutions to Violence” classes, and now a friendship between two warring nations has the opportunity to bloom.

    The lack of intercultural communication between students in the United States and students in Iraq is troubling. All we know of them via mass media is that all 24 million Iraqis are equated with their one leader. All they know of us are 12 years of economic sanctions and no-fly-zone bombings.

    When I watch your movies on our black and white TV, I have many dreams to have a color TV, to see your real colors. Do you have the same face that we have? Do you have the same heart?

    The high-school-aged students have most often crossed my mind. When teaching about Iraq, I inquire as to the age at which my students had their first memories. Most students say somewhere around 3 to 5 years old. My students, most of whom are 15 to 18 years old, have grown up knowing leisurely lives, free from bombings, free to watch what they want on television and to buy what they want in shopping malls.

    I ask them to stand in the shoes of their same-age counterparts in Iraq. Imagine that since conscious memory, all they have known has been war. It’s a powerful exercise in empathy.

    Friday is my holiday. I don’t go to school, but I study for hours and hours to get to the medical college. Because of the embargo on our country, there’s no medicine for diseases, and many newborn kids and children are dying.

    Even more troubling to me are the youngest children, those 12 years and younger. They were born after the sanctions and after the Gulf War. They have known no life other than war. And the saddest part? It’s not at all their fault. They are being held hostage under a dictatorship they did not choose, captive and deprived of basic nutrition and access to education.

    I would like to tell you that all Iraqi people are against the idea of war. We believe in peace and that we have the right to vote our own leader.

    UNICEF reports that 80 percent of schools in Iraq are in desperate need of repair. Eight-thousand schools lack basic infrastructure and the basics to support education: no new textbooks since 1989, no chalk, no classroom repairs. Teachers’ salaries prior to the Gulf War were approximately $500 per month. They now earn $5 per month. Students are sent home to use the restroom because those at school pose too great a health risk. And the rate of primary school-aged girls dropping out has increased to 35 percent in the past 12 years.

    According to UNICEF, education is the only sector in Iraq that has shown no improvement since the sanctions were imposed in 1990.

    As a teacher, I am deeply concerned about the connections between education and war-making. Every penny we spend on weapons of mass destruction, every dollar that is diverted from academic enrichment to daisy cutters and pre-emptive strikes deprive American students of the right to a quality education.

    How enraging that our military recruits disproportionately in poor communities of color. How egregious that my students who cannot afford higher education must join the military to pay for their studies. This classist, racist policy glares at the American public who are too blinded by war talk to notice. We are sending poor people to kill poor people. Where is the democracy in that?

    So we are a people who like the peace and work to get it. Because whatever I say I can’t describe to you how much Iraqi people suffered after the war.

    Currently, the pen-pal letter exchange program, supported by Voices in the Wilderness and the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation, is the only one of its kind. No study abroad programs exist. All diplomatic ties with Iraq have been severed since the early 1990s. It is even illegal to travel there.

    Knowing this, how can we expect the youth of America to know that “our quarrel,” as so many governments have said, “is not with the Iraqi people.” If we don’t make the distinction, how will they?

    Education is the key to ending wars. Through this simple outreach of American to Iraqi students, young people are changing the world.
    *Leah C. Wells, a Santa Paula teacher, serves as peace education coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation in Santa Barbara. She recently paid a second visit to Iraq and opposes the economic sanctions and no-fly-zone incursions on that country.

  • The Silent War: Iraq’s Women and Children are Casualties Amid Economic Sanctions

    Originally Published by the Ventura County Reporter

    Mohamed, a recently married Iraqi friend who works in the hotel where we stay in Baghdad, is expecting a child soon. Shortly before we left nearly three weeks ago, he approached some members of our seven-member peace delegation with troubling information about his wife’s pregnancy. She will need a Cesarean section—unfortunately, on his salary, Mohamed cannot afford the operation.

    Our team feels helpless listening to Mohamed’s story amid the millions of others like it in Iraq. Even so, it isn’t wise for us to get a reputation as problem-solvers. We do what we can, but working against the United Nations-imposed economic sanctions on Iraq can often be overwhelming.

    This Iraqi clasroom may soon gain over one-third new capacity. More than 35 percent of girls drop out of primary school due to the need to help support their families.

    As a woman visiting Iraq, I often have entrance into particular social situations unfamiliar to men, like holding hands or sitting next to mothers at the hospitals that tend their sick children. I grow particularly empathetic as I imagine myself in their shoes. I know the rage I feel here in the United States toward misguided economic policies meant to target Saddam Hussein but that directly affect the most vulnerable people in society: the women and children.

    In Iraq, life for women (especially mothers) was much better prior to the United Nations sanctions, imposed in August of 1990. From 1975 to 1985, the Iraqi government invested large amounts of money in social programs, such as education and health care. A program to eradicate illiteracy among Iraqi women was exceedingly successful, and women have traditionally enjoyed freedoms not found in other contemporary Arab and Muslim countries.

    In an Oct. 1 New York Times article, Nicholas Kristof reported on the liberal attitudes toward women in Iraq. He wrote that women routinely serve in non-combat positions in the military. They pray, dine and swim together with men. Girls compete in sports as often as boys do.

    Compare these tremendous opportunities with those in neighboring countries such as Saudi Arabia, where repressive attitudes cloister women from public life into sometimes dangerous situations. In March, a group of Saudi girls was incinerated, having been denied exit from a burning building because they were not covered by a hijab, or head scarf.

    Although more openminded in its attitudes, Iraq has become decidedly more dangerous for women and children since the Gulf War due to the breakdown in medical care and especially in preventive medicine. Mohamed’s wife knows this predicament all too well.

    In Basra, where much of the Gulf War fighting transpired, 25 of the 26 obstetrics and gynecology students are women. During my first visit to Iraq in August 2001, however, I spoke with a physician at the Basra Pediatric Hospital who said that 90 percent of the women in Southern Iraq suffered from severe anemia, a health indicator with serious implications for women and children.

    Severely anemic nursing mothers cannot provide their babies adequate nutrition. Thus, even breastfeeding has become problematic during the past 12 years of economic sanctions.

    A UNICEF document from April of this year states that many Iraqi mothers have stopped breastfeeding and that only 17 percent breastfeed during their baby’s first four months. Under the Oil for Food Programme of 1995, a food basket handout for Iraqi families contains powdered formula that mothers increasingly use.

    This is problematic for many reasons, among them that the formula requires water for preparation. Nearly 62 percent of women said they report giving their babies water in the first month of life, and nearly 32 percent of the children drink unboiled water—but the water in Iraq is severely contaminated. Many of the water purification, sewage treatment and electrical facilities were bombed during the Gulf War and remain largely unrepaired and are functioning at minimal capacity for a growing nation of 24 million.

    Last fall, Thomas Nagy, a Washington, D.C. professor, released a study called The Secret Behind the Sanctions: How the U.S. Intentionally Destroyed Iraq’s Water Supply. In this paper, he details information in government documents from 1991 about how the Gulf War strategy included destroying Iraq’s civilian infrastructure, which violates Geneva Convention articles.

    “It notes,” Nagy reported, “that Iraq’s rivers ‘contain biological materials [and] pollutants and are laden with bacteria. Unless the water is purified with chlorine, epidemics of such diseases as cholera, hepatitis and typhoid could occur.’ Iraq will suffer increasing shortages of purified water because of the lack of required chemicals and desalination membranes. Incidences of disease, including possible epidemics, will become probable unless the population were careful to boil water.”

    Currently, the killer of children in Iraq is gastroenteritis, caused by drinking contaminated water. One in eight children do not see their first birthdays. Imagine the helplessness of being a mother in Iraq, knowing what life was like before the Gulf War and before economic sanctions, wanting nothing more than to be a good mother and provide a healthy, nutritious, safe life for her children.

    In a meeting with the chief medical officer at the Basra Pediatric Hospital, I inquired about the status of preventive health care for women in Iraq. His response was that there is none. This is quite remarkable for Iraq, which until 1990 had eradicated all childhood illnesses and had the most comprehensive health care system in the Middle East.

    While abysmally lacking resources and training programs, the medical field is nowhere as bleak as the education climate in Iraq, especially for young girls. More than 35 percent of girls drop out before the end of primary school due to the high price of school supplies and the need to help supplement the family’s income by going to work, likely begging.

    It seems we are condemning the women and children of Iraq to a fate similar to that of the 25 percent of American children who live in poverty, the 45 million people without health insurance and the 30,000 homeless in New York City alone.

    “Conflict is the last thing people in Iraq need,” UNICEF in Iraq reports. And when our group inquired about the potential effects of President Bush’s growing military campaign, an official at the World Food Programme office in Baghdad sighed: “The poorest people in Iraq will suffer the most.”
    *Leah C. Wells, a Santa Paula teacher, serves as peace education coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation in Santa Barbara. She recently paid a second visit to Iraq and opposes the economic sanctions and no-fly-zone incursions on that country.

  • Sin Las Mujeres, No Hay Movimiento. “Without the Women, There is no Movement.”

    For many years, women had played supporting roles within movements for nonviolence. They cared for the children and supported their men as they worked on the front lines and garnered the headlines, making public waves. They photocopied and typed behind closed doors, allowing their contributions to remain hidden and, sometimes, allowing men to take credit for their work.

    The farm worker movement is a notable exception to this paradigm.

    The late activist Cesar Chavez recognized the power of women in action when a group of them set up a prayer service and vigil at a ranch a vigil that lasted two months. The workers had been sanctioned by a judge against picketing at a farm. The prayer service began with eight women at noon; it grew to 50 by nightfall.

    Every day, the women maintained a nonviolent presence at the gates to the farm, singing spirituals, praying and signing authorization cards.

    A strong contingent of women activists thrives at Ventura’s PictSweet mushroom farm. They play key roles in policy and decision-making. They are organized, and they are proud. And their stories shape the future of the movement as their co-workers and children see the essential importance of their input in a shared victory.

    Within the first week of leaving her native town in Jalisco, Mexico in 1978, Lilia Orozco began her career at PictSweet. She sacrificed from the start, leaving her two children, ages 3 and 5, in the care of her mother while she joined her husband in Ventura.

    The history behind her strength runs deep.

    “In my town in Jalisco,” she said, ”the women wanted on president and the men wanted another. And the strength of the women won. We got our president elected.”

    When she and her husband separated, her single motherhood dictated her involvement in the movement. Whereas other women might have taken a quieter role in the struggle, Lilia stood at the forefront. When her sons joined her in the United States in 1980, she started taking them to the picket lines.

    “I made the struggle fit into my life,” she said. “You have to play so many roles mother, father, cook, doctor an dkeep up with their education, the housework, everything.”

    For Lilia, there was no question as to whether motherhood or work was more important. They were, and are, equal in her eyes.

    “We have to defend ourselves and our jobs,” she said. “If we give up, other scabs would have taken our jobs.”

    As the sole provider for her children, Lilia realized that if they were to survive in the United States, she had to continue to fight.

    When Lilia began working, the PictSweet farm was owned by West Foods. In 1981, just a few years after beginning her commitment to mushroom agriculture, the workers went on strike to renew their contract with West. The strike served to maintain a comprehensive benefits package that provided for the families’ medical needs.

    Lilia tells a story of better times at PictSweet, when dental and vision insurance were part of the benefits package, and when the medical plan included $5 prescription costs.

    For the past 23 years, Lilia has been working in the “bubble” department, cleaning the mushroom beds after they have been picked. It took her only two months on the job to find her place in the United Farm Workers union, and she has been a vocal supporter of labor representation ever since. This struggle helped her to find her voice and to stand up not only for her rights but also for the rights of others.

    “When a woman is by herself,” she said, “everyone wants to take advantage of her. You have to stand up for yourself. If I know that I’m right, I have to fight back.” Her conclusion: No one can do it for you.

    Lilia’s message to the union’s Farm Worker Committee “gets desperate” when she feels she has important information for them. Her sentiments are similar to those of a female Georgetown law student, who said, “Women want answers more quickly because we’re more often the victims, anda victims don’t want to wait for solutions.”

    She capitalizes on the value of women in the movement by talking to everyone at the mushroom plant. “More people will talk to women than men,” she says. “And when the men at work are talking badly about women, I remind them that their wives and mothers are women. When they talk badly about the union, I press the issue and ask what they really mean…what is behind their fear.”

    “At this time,” she said, “the struggle is more balanced. Women are playing more equal roles and are stronger, making more of a difference this time around.” She referred to the most recent struggle to gain a contract with PictSweet the movement was invigorated in 2000 with a massive boycott strategy.

    Alicia Torres’ experience is similar to Lilia’s: She came here from Mexico to be with her husband, bringing one child with her and leaving three behind with her family in Michoacan. For the past 15 years, she has been the breadwinner in her family because a brain disease has left her husband incapacitated and unable to work.

    In 1989, Alicia immigrated to the United States as a migrant worker, first picking strawberries and grapes in Lodi, then packing vegetables for Boscotich Farms. She lost her job there when she asked for some time off to raise her kids.

    “I signed papers with the forewoman for an arrangement that she would hire me back during the onion season,” Alicia sighed. “She said she’d call me for a job.” As onion season began in 2000, Alicia watched as many other women were hired back. She eventually was told she would not get her job as a packer back. After this disappointing incident, she found work at PictSweet.

    Alicia works in the brown mushrooms department, picking portabellas. Union organizing and contract efforts had begun by the time she arrived, and she decided to support the union because of her previous experience.

    As the union representative for the brown mushroom department, she says she has no fear: “How can we improve our conditions if not together?” she said. “The Union gives women many opportunities to succeed. God made women strong. Even when we’re sick, we work and struggle. Women work through the hard times!”

    She advises her daughters to be strong women as well, to “get a good education, to prepare themselves and stand up for themselves.”

    She also stresses cooperation: “Women could not run this campaign alone,” she explained. “We give the men courage. We are decisive when they say ‘it will happen later,’ we say ‘it will happen now!”

    The daughters of Jesus Torres, notable in the United Farm Workers campaign to win a contract with PictSweet, know the ropes of organizing already. Just 8 and 9 years old, they attend regular meetings with their father at the United Farm Workers office, often until late at night.

    “We come here,” they said, “because we want to hear more about the union. We have marched in Sacramento and Los Angeles because we want a contract for the workers,” the girls exclaim. “…and when we miss school because of the struggle, we bring souvenirs to our teachers, like pins and buttons.”

    These girls see for themselves how they want to contribute in society. Judit wants to be a teacher because “it’s fun telling kids how to learn.” At a young age, she is realizing that education also takes place outside the classroom.

    Lourdes wants to be an artist: “I want to draw the sea, sun, grass, sky…people.”

    The girls nod their heads enthusedly when asked if they’re proud of their dad.

    “It helps him for us to be here,” they said with a giggle. “He has his family supporting him.”

    Perhaps one day, the Torres girls will have children of their own supporting their place at the forefront of the struggle for workers’ rights.
    *Leah C. Wells serves as the Peace Education Coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation.

  • September 11 Remembrance Event at Moorpark College, CA

    Introduction

    Thank you very much for inviting me to share some thoughts with you today, the one-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks of one year ago.

    Last September 11 I was scheduled to facilitate a nonviolence training for activists in Orange County. It was a strange day, preparing for teaching peace to a group of people trying to make sense of what happened earlier in the day. I taught my morning nonviolence class in Ventura to high school students, and then continued as planned with the nonviolence workshop. It was healing and purposeful that a group of thirty people could gather together to focus on peaceful dialogue in the midst of such an extraordinarily disturbing day.

    Today my thoughts are with my two very good friends, Ryan and Amber Amundson as they grieve over the loss of someone very special to them. Amber and Ryan are in their mid-twenties; Amber’s husband Craig, Ryan’s brother, was killed in the attack on the Pentagon last year. Last fall Amber told me of the creativity her two children inspired in her and of the support from her family to grieve in the most healthy way she could. She told me that it would be unconscionable for her to disrespect the memory of her husband by teaching her children that revenge and retribution suffice as acceptable responses for the terrorist attacks. Instead, she has chosen a peaceful path.

    I received an email from Ryan yesterday replying to one I’d sent of prayers and thoughts during this difficult time. He and Amber participated in a Walk for Peace from Washington, DC to New York last November. They were pioneers of the phrase “Our Grief Is Not a Cry for War” just like other family members who lost loved ones on September 11, they did not want the memory of Craig to be used as justification for more war making.

    In fact, they have been at the helm of a new organization, September Eleventh Families for Peaceful Tomorrows, a group whose main message is one of peacemaking and reconciliation. In late September, Kelly Campbell, another relative of Craig Amundson will be speaking here in Ventura County.

    My thoughts are also with the families of the undocumented workers who lost their lives a year ago today and whose families are ineligible for reparations because their employers did not report them as employees.

    Aftermath of September 11

    In the year after the terrorist attacks, our country and indeed the world have seen many important changes some for the better, some for the worse. I think that there are some important questions to answer in looking at like who we are, how we see others, and how others see us.

    The following points outline a bit about who we are post-September 11:

    According to the American Psychological Association, reported post-traumatic stress disorder cases among young children have increased greatly, signifying that the attacks have left significant impressions.

    Hate crimes against people of color, especially those appearing to be of Arab or Middle Eastern descent, have increased greatly as reported by the Council on American Islamic Relations.

    The American Civil Liberties Union reports the attempts at eroding some of the freedoms and rights upheld in the US Constitution which have been met with resistance by courageous Judges throughout the country.

    The United States unilaterally backed out of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty in June to the dismay of the international community, including the other partner to the treaty, Russia.

    Our government did not ratify in July the International Criminal Court which would help to bring to justice human rights abusers under an International tribunal including those who perpetrated the crimes against humanity on September 11.

    Attorney General John Ashcraft unilaterally restricted access to information under the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) last October.

    Nuclear reactors continue to be left as sitting ducks to future terrorist attacks despite agencies within our own government who have repeatedly warned about their vulnerability. In recent attempts at verifying their security, the nuclear power plants have contracted individuals contracted to attempt to infiltrate them. They have been successful on most occasions and even have been able to toss uranium components over security fences using lacrosse sticks.

    Finally, TIPS, a combined “America’s Most Wanted” and FBI scheme, has been birthed a plan to recruit 1 in 24 Americans as citizen spies giving leads to authorities on susptected terrorist activities inside the United States.

    So, in addressing the first question, “Who are we?” it seems like we are a wounded, fearful nation still recovering from a significant blow to our confidence and to our hearts one year ago. American people are good people I see evidence for that in my classroom every day. I see it in the random acts of kindness that people have become more prone to doing in the last year.

    However, I am afraid that our country is on a dangerous path of punitive, rather than restorative, justice in holding the architects of terror accountable. How can we deal with our enemies without emulating their tactics?

    What Would King Do?

    In the classes I teach on nonviolence and peacemaking, we study the lives and words of peacemakers throughout history to gain a new perspective on how we can deal with the various conflicts we encounter personally, locally and globally. In addressing the second question of how we view others, Martin Luther King, Jr. provides some timeless wisdom.

    Dr. King wrote a Declaration of Independence from the War in Vietnam which still rings true today.

    When he was writing, communism was the enemy. Today it is terrorism. I have replaced his word ‘communism’ with ‘terrorism’ in the following text to demonstrate the relevance of his words for us today:

    “This kind of positive revolution of values is our best defense against terrorism. War is not the answer. Terrorism will never be defeated by the use of nuclear weapons. We must not engage in negative anti-terrorism, but rather in a positive trust for democracy, realizing that our greatest defense against terrorism is to take offensive action on behalf of justice. We must with positive action seek to remove those conditions of poverty, insecurity, and injustice which are the fertile soil in which the seeds of terrorism grow and develop.”

    Powerful words. We see the seeds of hate sown in poverty, insecurity, injustice and disparity of wealth. Generations of children in third world countries growing up in severe deprivation are potential terrorists if we take these words to heart. We must re-evaluate our priorities, our attitude toward corporate responsibility and our reliance on foreign oil if we are to prevent future terrorist attacks.

    Dr. King continues on to say in the essay against participation in the Vietnam War in perhaps his harshest criticism of US foreign policy: “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.” This admonition means that when we decrease funding for education, for social services, welfare and children, we are sowing seeds of hate in our own country as well. One-fourth of children in the United States live in poverty while our military budget soars out of control topping out at nearly $437 billion dollars.

    Dr. King has some gentler advice as well, though. In the essay entitled Loving Your Enemies, Dr. King outlines the reasons why we should pursue peacemaking rather than war making. He wrote,” Hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Hate scars the soul and distorts the personality. Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend. We never get rid of an enemy by meeting hate with hate; we get rid of an enemy by getting rid of enmity.”

    So where has our war on terror led us? We have not caught Osama bin Laden, we have pursued an unrelenting military campaign against the people of Afghanistan, stranding millions of people throughout last winter in desperate conditions, and even having the audacity in July to mistakenly bomb a wedding party, killing dozens. We euphemize our lingo about the tools of war making to desensitize ourselves from the true effects of weapons.

    These are not endearing actions that the US has undertaken.

    We have called our war on terror perhaps the worst misnomer: a pursuit of justice. We are not talking about true justice, though. We are talking about a vengeful, hateful justice seeking retribution rather than reconciliation. Lanzo del Vasto, peacemaker extraordinaire, writes about how true justice lapses into false when we believe we have the right to render evil for evil and call the evil rendered good and just.

    Again, powerful words. We must carefully examine what our actions purvey about our values.

    In our war on terror, we have failed to recognize that the United States sponsors a terrorist training camp on our soil. November is a hallowed month for something called the School of the Americas, a military training school located at Ft. Benning, GA. In the wake of September 11, British journalist George Monbiot wrote a scalding report about the incongruence of our policies, stating candidly that terrorist training takes place here in the United States.

    The School of the Americas moved from Central America to Georgia in the early 1980’s. At this school, Latin American soldiers are trained in paramilitary combat, in counterinsurgency in being the military arm of the multinational corporations who enforce poverty and the structural adjustment programs laid down by the World Bank and the IMF. One November, some Jesuit priests in Central America, their housekeeper and her daughter were slaughtered by soldiers trained at the SOA. Two of the assassins who killed Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador were trained at the school as well.

    George Monbiot said poignantly that in the United States, the war on terror must start at home by closing the School of the Americas. Ventura County has a special role to play in this effort. Congressman Elton Gallegly has never voted to close the SOA. Every year as the vote is taken in Congress, the margin by which the bill fails gets smaller and smaller we are nearing the goal. We must work with Gallegly to convince him to vote on HR 1810 to close the SOA.

    How do others see us?

    I believe that we can answer the third question of “How do others see us” by examining our lust for war against Iraq.

    There are a few policy points on Iraq which I would like to address with here because the rhetoric has evolved so speedily in the war on terror.

    Let me begin by saying that Saddam Hussein is a brute and a bully and has ruled Iraq for more than 20 years, holding hostage a population of 23 million Iraqis who did not elect him. He has used chemical warfare against his own people. And he has demonstrated aggression in the Middle East in recent years.

    These facts, however, should not obscure other relevant components of why we should not unilaterally depose the infamous leader of the Ba’ath Party in a US-led war on Iraq.

    First and foremost, there is no link between Iraq and al Qaeda or any of the people associated with the egregious crimes of September 11.

    There is unquestionable hesitation and outright disapproval from the international community with respect to any new war with Iraq.

    And on that point, I’d like to say that the first Gulf War never ended. Just this past Thursday, the largest air assault in four years took place over southern Iraq, with US and British forces using more than 100 aircraft to mount an attack. Iraq has been getting bombed nearly every week since the 42-day Gulf War was declared over.

    And the economic sanctions are a form of warfare as well, killing more than 5,000 children under the age of 5 every month. One in eight children in Iraq never reach their first birthday. Prior to the Gulf War, the UN deemed Iraq an emerging first-world nation. It had eradicated all childhood diseases, provided free healthcare to the entire population and education up through university studies was completely free.

    So back to lack of international support. Europe does not support war on Iraq. Every Arab nation has made statements condemning an escalation of war against Iraq, including Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Turkey. Few Middle Eastern countries want us to use their land, water or air space to fight this proposed war. And every Middle Eastern country sees an eminent intensification of the Palestinian/Israeli conflict should the United States decide to preemptively attack Iraq.

    Tomorrow, President Bush will make his case before the United Nations General Assembly. He has yet to offer credible evidence that Iraq is developing weapons of mass destruction capable of harming the US. The International Atomic Energy Agency has reported that Iraq has not accessed any nuclear material to use in making weapons of mass destruction.

    Many people wonder about the weapons inspections. The most credible source on this issue is Scott Ritter, former UNSCOM weapons inspector for eight years. He was in charge of making certain that Iraq was in compliance with the UN disarmament resolution. He has stated time and time again that UNSCOM was extraordinarily effective in destroying all of Iraq’s weapons capabilities.

    Unfortunately, in 1998, the United Nations withdrew their weapons inspection team in anticipation of the December bombing which the US and UK led. They were not kicked out by Iraq, as is often reported.

    So what do we do about Iraq?

    The first thing that we do is acknowledge the face of human suffering in Iraq. Iraq is a country. Iraq is not Saddam Hussein. More than 23 million people live there, each with a story about how they have been affected by the sanctions and the Gulf War.

    We cannot ignore the real pain that has been virtually unreported for the past twelve years in Iraq. The sanctions, administered by the United Nations, essentially mean that Iraq has no tangible revenue. All of their oil sales go through the Sanctions Committee 661 they sell their oil through the UN and must petition for items to import. Many items are routinely denied: blood bags, x-ray film, and even a shipment of 1 million pencils were denied because they contain graphite which could be used in making weapons of mass destruction.

    People in America are suffering as well especially today as we remember the tragedy which happened a year ago. But we will not lessen our pain by inflicting pain on others we will only create more hurt, more loss, more sadness.

    There are a few things that surprised me about visiting Iraq nearly every person I met there believes in the good of the American people. They know that if we only knew of their pain, that we would do more to help them. But if we believe, as is reported in the mass media, that “they all hate us” then it makes it okay for us to hate them too, and even kill them first. But the catch is that they don’t all hate us.

    Arabs are magnanimous, beautiful, generous people. The hospitality I was granted there was beyond any I could have ever imagined.

    But still recognizing the human face of Iraqis is not enough. We must realize that an entire people cannot be deemed evil. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn once wrote that “the line between good and evil runs through every human heart.” If we seek to eradicate evil, we are in essence killing a bit of ourselves. Sister Helen Prejean, author of Dead Man Walking, says that the value of human dignity is that we are worth more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. These are powerful statements about humanity and forgiveness which are crucial to remember in times of inexplicable grief.

    They are powerful statements because they demonstrate faith in nonviolence.

    Many people wonder about what to do about Saddam Hussein, though.

    Iraq needs regime change, but that change must not happen through war. In a movement of sustained democratization, the Iraqi people should decide for themselves free from international pressure, who they want governing them. And the weapons inspectors must resume their important job and be allowed to thoroughly, efficiently and respectfully carry out their tasks.

    And this can be done nonviolently.

    Embracing nonviolence does not mean that you are a doormat. It does not mean that you are weak.

    Authors Jack DuVall and Peter Ackerman, who wrote “A Force More Powerful” which became a six-part documentary on nonviolent change, believe that Saddam Hussein can be toppled through nonviolent measures, as were Pinochet and Milosevic. They write in this month’s issue of Sojourner Magazine, “Strategic nonviolent action is not about being nice to your oppressor, much less having to rely on his niceness. It’s about dissolving the foundations of his power and forcing him out. It is possible in Iraq.”

    Why do we not see nonviolent change as legitimate, though? Why is it not considered a viable option? Perhaps because history is presented and written by the winners, and because war making is so profitable. Alfie Kohn wrote “while it is indisputable that wars have been fought, the fact that they seem to dominate our history may say more about how history is presented that about what actually happened.”

    Teaching Peace

    This leads me into my final point. The most proactive thing we can do as a country to combat hatred and intolerance is to teach peace. Every class should be a peace class. It should be a blend of nonviolent processes and content information. I teach a class in three high schools here called “Solutions to Violence” and it attempts to give students tangible tools for resolving conflicts as well as cluing them in to the fact that community service is expected of them, and it is rewarding. They must ask the difficult questions of how they can best use their talents to serve the world, their neighbors, their brothers and sisters in humanity.

    It is not a difficult class to teach. We read the literature of peace and discuss it. We examine our own hearts, minds and actions. We see how our actions affect others and how everything in life is interconnected; nothing exists in a void.

    Peace education is essential in an age of terrorism. We must learn to resolve our conflicts through nonviolent means. The purpose of education is to produce critically thinking, empathetic and other-serving individuals. We will keep encountering the same problems time and time again until we re-examine how history is presented, how education is carried out until we reinsert the nonviolent figures in our textbooks who have been systematically written out.

    We must teach our students to act based on their conscience. They must have the faith of children in all of humanity, seeing that we are all brothers and sisters. They must see the necessity of caring for nature as she supports all life on earth.

    Peace education makes room for healing and for compassion, so needed in our time.

    The nonviolence class here at Moorpark College must continue! It is crucial that we not let peace education be a casualty of the war on terrorism.

    I am reminded of the June Jordan quote: “We are the people we’ve been waiting for.” We must not delegate individual moral responsibility to another; our conscience is the most precious quality unique to human beings.

    Not only today on September 11, but every day it is up to us to be a voice for the voiceless, to show compassion and to go the extra mile and stretch our hearts to love just a little bit more.
    *Leah C. Wells serves as the Peace Education Coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation in Santa Barbara, CA.

  • Peace Educator Finds Ways to Better World

    Published in the Ventura County Star

    I grew up in a farm family where hard work, industriousness and resourcefulness were highly valued. Our seasonally governed lives meant more than just calendar changes. From an early age, I internalized the planting and harvest patterns of corn and soybeans. The Farmer’s Almanac taught me to discern the stages of the crops, as well as humans’ inextricable connection to the land and to nature.

    My entire life, much of my learning took place outside the classroom; I viewed school as a steppingstone to extracurricular activities like Model U.N., tennis, Student Council, musicals and classical ballet. My parents taught me to view my God-given gifts as such, to use them for the benefit of others. They cultivated in me a respect and love for fun education that transcends standardized tests, encourages asking questions and seeks out wise mentors.

    In college, I studied what I loved, taking classes that interested me, like film studies, linguistics, quantum physics and the evolution of social justice movements in the United States. Afterward, however, I had no idea where to get a job because there is really no urgent call for neurolinguist majors in the Help Wanted ads. And there was no newspaper section called Careers with a Conscience. So, I started thinking about who I admire.

    My list of heroes include Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman doctor; Indiana Jones, the fictitious archaeologist/professor/adventurer; Laura Ingalls Wilder; and my best friend Jill, an occupational therapist who has begun talking to shop and metalworking classes in high schools about how students’ skills can create useful household items for her differently-abled patients. Grace Llewellyn, one of the pioneers of the Unschooling Movement and author of “The Teenage Liberation Handbook: How to Quit School and Get a Real Life and Education,” also ranks high on my list.

    All these people have in common the goal of freeing education. Unconstrained by the boundaries of desks and classrooms, they bring learning into the open. They represent creativity, individuality, deconstructing barriers, having fun, serving others and making the most of natural talents.

    So it makes sense that I was drawn to peace education, a holistic approach to learning. Peace education means many things: conflict resolution, anger management, power with vs. power over, respect for nature, love of diversity and community service. But it is more than that; it’s teaching students about the connections between poverty, racism, technology, the environment, politics, economics, religion and education. I have learned from my students they most value authenticity. Tired of being fed prepackaged ideas through mass marketing and mindless trips to the malls and movie theaters, my students keep telling me they believe there’s more to life than Nike and Coca-Cola.

    I believe it too.

    Yet, these messages are not the standard priority of pop culture that tells us to get good grades, to get into a top school, to get the right degree so that you can get the high-paying job, the big house, the fast car and the latest look. What we neglect to tell students in their college counseling sessions is that none of these things guarantees happiness.

    We teach students to compartmentalize, that in school, English is separate from science is separate from history is separate from math. Peace education decompartmentalizes more than that, it fosters a sense of interconnectedness where each subject, each person, each decision is inextricably linked to another. It demonstrates that, in life, there is much more gray area than black and white.

    So why am I a peace educator? Because it fulfills my love of teaching, writing, learning and travel. Because it is authentic. Because I continually meet interesting people who challenge my beliefs and boundaries. Because it promotes consensus and process-oriented skills that make life more functional. Because I can work locally on issues such as peace education and PictSweet; nationally on issues such as juvenile and restorative justice; and internationally on issues such as Iraq and Aceh.

    It feels good to do good when no one’s watching. It feels good to be a part of a larger cause. It feels good to make even a small difference. It feels good to be in solidarity with people struggling for their right to learn, to work, to live. It feels good to teach peace.
    *Leah C. Wells of Santa Paula is Peace Education Coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation.

  • Summer in Iraq Yields Lessons About War

    Published in the Ventura County Star

    Before we talk about a new war with Iraq, we must recognize that the “old war” never ended. Last month, an airstrike by the United States killed one Iraqi and injured 17 others — and we should not miss the significance of this fact. More than a thousand Iraqis have been killed and many more wounded since the illegal no-fly zones were imposed in 1991 — areas that we purportedly patrol to keep Iraqis safe.

    In spite of the slanted testimony of the recent Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearings on the potential for a renewed war with Iraq, where no dissenters were allowed to speak, the entire world seems to be sending a message to the United States that invading Iraq and deposing Saddam Hussein is an unequivocally bad idea.

    Nations such as Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Turkey and Germany have demonstrated outright disapproval and nonsupport for a U.S.-led war against Iraq.

    Not invited to testify were Scott Ritter, the ex-U.S. Marine who led the UNSCOM weapons inspection team until December 1998 when the United Nations withdrew the group prior to a heavy bombing raid on Baghdad, and Dennis Halliday and Hans Graf von Sponeck, two career United Nations officials who resigned their posts as chief humanitarian coordinators in Iraq in protest of the devastating effects of the sanctions. These three would have provided vital information regarding the status of the Iraqi population, the deaths of more than half a million children due to preventable illnesses and malnutrition, and more than a million total people in Iraq since the Gulf War of 1991.

    “I bear personal witness through seven years as a chief weapons inspector in Iraq for the United Nations to both the scope of Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction programs and the effectiveness of the U.N. weapons inspectors in ultimately eliminating them. While we were never able to provide 100 percent certainty regarding the disposition of Iraq’s proscribed weaponry, we did ascertain a 90 to 95 percent level of verified disarmament. This figure takes into account the destruction or dismantling of every major factory associated with prohibited weapons manufacture, all significant items of production equipment, and the majority of the weapons and agent produced by Iraq,” wrote Ritter July 20 for the Boston Globe.

    Noticeably absent from the dialogue about Iraq is the impact a “new” war would have on the civilian population. A Los Angeles Times report states that much of the fighting this time around would be centered in cities and urban areas, increasing the likelihood of high numbers of civilian casualties.

    Also unmentioned is the impact the war preparation is having on the children of Iraq whose lives are suspended in wait of more bombings. In a letter to American students in reference to the December 1998 bombing, “Please send us gifts and not bombs from Father Christmas.” We must consider the psychological toll that even the preparation for war takes on the children.

    The following stories attempt to humanize the lives of average Iraqis as I encountered them last summer. Not much has changed since then.

    Scenes of war

    Iraq is the cradle of civilization, home to the famed Garden of Eden, to Babylon, to the Tigris and Euphrates, to the Fertile Crescent. It houses the birthplace of Abraham, the mosque of Imam Ali and the most widely accepted evidence of the Great Flood — seashells atop a 4,000-year-old ziggurat in the middle of the desert. Yet, since the Gulf War, the sanctity of this historically significant land has been desecrated and its people demoralized, as I learned while visiting Iraq July and August 2001.

    Daily calls to prayer broadcast throughout the city awakened me to the impact of the sanctions and the residual effects of the Gulf War. The call begins with “God is greater than all.” I quickly learned that since Aug. 6, 1990, the effects of war are even more far-reaching than God.

    Omran

    Omran was a 12-year-old shepherd boy walking through his family’s field in May 2000 when a stray bomb fell from a U.S. plane patrolling the illegal no-fly zones over the southern portion of Iraq. This bomb instantly killed him — and ripped apart the social fabric of his tiny village near Najaf.

    I visited Omran’s family last summer. I tried my best to explain to Omran’s mother, father, brothers and entire village that the memory of their son is not forgotten. Omran’s story has been told hundreds of times to high school students, to colleges, to peace and justice and religious groups across the United States as part of a nationwide project to remember Omran.

    I listened as Omran’s father told of his inexplicable loss, of the pain of losing a child, of no apology from anyone, save the five American pacifists sitting before him hot and dusty in the dry Iraq desert. Omran’s mother, who has scarcely spoken since he was killed and who is suffering from a serious heart condition, embraced me and we shed tears together over the helplessness of the situation.

    Cancer ward

    It is 140 degrees inside the hospital at Amara. The air conditioning does not work because the electrical facilities were bombed during the Gulf War and spare parts are routinely denied as dual-use items by the Sanctions Committee at the United Nations.

    A mother sits cross-legged on her son’s bare hospital bed, a piece of torn cardboard in one hand, fanning her child. She is sobbing uncontrollably, rocking back and forth. Her son is unconscious, dying of cancer; he has no IV bag, no medicine, no painkillers. She has no tissue, so I ask for a handful and give them to her; she glances at me with tired appreciation.

    She places the cardboard fan on the bed and begins to knead at her son’s body — his torso, his legs — in a desperate attempt to rouse him. He does not move. I sit helpless on the sheetless bed next to her, watching, invading this private moment, glued to this scene, futile tears rolling down my cheeks. I think, “This is my fault.” The guilt endures.

    Across the room, the doctor escorting our group through the hospital pokes and prods at sleeping, sick babies causing them to wake up screaming in pain to demonstrate the malignancies, tumors and gross deformities that have mysteriously appeared since the Gulf War. All the children are crying now; all their mothers try to comfort them and not look annoyed that the gawking Americans have disturbed their lives.

    The car accident

    We fasted for a day across from the United Nations on Aug. 6, 2001, in the oppressive heat. At the end of the day, a blowout on the road a few feet from us caused a car to spin out of control and crash into our Iraqi friend’s car — our 70-year-old friend who is a taxi driver and who relies on his car for income. Both cars are totally wrecked, blood everywhere. Spare car parts and new tires are expensive. The transfer rate for the Iraqi dinar to U.S. dollars has been devalued from 3:1 to 2000:1, meaning average Iraqis have virtually no purchasing power.

    I call out for our friend who miraculously emerges from the back seat of his smashed vehicle, banged, bruised and filled with glass in his eyes. He is dazed, then suddenly realizes that his livelihood has been instantaneously taken from him. He starts to cry. I try to negotiate with Kalashnikov-toting soldiers to let our friend get examined by a United Nations doctor for internal injuries before they take him to the police station. We ask another Iraqi how much to junk the car and buy a new one. He looks surprised. “Junk the car? In Iraq, we fix everything.”

    While we in the United States live out foreign wars vicariously through our movies, through the news and through the threats of nuclear force made by those in power, I recall the people I met in Iraq whose lives are considerably less glamorous than the remote Hollywood versions we see and hear about. I often wonder if the case of Iraq is an example of the best our foreign policy can be.

    Iraq is more than its one leader. It is a country of 23 million people who all have stories, hopes and fears.

    Basketball and books

    When 58-year-old Zuhair Matti moved to Los Angeles from Baghdad, Iraq, in March 1977, he hardly figured that returning to his homeland would be an intangible goal.

    A member of the 1973 Iraqi Olympic basketball team, Matti played against athletes from all over the world in the games that symbolize internationalism, peace and sportsmanship. Held in Tehran, Iran, just a few years prior to the Iran-Iraq war, the 1973 Olympics were a chance for Matti to shine as a national celebrity for Iraq. His athletic ability and love of his country and people made him a national superhero with fame and status.

    In 1977, Matti moved to Los Angeles at the behest of his wife, whose family lived here. Now an American citizen with two American-born sons, ages 23 and 14, Matti makes ends meet by working at Home Depot, still pining for a family half a globe away whom he has not seen for 24 years.

    When Matti fled Iraq, he was an officer in the army; he took a vacation and never returned. That, compiled with travel made more difficult by the U.N.-imposed and U.S./U.K.-upheld economic sanctions, which disallow travel to and from Iraq, dims hopes that Zuhair will return to his native country soon. He explains: “Travel is so expensive and I don’t want to return with only a few dollars in my pocket. I want to be able to treat everyone very well when I go back. Iraqis are the most generous people on Earth. They are magnanimous people.”

    Al-Mutannabi Street in Baghdad is a well-known book market there, which offers evidence to the academic and intellectual impact of embargo. Half a mile long, lined on both sides of the street with books ranging from 1980s computer manuals to linguistics textbooks to copies of the Qu’ran, the book market demonstrates the impact on the educated class through a persistent starvation of minds and deprivation of information.

    The street is lined with children peddling comic books and middle-aged men selling novels, manuals and movie posters. The children ought to be in school and the men ought to be working in their professional capacities. Fifty-year-old shoe shiners were at one time physics professors. Taxi drivers were electrical engineers.

    Since it is illegal to send anything weighing more than 12 ounces to Iraq through the U.S. Postal Service, medical textbooks and other professional journals cannot be sent. None of the books I saw was published later than 1989.

    That hot day on Aug. 3, 2001, I met Matti’s brother Gassan selling books on Al-Mutannabi Street. Through a translator, he asked where I live. When I replied that I live near Los Angeles, his face lit up. “Please call my brother when you get back home,” he implored. “Tell him I am well! Tell him our mother is well! Tell him how I look; you see I look well, right? I have not seen him in more than 20 years!”

    One of the few promises I can make to the Iraqis I met last summer is that upon my return, I will tell their stories to as many people as will listen. Upon returning to the United States, I called and subsequently met Zuhair Matti, fulfilling Gassan’s wish.

    “You are a nice young woman, Leah,” Matti tells me. “Thank you for what you are doing for my people.” His gratitude surprises me, yet marks a quintessentially Arab sentiment that for however good you are to someone, the goodness will be returned tenfold to you.

    Perhaps Zuhair Matti will be able to travel to Iraq, whether or not he violates the inhumane sanctions that divide families and isolate the Fertile Crescent from the rest of civilization. Perhaps he will see his aging mother before she passes away. He says that the most important thing is “to judge a person based on how nice he is,” and how important it is to have diverse friends. He believes that people are good, regardless of race and ethnicity.

    Perhaps if more Americans knew Iraqis like Zuhair Matti, we would not be so quick to condemn all Iraqis to a slow death via sanctions or an even more expedient death in a new war.

    Precarious situation

    Prior to 1990, Iraq was deemed an emerging first-world country by the United Nations. The oil empire had brought Iraqi citizens great wealth and a prosperous society that boasted free medical care for every citizen as well as free education up through university. In many ways, the standard of living in Iraq once was comparable to middle-class American life.

    Because of the sanctions, no currency flows in or out of Iraq. Any financial transactions must be approved by the Sanctions Committee 661 at the United Nations in New York. It is illegal to wire money from the United States — or anywhere else — to family inside Iraq’s borders. All goods and funds entering or leaving Iraq must have the approval of the five permanent members of the Security Council whose representatives sit on the 661 Committee. The economy has been at a standstill for 11 years, targeting the civilian population while a powerful few score illegal contracts to smuggle oil out of the country.

    Yet for most Iraqis in 2002, many of the basic health and household amenities are far out of reach. Prior to the Gulf War in 1991, the transfer rate of dinar:dollars was 3:1. Now the transfer rate soars at nearly 2,000 dinar to $1, effectively stripping the average, middle-class Iraqis of any meaningful purchasing power.

    During a visit to a pharmacy in Baghdad, I learned that only the wealthiest private sector can afford higher-quality toothpaste, costing 1,250 dinar (71 cents). The rest of the population buys lower-quality toothpaste at 250 dinar (14 cents). Prior to 1990, diapers cost 18 dinar and were widely used throughout Iraq. A box of 10 diapers in August 2001 cost between 2,000 to 4,000 dinar ($1.14 to $2.29). One bottle of shampoo costs 1,500 dinar, or $1.86.

    An average salary in Iraq is roughly 5,000 dinar per month. The Iraqi government, dominated by the Ba’ath party, employs many people — doctors, teachers, engineers and other civil servants. Prior to the Gulf War, teachers in Iraq earned the equivalent of $300 to $400 per month. They now earn the equivalent of $3 to $4 per month.

    Health care has gained a price tag as well in Iraq. Once-affordable medicines like aspirin are too expensive for people to buy now. Ibuprofen and vitamins cost 200 dinar each (11 cents) for 10 tablets. Twelve capsules of Erythromyacin, an antibiotic, cost 500 dinar (29 cents). Some health-care and household items are available in Iraq and to a certain extent are available to the general public. But, families must spend their money only on necessities such as rent and food rather than on aspirin and cough syrup or trips to the hospital.

    Iraqi families finding themselves in financially precarious situations often take their children out of school and send them to beg, steal, peddle candy or cigarettes or shine shoes. I spent a great deal of time with Achmed and Saif, 13 and 12, respectively, who shined our shoes every day for 750 dinar, less than 50 cents. They arrived at our hotel long before we awoke and stayed until late at night.

    Because of the devaluation of the dinar, often only one child per family will be able to attend school due to the cost of supplies such as books, shoes and clothes. A remarkable increase in both depression and juvenile delinquency has occurred in Iraq in the past 11 years. One 10-year-old boy had been sent by his father to sell cigarettes on the street to increase the family’s income rather than attend school. Many customers took advantage of his naivete, taking cigarettes and promising to return with payment later. At the end of the day, when the boy had no cigarettes and no money to show, his father scolded him and sent him to bed with no dinner. This young boy went to his room, wrapped himself in towels and set himself on fire.

    Once-rare crimes like theft and vandalism are now more commonplace among the young, and because the onset of social problems only began within the last 11 years, state-supported social services have only a feeble infrastructure to deal with the ever-expanding magnitude of these issues.

    Desperation and poverty have contributed to a breakdown in family structure and support. The hopelessness for a better future pervades the culture of Iraq, especially among the youth. Their scholastic apathy shows a scary trend signifying their awareness of their dim future. Regardless of how hard they study in school, they know they do not have promising prospects.

    We must not allow Iraqis to take steps backward toward enforced child labor, divestment from quality education and further poverty. Justice and peace for Iraqis mean that they must have a sense of economic mobility and stability in their society.
    *Leah C. Wells of Santa Paula serves as peace education coordinator for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation. She also teaches at local high schools.