Monday, March 16, 2009

"The committed life of Peter DeMott" by John Dear, NCR

Friends,

 

We plan to honor Peter DeMott at the Pentagon on Tuesday morning.  Call Max at 410-366-1637.

 

Kagiso,

 

Max

 

Mar. 03, 2009

National Catholic Reporter

 

The committed life of Peter DeMott

By John Dear SJ

 

http://ncronline.org/blogs/road-peace/committed-life-peter-demott

 

Last week, Peter DeMott, 62, a friend to peace and justice people

everywhere, fell from a tree he was trimming. He was rushed to the

hospital and died during surgery. A Vietnam vet and a man of few

words, Peter worked full time since the 1970s for peace and

disarmament. Some of those years he spent behind bars for civil

disobedience. His death leaves those who knew him shocked and

grieving. But we also recall his life with gratitude.

 

“My experience in the military convinced me of the futility of war and

of the sad misallocation of resources which war-making requires,”

Peter wrote. “My faith in God prompts me to work for a world which

unifies us all by ties of love, solidarity and mutual cooperation.”

 

I first met Peter in 1982, at a protest sponsored by Jonah House, home

of Philip Berrigan and Elizabeth McAlister. There Peter lived before

moving to Ithaca, N.Y., where he and his wife Ellen Grady raised four

daughters.

 

But stories about him preceded my meeting him. I knew that in 1980

during a protest at the General Dynamics Electric Boat shipyard in

Groton, Conn., Peter passed by an official van, saw keys dangling from

the ignition and, on the spur of the moment, climbed in, revved the

engine, and -- in a novel enactment of Isaiah’s oracle to beat swords

into plowshares -- rammed the van into a partly constructed Trident

sub. A spontaneous act of disarmament, he called it.

 

Two years later, as part of a Plowshares group, he returned to the

scene of the crime. Having no van on hand, he used a hammer.

 

Just two days before the U.S. war in Iraq began, on St. Patrick’s Day,

March 17, 2003, he and three friends poured their blood in the lobby

of a military recruiting station outside of Ithaca. The gesture was to

disrupt plans for the impending war, the four said.

 

The “St. Patrick’s Four,” as they came to be called, brought down the

government’s heavy hand. But the harder the government pressed, the

more attention the four garnered. With the government embarrassed and

hamstrung, prosecutors could only manage to win a four-month sentence.

 

The sentence completed, and the war now underway, Peter, quite

unchastised, traveled to Iraq with the Christian Peacemaker Team --

there in the spirit of CPT, “to get in the Way.” And just two months

ago, he was arrested again, this time at the Pentagon. He was to

appear in court this Friday.

 

At the recruiting station the four declared:

 

    We mark this recruiting office with our own blood to remind

ourselves and others of the cost in human life of our government’s

warmaking. Killing is wrong. Preparations for killing are wrong. The

work done by the Pentagon with the connivance of this military

recruiting station ends with the shedding of blood, and God tells us

to turn away from it.

 

    We come here today with pictures of Iraqi people -- mothers,

children, those who have been the victims of US bombardment and

sanctions for the past twelve years. We come here with love in our

hearts for the young U.S. service people, also victims of warmaking.

 

Peter and his friends put the protest in the context of America’s

long, noble tradition of civil disobedience: The Boston Tea Party of

1773, the smuggling of slaves to freedom in the 19th century, the

women’s suffrage movement in the early 20th century, the Civil Rights

movement of Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

“These few examples,” Peter said, “could be amplified considerably to

show that civil disobedience has helped to change unjust laws and

practices in our country and has played a significant role in the

realization of a more just and equitable society.”

 

The audacity Peter exhibited in the recruiting station didn’t fail him

in court. At his sentencing he said he looked forward to the day when

President Bush and his cohorts would stand trial for genocide in Iraq.

“The war on Iraq is the crime of the century, and President Bush,

President Clinton and those who have aided and abetted them have

gotten away with murder…. Jesus tells us that those who live by the

sword will die by the sword.”

 

And then he dared lecture the court on matters of law. “It is the

responsibility of each and every one of us to nonviolently confront

those who break the law with impunity, which is what our leaders have

done through their use of lies, deceptions and forgeries to promote

and prosecute this war. The law should promote life and the well being

of everyone and should preserve and protect the earth and its

creatures.”

 

If audacity accompanied him to the recruiting station, and into court,

it surely followed him into prison. In an interview with Rosalie

Riegle, author of the forthcoming Doin’ Time, he said: “I always see

my jail and prison experience as part of that larger context of

nonviolent, peaceful struggle for social change.” The long litany of

American civil disobedience -- including inevitable jail time --

grounds him, he said. The cloud of witnesses who preceded him puts his

work on a noble and solid foundation.

 

As I ponder Peter’s sudden, tragic death, I’m impressed by his

faithful committed life. It recalls to mind Dr. King who, two months

before he died, said that as he thinks on his life and likely

assassination, he didn’t want to be remembered for his awards or

accomplishments. He wanted to be remembered for living “a committed

life.” Dr. King lived such a life, and so did Peter.

 

Many dismissed Peter’s steady work of disarmament, unassuming as he

was. But he suffered for it, kept going like a quiet river when so

many others had given up. Peter DeMott showed us what single-minded,

faithful, Gospel peacemaking looks like. And that, in my estimation,

is an amazing achievement.

 

We mourn his death, but we find lessons. Peter’s dying teaches us how

precious life is, how fleeting it is. And thus it reminds us how

important it is to spend our days working for a just, peaceful world

on behalf of suffering humanity. I thank the God of peace for this

quiet, faithful peacemaker. Let his example inspire us to carry on.

--------------------------------

By line to attached photo: Liz McAlister of Jonah Housae with Peter

DeMott and a donkey named Vinnie outside the White House, December

2007

 

 

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