At 8:30am on the morning of Tuesday, September 11, as my subway train
took me just under the World Trade Center (WTC) from my home in Brooklyn
to my job in upper Manhattan, I am struck by a headline from The Daily News,
New York's "hometown" newspaper. Alongside of a photo of mild-mannered African
American educator Patrick Critton screams the news: "Cops Bag Panther-Nabbed
30 Years Afrter Deadly Bank Heist." The story told of a hijacking to Cuba,
following a 1971 bank robbery and involvement in a group loosely connected
to the Black Power group of the late 1960s. Seven years ago, after spending
most of the last three decades living in East Africa, Critton received a
U.S. passport using his own name, and returned to the New York area to become
a teacher and raise his two children. The lauded "sting" operation involved
Canadian and U.S. officials, figuring out through computer files that Critton
had once been a wanted man. No one was killed or even injured in the events
of 1971, but The Daily News joined local law enforcement in an excited celebration
of the capture of this "fugitive ex-radical." By 8:50am, I arrived at my
stop at Columbia University, walked to my office, and found some students
huddled around a radio. The city of my birth, and the world in which we
all lived, was changing before our eyes.
The words "terrorism" and "justice" have been bandied about loosely in the
days since September 11th, with few pundits of the left or right adequately
or honestly defining what they mean. The old truism, that the terrorists
are always the ones with the less advanced weaponry while superpower acts
of aggression and intervention cause the real terror for most citizens of
the world, simply did not suffice at the moment when those passenger planes
made their horrific impact. Of course, the building of the U.S. empire has
meant tragedy not triumph for most of the people of the globe, with the recent
Supreme Court election of George W. Bush simply a crowning achievement of
U.S.-style democracy-in-practice. Of course, the now widely-admitted facts
of C.I.A. training of Osama bin Laden and July 2001 U.S. funding of the Taliban
as an "anti-drug" force is the ultimate example of Malcolm X's pronouncement,
upon the assassination of John F. Kennedy, of the "chickens coming home to
roost." Somehow, however, this knowledge and these notions provided little
comfort as we watched our skyline fill with smoke and ash and human skin.
A calculated and intentional murder of thousands of people seems a clear enough
definition of a terrorist act. Yet throughout U.S. history, the word has
more often been applied to those most rebellious of imperial designs, despite
tactics, strategies, or effects of the perpetrators. It was therefore not
surprising that the link would be made-as civil libertarian Nat Hentoff proclaimed
in the allegedly progressive Village Voice-between the "holy fanatics" of
Al Queda and the "murderous fringe" of the Weather Underground Organization
(WUO) and other groupings from the radical movements of the 1960s and 70s.
Never mind that in it's eight years of existence, the WUO conducted over
twenty bombings against U.S. government military and corporate targets (including
the U.S. Capitol and the New York State Prison Headquarters after the massacre
at Attica), without inflicting one civilian casualty. Never mind that, as
some Black Panthers were turning to acts of violence, the U.S. government
had embarked upon a now-admittedly illegal campaign of assassination of Black
leaders. Never mind that the "terrorists" of the Puerto Rican Armed Forces
of National Liberation and Macheteros were similarly oriented towards symbolic
and non-lethal acts. Never mind that the leaders of the terrorist-branded
American Indian Movement were largely caught up in acts of self defense, protecting
their federally-recognized but FBI-invaded lands. The majority of the U.S.
political prisoners of the twenty-first century, most in jail for more-than-life
sentences having already served twenty-plus years behind bars, are those
deemed terrorist by the most powerful and militarized of nation-states.
Yet they are denied even the obvious concession of official political prisoners
status, even as the term terrorist becomes the newest center of national
obsession.
On the afternoon of September 11, U.S. political prisoners from throughout
the federal system were placed in isolated Security Housing Units, unable
to contact or communicate with their lawyers, to make or receive phone calls,
to receive or send mail. Amongst those placed in segregation are Carlos
Alberto Torres, convicted of the thought crime of "seditious conspiracy,"
Marilyn Buck, an outspoken white anti-racist and anti-imperialist, Sundiata
Acoli of the Black liberation movement, and Phillip Berrigan, plowshares
peace activist. Rumors of further repression against Native American activist
Leonard Peltier, whose internationally-known case is marked by clear evidence
of his innocence, remain unfounded-as of this writing. And while Berrigan
is the only pacifist amongst this group, their commonalities-staunch and
radical opposition to U.S. injustices-were enough to secure their fate.
The logic behind their newly-intensified lock-down status was purely punitive;
all had been in jail long before the recent tragedies, and all had long disavowed
the tactics of true terrorism that Americans only just had become all-too
acquainted with.
Would that we all could take this moment to commit ourselves to understanding,
and putting an end to, all forms of terrorism. Anti-Vietnam War activist
David Gilbert, recently reflecting upon his own experiences in the WUO from
his cell at Attica Correctional Facility, noted that every action they took
responsibility for-ranging from protests of U.S. policies in Southeast Asia,
to condemnations of U.S. racist violence against "internal" national liberation
movements, to property destruction in reaction to the September 11, 1973
overthrow and murder of democratically-elected Chilean President Salvador
Allende-was accompanied by a clear communiqué articulating the
political issues involved. Openly critical of WUO's many errors, including
their romanticization of military means, Gilbert noted that "while there
were never guarantees, we placed the highest priority on avoiding civilian
casualties, and fortunately succeeded." It seems clear, even in middle America,
that the current drive of the U.S. government is guaranteed to have the opposite
effect, and similarly clear that many here are beginning to question the
wisdom of these plans. The War Resisters League national staff, writing
eloquently from their lower Manhattan offices just hours after the 9am plane
crashes-as the WTC was burning just several miles away-suggested that "for
the Bush administration to talk of spending billions on Star Wars is clearly
the sham it was from the beginning, when terrorism can so easily strike through
more routine means. We urge Congress and George Bush that whatever response
or policy the U.S. develops it will be clear that this nation will no longer
accept any policy by any nation which targets civilians. This would mean
an end to sanctions on Iraq, which have caused the deaths of hundreds of
thousands of civilians. It would mean not only a condemnation of terrorism
by the Palestinians but also the policy of assassination of the Palestinian
leadership by Israel, and the ruthless repression of the Palestinian people
and the continuing occupation of the West Bank and Gaza." Would that we
could unite in accepting international standards on the sanctity of human
life.
On September 12, various jails throughout the U.S. Bureau of Prisons began
rounding up inmates of Middle Eastern descent, placing them in solitary confinement,
and-at one prison in Florida-telling them that in a state of war "they would
be the first to be exterminated." No doubt a streak of neo-fascism is alive
and well within the U.S., represented unabashedly within the prison system.
New YorkÃs Black newspaper The Daily Challenge, under the banner
"Terrorism Begins At Home," headlined an article one week after the WTC bombings
on the lack of "comprehensive government operations" against the Klu Klux
Klan and other far-right groups. One is forced to wonder if there is any
possibility of fairness in the upcoming trial of Muslim cleric Imam Jamil
Abdullah Al-Amin, a man considered by most legal observors to be the victim
of a long-standing government conspiracy, who has the distinction-in addition
to his theology-of being one of the most influencial leaders of the 1960s
Black Power movement (when his name was H. Rap Brown). On the other hand,
it should also be mande clear that, as spontaneous hate crimes against Arab
Americans and Muslims is on the rise, so to is a slightly encouraging level
of official denouncements against this mob mentality. In an ironic challenge
for U.S. progressives, there has rarely been a time of such unchallenged
bipartisan governmental acceptance of the necessity of war and, at the same
time, governmental condemnation of racism and anti-Arab violence.
This may ultimately serve as cold comfort at a time when everyone's basic
freedoms are at risk. Writing about the horrendous record of civil rights
abuses during war-time, Congressman John Conyers, the ranking member of the
House Judiciary Committee, commented in The Washington Post that: "History
has taught us that we should not use the threat of violence as an excuse
to suppress legitimate constitutional rights and liberties." Nevertheless,
recommendations of the Bush administration call for a broad increase of police
discretionary powers-including racial profiling, wire-tapping, and search
and seizure rights-ensuring that both the military and the prison industrial
complexes will profit in the coming period. Naming Pennsylvania's Governor
Tom Ridge to the new cabinet-level position of Chief of Homeland Security
is certainly not a good sign, as Ridge has established himself as a zealous
supporter of "aggressive" policing policies, and of the death penalty. One
can scarcely be surprised that Ridge's chief target up till now has been
noted death row journalist and former Black Panther Mumia Abu-Jamal. And
one can only wonder why the term "homeland" was used by the Bush administration,
perhaps unaware of the South African connotations of the word used to refer
to the poverty-stricken Bantustan ghettos. That my city and country is,
as our national anthem claims, the "home of the brave" was substantiated
thousands of times in the days and weeks following September 11. Whether
we are to become, given these histories and obstacles, the "land of the free"
remains very much still to be seen.
As talks of unity have become a staple of our daily news broadcasts, anti-war
advocates must also ask: How are we now to build a united movement, to secure
for the world "infinite justice?" At a time in the U.S. when progressive
organizations were beginning to make vital connections between the evils
of militarism, racism and the class divide, when the peace, anti-imperialist
and workers struggles had only occasional intersections and communication,
the war we are faced with may have a unifying effect. It may also, however,
serve to derail and divide the transnational coalitions necessary to bring
about true and lasting change. It seems clear that the U.S. government is
committing itself to not only enter a new phase of fighting overseas, but
to maintain and intensify its own past wars at home. The U.S. political
prisoners, leaders of their communities and nations, champions of the struggles
of the 1960s and 70s, require support and unconditional release. Our country
can hardly unite, or truthfully comprehend the nature of terrorism, unless
these freedom fighters are allowed to be free. Perhaps, more significantly,
if progressives forget those behind bars, in an effort simply to react to
the latest war-mongering, we will surely be forced to repeat history itself,
with an ever-growing number of political prisoners in our midst. It is time
for us to think and act strategically, to mature as a movement.
In the days following September 11, I realized that my son, Michael Del-who
just turned fifteen months-was almost exactly the same age I was when John
F. Kennedy was shot. It is clear that his world will be fundamentally affected
by the events we now all experienced together, as my generation was affected
by the "fall from grace" that JFK's assassination foretold. I have been
thankful that he is not quite old enough to be troubled by the television
images; no nightmares cloud his evenings as they do most of our days. After
working for many years on many different causes, I have come to know and
respect the insights and leadership of Sundiata, of David Gilbert and Marilyn
Buck, of Leonard and Mumia and Phil and the entire Puerto Rican anti-colonial
movement. I cannot imagine Michael Del growing up in a society where these
visionaries and lovers of life are not around and about, helping in our quests
for an end to terrorism and violence.
I cannot imagine building a successful campaign for justice and peace without
understanding their contributions, and the lessons we must learn from the
experiences that they continue to live. I look over my shoulder, holding
Michael close, and I can barely imagine-all these years since the 1960s-that
they are not home already. For that matter, as I take a new train to work,
over the Manhattan Bridge (my regular train closed due to the disaster fifty
feet above it), I look across to the city approaching, as an eeiry quiet
fills the subway car. I can barely imagine those two towers gone, though
their absence screams out to us in a smouldering void. This is the void faced
by a movement which has yet to reconcile itself with it's own past. It hangs
heavy on my heart; it is time to rebuild.