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Recent Similar Articles

Does God Bless Iraq?

Bush Gives Clowns a Bad Name

Lancaster, Pa., is more known for the Amish and politely staunch social conservatism than for a vibrant progressive community. But over the past years, as the Iraq war drags on, our sleepy little city’s left is waking up.

One sign of our awakening is the 700-plus crowd that came out on March 15 to express their discontent with the war. Following are short profiles of people who attended the rally, and the reasons that brought them to Binn’s park that Saturday.

The Warriors Combat medic Spc. Bill Kohler, 38, is nervous about speaking at the rally. He says it’s hard sticking to one topic, he’d like a drink. He’s going back to Iraq again and his marriage broke up, but not because of the brain injury he received in the war. He says he has cognitive snow from his injury but they’re sending him back anyway, and it’s not just him. He says his speech therapist told him he’s one of three soldiers with traumatic brain injuries the Army is sending back to Iraq. Hey, he thinks he’ll get a purple heart.

He has another cigarette.

Kohler and fellow medic, Spc. David Rico, tried to save the life of Sgt. First Class Brent Adams, the son of fellow speakers at the rally, Pam and Bill Adams, but it didn’t work. Adams, 40, died as a result of a roadside bomb in Ramadi, back in 2005.

The Adams meet Kohler and Rico for the first time at the rally. It’s a poignant meeting and the crowd is felt as an interloper to a private conversation. Rico, 26, is luckier than Kohler – after seven and a half years, he’s getting out. He talks about joining the Army.

“I went to a college fair while I was still in school. The colleges looked really good, but how are you going to pay for that?” he asks. “Also, I come from a military background. My family had a soldier in every war, just about. I joined to make my family proud and I have no regrets. I am glad I got to serve.”

And yet Rico’s at a peace rally.

Well … this war’s played out, he says. “In ’05 our job was to escort Iraqi Army troops and police recruits straight out of their training. Their attitude was awful. Some would make it through the training, get paid, and leave the uniform folded on the street. They’d take the money, but wouldn’t do the job. The apathy was hard to take.”

It’s hard to believe anyone is truly apathetic about the fate of their people. True, says Rico.

“But the problem is the government there is seen as puppets of the U.S. If we leave, then they’ll know what happens in their country is up to them. They’ll know we came there for their people, we came to help.”

He says it’ll be worse for a while if we leave. “There will be a struggle, people will die. But it will be their fight for their country.”

Peace is a Family Value Communications arts and social studies teacher Eric Crabtree, 38, brought his 7-year-old son, Ben, to the rally. When asked why, he says, “Shouldn’t everybody?"

And yet, like so many others here today, Crabtree’s not anti-war. “I’m a bit hawkish, I have no problem with the use of military when necessary,” he says. “But invading Iraq was unjustified. It’s a horrible mess. They lied to justify it, and that’s the horrible sin of it.”

And that’s why he brought young Ben, to teach him that when our government acts unjustly, Americans must speak up.

“It’s important for children to understand at an early age they have a voice in the decisions their government makes,” he says.

Ben is glad he’s here. He’s with dad, plus he’s got a sign. “The cheers are fun, too,” says Ben. Like Crabtree, Doug Anthony, 42, brought his children to the rally because he thinks it’s important for them to learn his values young.

“Children are bombarded with uncritical media, and they absorb messages in school that are really one-sided. This rally reinforces our family’s message,” he says.

Unlike Crabtree, Anthony, who teaches African history at Franklin and Marshall college, is a pacifist. “I’m against war in general. I’m an historian and I can see how conflict arises, so war is frustrating to me,” says Anthony. “Also, I’m here to recharge my own batteries,” he says. He feels isolated sometimes, living in conservative Lancaster.

The signs dotting the rally are as thought-provoking and creative as usual. One says “What If God Blesses Iraq?” It’s carried by 13-year-old Seth Culp-Ressler, here with his family. What does he think the answer is?

“Yes, I think God does bless Iraq and it’s kind of stupid for us to have war on them.”

His mom nods approvingly, and mentions the family goes to the Mennonite Community Church, a well-known and supportive church in Lancaster’s progressive community. Peace is a family value at their church, she says.

Blessed are the Peacemakers.

"Over the past few decades religion in American society has become so interwoven with social conservatism that people of faith on the left find their voices overwhelmed by the far right. It’s time to reclaim our heritage," say Kate Diller and Megan Malick, masters of divinity students at the Lancaster Theological Seminary. They take turns offering evidence that Christian scriptures support nonviolence.

Diller, 58, a Unitarian, rattles off the prophets and moves through the Gospels.

“They’re all concerned with peace, ending poverty.“ "Turn the other cheek, walk the extra mile, and so on.”

Not all Unitarians are Christian, but they hold the same respect for the Bible they hold for the teachings of all major faiths.

Unitarians are fixtures at, and often organizers, of ant-war activities in Lancaster. United Church of Christ member Malick, 31, is a bit more restrained, but says she also understands Christianity to stand for peace and against oppression. Still anyone can use scripture and many on the far right argue Christianity condones war. Like, isn’t there a verse where Jesus says, “I come not to bring peace, but to bring a sword?”

“But I look at the whole Bible, and all the Gospels and I take it all in context,” says Malick. “Maybe the verses on the sword are a criticism of the powers that be, the powerful Roman empire.”

“Yes! Bush is the beast!” interjects Diller. “Flip, I know …”

Later on Joe DiGarbo, 60, talks about the peace work he’s done in places like Bosnia.

“After the genocide in the Balkans I wanted to meet a Serb aggressor who was in the war, to hear his perspective, and I got to do that,” says DiGarbo, a Quaker. “It took a while for him to trust me, to talk to me. He told me about battles where he lost his friends. I told him I’m American, doing these workshops on violence reduction, and he became aggressive toward me. But we talked. I asked him if he ever killed anybody. He stopped cold, looked at me and said, ‘Joe, you know me for 45 minutes and you ask me such a thing?’ So we know what happened. We know what he did.”

In the Iraq war, our soldiers are viewed as the aggressor by many people. What is this war doing to them – what does war do to the one who binds the manacles or pulls the trigger?

“If the victim of war survives, then the aggressor is hurt just as bad, if not more. He looks older than his years, not just because of what he saw, but what he did.”

DiGarbo is careful not to minimize the pain and suffering of any victim of war, and the word “survive” isn’t easily defined. But he says it’s important to have compassion for all the victims of war, including those who persecute it.

Same Old, Same Old.

Two women, one pushing a stroller and the other pulling along a small boy, are arguing about Bush and war as they pass the demonstration.

“We see them protesting, so we’re talking about why they’re here,” says Rose Harris, 25. “Nicole has her opinion, I have mine. I don’t think they should have been in Iraq in the first place. Bush is killing our people.”

“We should stay and fight until we get everything from them we deserve,” asserts Nicole, 15.

“What do we deserve!“ shouts Harris.

“I don’t know,” shouts back Nicole. “But we’re over there for a reason. Obviously we want something, we’re fighting for something.”

“What are we fighting for then?” demands Harris. “I don’t know,” says Nicole again. When asked if she trusts our government she is quiet for a few heart beats.

“Yes, I guess I do,” she says. Harris continues to upbraid Nicole as they walk on down the street, stroller in tow.

This argument rages throughout our quiet city and across our nation. What are we in Iraq for, how can we get out? How can we support our troops without condoning what they’re doing, will we ever face what we’ve done there? Do we even know what we’ve?

Later, during the march from the rally to Southern Market, a man jumps from the crowd onto the porch of a row house. Grasping his forearm, the guy on the porch asks him what’s happening here today. “Oh, you know,” he says. “Same old, same old.”