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News :: Miscellaneous |
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Local Group Protests At the Gates of Ft. Benning: My Story |
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by Demian Kogan
Email: dakogan (nospam) uiuc.edu (unverified!) |
23 Nov 2001
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After months of planning, and a twelve hour car ride from Urbana-Champaign, Illinois, to Columbus Georgia, a group of 18 students and community members met in a small Holiday Inn off the interstate on Friday evening, November 16, 2001. These 18 people comprised the Urbana-Champaign affinity group to the SOA Watch direct action to close down the School of the Americas. The three days to come would be unforgettable. As a member of the affinity group, this was my personal documented experience at this years’ School of the Americas protest in Ft. Benning Georgia |
Demian Kogan
Urbana, Illinois
After months of planning, and a twelve hour car ride from Urbana-Champaign, Illinois, to Columbus Georgia, a group of 18 students and community members met in a small Holiday Inn off the interstate on Friday evening, November 16, 2001. These 18 people comprised the Urbana-Champaign affinity group to the SOA Watch direct action to close down the School of the Americas. The three days to come would be unforgettable. As a member of the affinity group, this was my personal documented experience at this years’ School of the Americas protest in Ft. Benning Georgia:
Friday November 16, 2001
After getting lost several times, we found the hotel, directly off the interstate. Six of us left from Champaign at 4:00am central time, and arrived at Columbus at 6:30pm eastern time, while the rest of the group left Thursday afternoon. The hotel is filled with fellow activists sporting “New Name, Same Shame” buttons, and “Close the SOA” t-shirts, in addition to the equally present young men and women, some wearing camouflage, while others dressed in civilian clothing fashioning neatly shaved military hair cuts. The polar opposite demographics are striking. After I meet with the rest of our group, and are as settled as one can get in a modest hotel room filled with 10-12 people, my sub-affinity group (2 community members, and 6 students) meet, and we plan our itinerary for the weekend. Afterwards we decided that we wanted to see the actual Fort that night, in its common state. Five of us decide to drive to Ft. Benning. As we approach the fort on a dark road named Ft. Benning road, we see for the first time, the gray sign proclaiming “Welcome to Ft. Benning.” This was surreal. The very same sign that I have seen in documentaries, and read about countless times, was right before my vary eyes. Seeing that sign made it all come true. The School of the Americas was never more real then in that moment. We parked our car on the shoulder, and got a good picture of the sign. After jumping back into the car, all we wanted to do was leave the area. No one would look kindly upon us if they saw us there. We suddenly approached a wall of traffic. These cars were going to the checkpoint at the begging of the everlasting line of brake lights. We then decided to go through the median, and make a U-Turn back off of the fort. We arrived back at the hotel. The Holiday Inn had a stack of the local military newspaper The Bayonet on the front desk. The paper had 3 or 4 articles relating to the protest, including a comic strip that alluded to the fact that protestors get paid for attending the events, and that they receive a “bonus” if they take part in the high risk action. One caricature then asks the protestor what the SOA was, and the protestor does not know. The second article related to the claim that the “disputed” policies of the SOA were changed when the school was shut down, and replaced by WHISC. The ironic aspect of this article was that is was indirectly admitting that the SOA had questionable practices prior to its replacement.
Saturday November 17, 2001
Our morning began with the Funeral Procession Logistics and Orientation. This took place in an old rundown theater, filled with internal life. I asked a woman from Michigan if any of the speakers gave an estimated number of attendees this year. She said that the estimate was 12,000. Indymedia Atlanta later reported 10,000. At the meeting, everyone was asked to repeat a pledge, which would apply to the Saturday rally we would attend following the Orientation, and the direct action on Sunday. This is a copy of the pledge:
SOA WATCH NONVIOLENCE PLEDGE
We ask that you and your affinity group reflect upon and respect these commitments during your SOA vigil action:
Our goal is to expose and close the US Army’s School of the Americas. We will act with full respect for our Latin American sisters and brothers, both living and dead. We will use our anger at injustice as a Nonviolent force for change. We will act with full respect for the diverse nonviolent tradition that SOA Watch embodies.
Accordingly, at today’s Vigil Action - -
· We will carry no weapons
· We will not vandalize.
· We will not use or carry alcohol or illegal drugs.
· We will not swear or use insulting language.
· We will not run in public or otherwise make threatening motions.
· We will not assault- either verbally or physically those who oppose or disagree with us, even if the assault us. We will protect those who oppose us from insult or attack.
· We will honor the emergency decisions of the empowered coordinators and spokes-council representatives.
· Our attitude as conveyed through words, symbols and actions will be one of respect toward all - - including police officers, military personnel, members of the larger community, and all vigilers and members of the SOA Watch family.
· If prosecuted, we will use the judicial process to continue our resistance. When possible, we will put the SOA itself on trial.
· We know this Vigil is part of an ongoing, protracted campaign. We will return to our community and renew our work to close the SOA.
This was said in unison both at the Orientation, and at the Sunday action. Our group then made our way to Golden Park, a minor league baseball stadium. This was the location for Saturday’s Vigil and Rally. Upon our arrival, it seemed difficult to estimate the number of attendants at Golden Park. A safe guess would be between 1,500-3,000 people. The rally had an amazing atmosphere. The event was comprised of speakers and musicians. Knowing that everyone surrounding you, near or far had progressive ideology was utopian. The microcosm was a wonderful change from everyday life. Everyone was very friendly, and social. The tone of the rally was celebratory. Many people were dancing, and every speaker and musician was inspirational. Rev. Joseph Roberson, a Pastor from South Columbus UMC said, “I salute you to stand and march on until victory is won.” At around 12:30, it was announced that three students were arrested Friday night, for driving into Ft. Benning. It would later be announced that they were released the next day. This troubled me greatly, because if we would have driven to the check point that Friday night instead of turning around, we very likely would have been arrested. We didn’t even take that into consideration we went drove into the Fort on Friday night. Had it not been for that U-Turn we took, my story could be very different. At around 3:00, Pedro Diaz gave an amazing speech relating to Colombia. Diaz is a Columbian Human Rights Activist. He spoke about how human rights attorneys are being executed in Colombia for their human rights work. About a half hour later, I went back to the hallway of the baseball stadium and was looking around at the various tables representing various activism organizations. As I was walking I noticed that there was a man with a buzz cut debating with a man stationed at a table. I approached the two and listening in. The military officer was Crln. Jeff Terhune, and he is an instructor of aerial tactics in Fort Benning. He was stating that the SOA is in no way responsible for the human rights violations that graduates have committed; rather the individual graduates are independently at fault. After a few minutes, I got involved in the debate. Jeff and I ended up civilly debating for about 45 minutes. He claimed that the school in no way endorsed the human rights violations that it’s graduates committee. He also said that only 10% of the graduates have been convicted of violating human rights. This is obviously a weak argument because amidst the corruption within Latin American countries, very few violators are brought to justice. The truth is, there is no way to know what the true percentage of graduates who commit human rights violations are. I also brought up the point that the SOA glorifies some who commit human rights violations by inducting them in the hall of fame. This is an endorsement of their actions. Jeff replied that he never heard of the Hall of Fame, and would look into it. He promised me with several witnesses that he would look into the Hall of Fame, and if he found that anyone of the inductees have committed human rights violations, he would do everything in his power to get them taken off the hall of fame. We exchanged email addresses, and I intend to stay in touch with him about the Hall of Fame. The rest of the rally concluded with song and dance. Everyone left feeling happy and inspired. Back at the hotel that night, three of us were making ramen soup outside. An 18-year-old military enlistee approached us, and we began talking to him about the SOA. It turns out that he lives on Ft. Benning and he had barely even heard of the School of the Americas. He didn’t seem to be the brightest person, but he seemed like a decent guy. I asked him why he enlisted, and he said, “Pride for country”. He shrugged while he said it, as if he had answered the question a million times before. He was spewing out buzzwords, with no conviction whatsoever. He said that he was going to be sent off to Afghanistan in six months, “if they don’t get Bin Laden.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was going to be sent somewhere regardless of whether or not we, “got Bin Laden.” He is going to be fighting a war he knows nothing about. If he dies, he wont even know what he is dying for. After attending a jubilant SOA WATCH benefit concert, we returned to the hotel. As I stepped out, I heard one of my group members talking to a young man who was at the hotel. He rented out a room with his friends as a break from life on Ft. Benning for the weekend. The first thing I heard from the conversation, was a question posed to him: “So how old are you?” He replied, “I’m nineteen.” Vivaciously I rapidly replied with a smile, “Oh, I’m nineteen too!” It was the brief excited feeling that one gets when one find something in common with a stranger. Two polar opposites momentarily connected. The moment was faster then a blink of the eye, but for that nanosecond we were the same. This could be someone that if circumstances allowed, could have become friends with me. The conversation then shifted back, and I was once again an external observer. I began to think about the differences between this 19 year old, and I. We started life in a sense the same, but yet nineteen years has caused us to end up so different, he the martially driven fighter, while I the social justice activist. The differences between the two of us could be easily assumed: upbringing, neighborhood, financial background, family structure, social structure, the list can continue. I realized that the fight for a better world is not against this nineteen year old, or the naive eighteen-year-old kid I spoke to earlier. The adversary is in fact that society that has driven these people to give their lives away to the military. It is the people in Washington who wear the nice suits, have chauffeurs, and live in the multi-million dollar mansions, who watch their legislature in action from the comfort of their own homes. Politicians do not care about the kids they send off to die. Our aggression demonstrates this. These kids are merely expendable collateral damage, the protectors of America’s monetary interests, in one manifestation or another, through oil, natural resources, or government control to facilitate globalization. This was a lot to swallow for one night. I pondered it for a while, and then I went to bed. Tomorrow would be the big day.
Sunday November 18, 2001
I awoke from our crowded hotel room, a half-hour after the phone failed to provide a wake up call. After awaking the other ten people sleeping wherever they could find room, we got ready to drive to Ft. Benning road for the funeral procession. As we approached the site of the action, there were boxes filled with white crosses. Each cross had a name and country on it, representing a victim of an SOA graduate, spanning an array of ages and countries. Everyone as far as the eye could see had a cross. Seeing each person with a cross visually demonstrated the magnitude of the number of victims SOA graduates had killed. This was nothing like reading a number on a piece of paper; rather it was a visual depiction of the death caused by SOA graduates. The vigil and memorial service began at around 9:00, with several speakers. At 10:00, the funeral procession had begun. The names of the victims were read, and everyone responded with “presente” to each name called. Each “presente” was accompanied by the raising of every person’s cross. A sea of white crosses engulfed Ft. Benning road, as our message spread through the streets of Columbus. The booming call of “presente” said in unison by thousands could have shaken the walls and very foundation of Ft. Benning. The tactical leaders of SOA Watch directed the protestors in lines of ten. Most of the members in our line were part of our affinity group. Together, we proudly carried our banner, spanning across six of us. The banner was made in Champaign, and now was being carried onto Ft. Benning. Everyone stood still for about 45 minutes, as the names were being called, and followed by “presente” from the crowd. The names ranged in country and age, but most did not surpass the age of 22. After 20 minutes or so, the heat began beating down on us, and the name of a 15-year-old girl, pregnant at the time of her murder was called. This began getting difficult to stand through. This continued for 25 minutes more, and the march then began. The names continued. We slowly and solemnly approached the newly erected fence behind the Fort’s welcome sign. The “die in” had begun, and the right side of the fence was filled with the crosses people had left. The names continued. Our line moved to the left side of the fence. I was standing before the entrance. The months of planning, the devotion of time so many people gave, and the array of meetings could all be summed up in this moment. It was all worthwhile. The names continued, as the chorus of “presente” did not seize. I looked down at my feet, and noticed that I was several feet across the line. Though this year the fence had made the line obsolete, I felt a sense of achievement. I was in the right place at the right time. The mass of crosses was mounting in the fence. I stuck my cross that represented a 3-year-old El Salvadorian child into the fence, to add to the collection. I reached my hand past the fence, and grabbed a stone from inside the fort. After staying for several minutes, I took one last look, and turned my back to the fort. As I walked back up the road with thousands of people surrounding me, I saw the line into the Fort still continued along with the calling of the names. I walked up the road, and sat against the curb, watching the procession continue in solidarity, I silenced. After some time, the puppet pageant began. The tone of the action had changed. People began dancing and chanting. Music began sounding from Ft. Benning road. The funeral procession was reaching its end. We then decided to make our way back home to Illinois, but our work to close down the School of the Americas does not end here, we will continue our fight.
Those three days will be ones I will never forget. The baseball stadium filled with activists brought me hope, the conversations I had with young military personnel at that small holiday inn off the interstate gave me a bit of understanding I was lacking before, the sea of thousands of crosses at the gates of Ft. Benning showed me solidarity, and most of all these three days inspired me to continue my work locally, and nationally. The fight to close down the school that teaches suffering and pain will continue until it is shut down, and there will be people fighting with all their energy collectively until that day comes.
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See also:
http://urbana.indymedia.org/front.php3?article_id=3164&group=webcast
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