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Civil Disobedience at Bofors Defence - Reflections
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By Joel Kilgour I do not want the peace which passeth all understanding, I want the understanding which bringeth peace. Hellen Keller Over the weekend of April 19-21, 2002, a few stalwart disarmament activists (representing five nations and scads of worthwhile organizations) gathered in Karlskoga, Sweden for three days of non-violence training, reflection on the arms trade, and civil disobedience at the Swedish war merchant, Bofors Defence. We chose Bofors for a people’s weapons inspections because: 1) It is wholly owned by an American company, United Defense, which is profiting handsomely from the “war on terror;” and 2) It has recently entered into contract negotiations with both the United States and India for development or production of weapons. Such contracts would not only aggravate already violent situations in both countries, but would also seemingly violate Sweden’s tradition of neutrality (not to mention common sense). We wanted to investigate other such nefarious dealings from the inside, as information on arms exports in Sweden is largely confidential. The weekend included the usual media interviews, role plays, lots of good food, and a most abbreviated action in which four of us, cameras and notepads in hand, deftly scaled over a barbed wire fence… and directly into police custody. After spending several hours at the local jail, having my passport confiscated, and now awaiting trial, I was asked by a local news reporter the perennial post-action question: “Was it worth it?” After all, she said, we clearly didn’t change Swedish arms trade policy or convince Bofors to stop making weapons. And around the world people are still being blown to bits by guns and bombs and landmines. As if I needed to be reminded. My response was brief and clichéd: something about how little, patient acts of fidelity are the only things that matter in a world gone mad with power, and that the efficacy of such actions rests in the future, in the seeds planted in people’s hearts, including our own. Afterwards, I wondered what, concretely, I meant by this answer. To base a campaign or a life on entirely abstract ideological or theological notions is foolish and potentially dangerous. But I didn’t need to look far. Throughout the weekend, this jaded American activist was surprised over and again by the humanity and decency of our opponents and by the openness and faith in humanity held by my fellow activists – a faith that is so contrary to the polarity that pervades Western culture. At home, I have grown rather used to being ignored or labelled foolish and un-American, stared at coldly, and, even by the most pleasant police officers, treated to such procedural humiliation and brutality as pain compliance, tight handcuffs and strip searches. The uncomfortable truth is that I have likewise grown to view the police, arms merchants, and even the general and largely apolitical population with suspicion and little hope. But this was different. Again and again we were treated to little moments of grace (which I, of course, immediately distrusted), openings in which we could recognize each others’ humanity: The officer who remembered that the last plowshares action at Bofors happened almost exactly five years ago; the pre-action discussion with Bofors representatives who, hardly pompous, seemed as unsure about the meeting as the rest of us, liberally shared information about their company, and then sent us home with leftover cinnamon rolls: the interrogating officer who apologized to me for any inconvenience caused by my incarceration and his poor English: the security guards who made a point in police reports to identify us as trustworthy and totally non-violent. These sorts of relationships are not an unexplainable anomaly. They didn’t spring from a vacuum in space. What happened this weekend is at least partly the result of good faith efforts by many people over many years to establish a living, respectful dialogue on matters of conscience, the law, and weapon production. For years, Swedish plowshares activists have deliberately engaged in conversation with their opponents at Bofors and the police. Not only for the purpose of gaining valuable information, but based on the belief that all people are of value, and that global transformation (the coming of the reign of God) requires their willing participation, too. I don’t write this to discourage resistance because I think our opponents are nice. I’m not naïve to think that pleasantry and justice are one in the same. And I have not at all forgotten about the horrible weapons produced at Bofors that it boasts can “burst into a cloud of 2500 lethal fragments.” But I mean to say that, in my experience, the peace movement sometimes plays non-violence like a sporting match, hoping only to score points for our team. We can demonize our opponents as well as anyone, questioning all of their motives and assigning them permanent status on the opposition roster. We can also fall into despair when we look up to see the size and equipment advantage of the opposition. This is not the kin-dom of which Jesus spoke. This is another damned earthly battle. While none of the police or security guards or Bofors employees chose to join our action or quit their jobs, perhaps it is success enough to create and sustain the kind of respectful tension that allows each side to see each other as fully human. We should marvel at such a feat in a world in which we are indoctrinated from our very youngest years to view people in terms of bad guys and heroes. Non-violence, like violence, exists unto itself, larger than the sum of its parts. As violence can turn a crowd into a mob, non-violence can enchant us and inspire creativity. It is this contagion that we hope to spread, a hope and faith in a world transformed. And as no one person or group can possess it, and as it cannot be spread through force or coercion, everyone’s willing participation is required to bring it into its fullness. I remain impressed and continually educated by the model of engagement used by the Swedish plowshares movement. Fiery speeches are replaced with congeniality in relations and radicality in action. It pushes the limits, takes the consequences, and all the while maintains a spirit of welcome and admits the possibility of mistakes and the need for personal growth. The simple kindness of our opponents in this action has opened books of questions for me about anarchism and powers and how to proceed with campaigns. This challenge to my stubborn preconceptions is some of the best testimony I can think of to the transformative power of non-violence! And though the questions are not new to me, nor I think to anyone who has engaged in resistance campaigns, they are of perpetual significance to grow into a movement that is effective, just, and beyond any one issue, a movement toward a kin-dom that is big enough for everyone. For all of these questions and new ideas, for the personal growth that comes with risk taking, and for sustained respectful relationships between the most unlikely people, yes, it was all worth it.
May 17, 2002 |
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