Now that the extreme left and extreme right have been shooting each other in the streets, perhaps it is time to take a closer look at what we have in common rather than what divides us. I have been involved in nonviolent social change movements for almost 40 years, have been arrested more times than I can remember, and have spent cumulatively over a year in jails and prisons for my actions. I want to share a story of how two people who would be assumed to be polar opposites came together for a moment of clarity and mutual respect.
I was driving a school bus that had been converted into a mobile peace center for a peace walk across southern Wisconsin. It was a huge, colorful billboard festooned with phrases and images that unmistakably labeled it as antiwar. I was parked along a highway at the end of a day waiting to take the walkers to a church where we were staying overnight. That's when the captain showed up.
A pickup truck swung in front of the bus, parked, and a clearly agitated driver got out to give me a piece of his mind. He was a captain in the Wisconsin Air National Guard, and he had taken great offense at our bus, the walkers and me especially as the face of a message he was so incensed with. When he finished his tirade, I thanked him for taking the time to personally engage with us. He got back in his truck and made sure to punch the accelerator, throwing gravel all over the front of the bus. Fortunately, this was not to be the end of our encounter.
About an hour later I was running down a bucolic road continuing my training for an upcoming marathon. I decided to turn around at the next driveway, and that is when I saw his truck parked by his house and children playing in the yard. It was with a moment of trepidation that I decided to run up his rather lengthy driveway. It seemed to me that continuing our abruptly ended conversation on the roadside was the right thing to do.
The look on his face was stunned, and I started by saying that clearly this was an unexpected opportunity, seeing as I couldn't possibly know where he lived. He had the legal upper hand, since I was trespassing on his property, his children were present, and he couldn't know what I was up to or what kind of person I was. Was he going to need to protect his family from me? He invited me to go on.
I told him about my mentors in nonviolence, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, Jesus, Dorothy Day, Philip Berrigan, Liz McAlister and Kathy Kelly. I told him about actions I had taken that had resulted in being arrested and spending time in jail. I told him about taking medicine to children in Iraq during the United Nations sanctions and being with parents of children dying in hospitals because of actions taken by my government, actions that I didn't agree with.
I told him of my understanding of the Geneva and Hague Conventions that direct soldiers how it is illegal to engage civilians in combat and that they must refuse orders to do so. I told him that I was willing to accept the consequences of my convictions, that I tried my best to seek out the truth and to act in good faith with my understanding of those truths.
When I was done, I had apparently told him something that had changed his mind. While our approaches to peacemaking were worlds apart, he needed to hear that I was willing to pay the cost of my convictions. He needed to hear that I was not an armchair activist casting stones and derision from a safe distance at his colleagues who were willing to sacrifice their lives if that was required of them. Our mistaken assumptions about each other needed to be deconstructed. The stereotypes needed to be discarded.