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Listen to Veterans

By Di Wood

Madison, WI — All the players were there — the inspired masses and clever signs; casual, dressed-down politicians — a friendly, slightly older crowd of about 30,000, expressing solidarity with America's workers and angst over the 8th anniversary of America's involvement in Iraq. It was a happening, albeit on a smaller scale than previous weekends in Madison, that shouted: "Pay attention, America! Our labor problems are your labor problems. They will soon be your problems, too."

IVAW at Wisconsin State Capitol, March 19, 2011. Photo by Andie Wood.

Like other recent protests, Madison on March 19, 2011 was amiable and well-orchestrated, a colorful banding together of like-minded souls for a unified "fight" over labor and occupation issues. Well worth the time, over-stimulation and sore feet in camaraderie alone, was it more than a cathartic and meaningful preaching to the choir? The well-intentioned mayor and labor leaders led shout-outs; the dynamic African American fire chief chanted with the crowd and made a joke about how all firefighters look alike. An organized group of grandmothers entertained and educated the crowd with humor and song. They were there in good numbers, giving selflessly what they could of their time and spirit. Did the innate spectacle elevate the day to the highest form of reality theater or something more significant and promising leading to change?

As a near elder, this question kept rising in me. Where was the debate, the dialogue, the opposition, the opportunity to take it to a higher level? Was the middle-aged woman frowning down on us from the second floor Capitol window the only opposition Madison could muster? Were her multiple, futile attempts to close the office curtains the only expression of a possible alternative opinion in the crowd? Will all this heart and effort lead to real change? Who will we inspire but ourselves if no one from "the other side" shows up? Is America so polarized and/or lethargic these days that we end up protesting in a vacuum? What fruits will the day bring to veterans, firefighters, teachers and people of war-torn nations? What did we teach the world about the issues that we didn't already know? Was it good enough to just show up and speak our truth to power if no "power" bothered to show up and listen? Do we have only our numbers and the mainstream media (which was barely present) to carry the message forward?

Vince Emanule in Madison, March 19, 2011. Photo by Andie Wood.

From the earliest days of the Vietnam War, the presence and commitment of veterans protesting the very wars they had just returned from fighting left me, a member of the crowd, near frantic with grief and inspiration. Forty years ago, when the media observed the efficacy and power of soldiers and Marines protesting at the 1972 Republican National Convention in Miami, Vietnam Veterans Against the War (who were running security for IVAW in Madison) were the young bucks and does in tight t-shirts on the streets with the 1,000 yard stares. I was the sultry, long-haired woman on the stage with the guitar. And everywhere — and I mean everywhere — there was controversy, opposition, debate and dialogue. Change happened as a direct result of thousands of very painful exchanges. Our actions were purpose-driven and relentless. Disillusionment, like catharsis, was a means, not an end. Banding together was a means, not an end. These actions helped us sort through our thoughts and motives to stay on the straight and narrow path for change. Rhetoric about "winning the fight" and "them and us," became increasingly meaningless as more and more of our brothers and sisters lost their lives in senseless combat.

In Madison, on March 19th, it was IVAW's day. The message was clearly written on the faces and in the strides of the veterans and workers who were there. No "Wuck Falker" signs, or amazing singing grannies could touch the heart and spirit like a single IVAW veteran walking with purpose toward the capitol dome — no less in a formation of fifty or more. As Gerry Nicosia wrote in his huge (and controversial) Vietnam Veterans' movement tome, Home to War: "They were clearly soldiers, their faces, and sometimes their bodies, showed that they had been there. These men spoke with the voice of experience, and their chants erupted from somewhere deep in their guts, with an irrefutable conviction." I guarantee you that not one IVAW vet needs the ego inflation that the recall of one errant politician would bring, if it would mean bringing one more soldier home alive today. They want an end to the occupations NOW. It really is a matter of life and death.

IVAW at Wisconsin State Capitol, March 19, 2011. Photo by Andie Wood.

As I scanned the crowd, sans guitar, part of the security contingent for IVAW now, I saw that same irrefutable conviction in all of the faces of the veterans around me: IVAW's Aaron Hughes leading the way, Kelly Dougherty showing she still cares. Jason Moon rousing the crowd with his voice, songs and guitar. Big John Zutz standing like a mountain behind the stage, scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble in his role with VVAW security. Marty Webster (despite health problems) "personed" the stage gate. Retired mail-handler, Barry Romo — with no less than 40 years of service to fellow veterans as a leader of VVAW — kept the security contingent alert and on the job. Three first-time security workers, teenagers Aleah Anderson, Andie Wood and Milly "Sachi" Wood, struggled to balance keeping an eye on the crowd with the draw of dynamic speakers and a moving contingent of firefighters. There were other VVAW veterans and supporters on the security, to name some of them, Patti Gmeiner (Western WI), Brian Matarrese (New York), Hannah Frisch (Chicago), Red Kettenhofen (Milwaukee), Janet Parker (Madison), Kathleen Taylor, Nicky Baltrushes, Rich Peters, Kim Scipes. All, including the ones I cannot name, willingly endured personal and financial sacrifice to lend their presence to the cause.

When I dragged my overly weary butt back to the rent-a-car that afternoon, it wasn't the festive aspects of what I'd witnessed in Madison that stayed with me: It was the haunting faces of the veterans marching two abreast at the front of the parade. Straight past the clever signs, three powerful contingents of American veterans: Iraq Vets Against the War, Vietnam Veterans Against the War and Vets For Peace said NO! to a 9th year in Iraq and the calling up of the national guard to defend a misguided governor. As singer-songwriter and IVAW member Jason Moon said, "Scott Walker! You don't need to call the National Guard — we're already here!"

We've got the marches, protests and signs to give voice to the problems. We've got solid recall actions. We've got camaraderie and information. But how do we get the power players into the same room to pound out real solutions to these crucial, life-threatening issues? Solutions that work for the few but negatively impact the many aren't good enough. "There cannot be a dictatorship," noted Spring Valley, WI educator Ned Hilleren. Debate, dialogue and action initiated by a vital, concerned citizenry leading to change is what it is all about. Without the whole spectrum of opinions present, actions like March 19th could end up being just another feel-good, Sunday in the Park with George.

Ask a veteran: Time is too precious for that.

Di Wood is a VetSpeak Co-Founder and VVAW Supporter.

(left) Scott Kimball in Madison, March 19, 2011. (right) IVAW in Madison, March 19, 2011. Photos by Andie Wood.