(by Charles Letherwood) On March 19, Tom Dwyer Automotive was a proud endorser of the Veteran’s For Peace Rally commemorating the 8th anniversary of the invasion of Iraq. I was there on behalf of the company, and I’d like to give you this report back from the trenches of the peace movement along with a few of my personal thoughts on the day.
The rally started at Pioneer Courthouse Square with people (estimates range to a high of 15,000, but that’s probably a little high) who turned out to make their voices heard in favor of peaceful solutions to international problems. The clouds and intermittent rain offered little discouragement, nor did the horrible irony that as we gathered to mourn US involvement in one war, another was beginning in Libya. The day started with music, and moved on to speakers on peace and economic issues before the crowd left the square to begin the march. Both the crowd itself and the messages of protest were surprising. While some might expect the crowd to be a stereotype made up solely of anarchists, young idealists, and older hippies, it actually represented every walk of life. I saw young boys, old ladies, and whole families, people in suits and people in costumes, veterans in wheelchairs, and much more. It was a true cross section of America, or at least of Portland. Just as surprising as the diversity of the crowd was the coherence of its message. Demonstrations usually seem to fall into one of two types- single issue rallies (like gay rights) or general disaffection rallies (Tea Party rallies about a range of economic issues). In this rally, there were two distinct targets of equal prominence: end the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and fix the economy for the middle class.
Although I’ve been to many rallies of one type or another, this was the first time I’d participated in an actual march, and as we wound through the streets of Portland I found I had time to think and much to think about. My wife and little girl were with me, and at first I felt good. Here we were, teaching our daughter about the importance of citizenship, participating in society, and making our voices heard. We told her that America was a special place, where we were free to express our opinion without fear of our government. We told her our democratically elected representatives work in our interest, and that they listen to and care about our opinions as they write laws. But as we kept marching, I felt more and more like I was talking about Santa Claus.
My daughter is 7 years old (she would quickly add “Almost eight!”). She has never known a world where our country was not at war. The America she has grown up in is not a democratic republic; it’s a globe-straddling empire. It’s a torture and surveillance state, where citizens can be held without charge or trial. Her putative representatives do not make decisions based on what’s good for her long term future, but on what’s good for the short term interests of their corporate sponsors. The water she drinks has chemicals that were too expensive or inconvenient for the polluters to control, the food she eats is made of chemical fillers or genetically modified stock, and the air she breathes is laden with pollutants ignored by our Environmental Protection Agency. Her public school is an underfunded target of private education providers, and her chances for college drop with every tuition increase. The list goes on.
As we rounded the corner by KOIN center, I got even more depressed. We were near the head of the marchers, under the fluttering “Veterans For Peace” banners. If these people, who know the cost of war first hand and had paid that cost with missing limbs and shattered lives weren’t being listened to, why should anyone listen to me? The marchers stretched behind me, shoulder to shoulder, for more than two blocks. Did anyone know about it? The rally started on the doorstep of one of Portland’s TV stations and passed right by another, but was there coverage? A short article in the Oregonian was all I was able to find after the event. But it’s not like our representatives listen to our concerns even if they hear them. The Wisconsin debacle, ending with passage of legislation restricting citizen’s freedom of association and speech, showed that. How do I tell my little girl to reach for her dreams? Why should I tell her that her voice matters? Is it enough to laud the ideals of what America should be, in the face of what it has actually become?
As we returned to Portland’s Living Room I found myself with far more questions than I started with, and far too few answers. I still don’t know exactly what to tell my daughter. I can’t tell her that her voice does matter, but I can tell her that it should matter. I can’t tell her that she will make a difference, but I can tell her that she has no choice but to try. I can tell her that in spite of the mountains of evidence to the contrary, I still believe the world (and our country) is what we choose to make of it. And finally, I can try to set an example that will answer her questions without words. After years of disillusionment and no rational reason to hope for change, I certainly don’t know how to set that example. But I do know that, just like her, I have no choice but to try.
Maybe that was the best result that anyone could have hoped for from this march… people asking questions and demanding answers rather than being “complacent enough to be complicit in their own subjugation.” And maybe, one by one, those answers will start to make a difference.
So for better or worse, that’s what happened at the Veterans For Peace rally. And here’s the pictures!
