Peace Talk — Winter 2005-06
The Quarterly Newsletter of Peace Action Maine“We both know that there are real monsters. But there’s also real heroes that fight monsters. And that's me” — Buffy, The Vampire Slayer
“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” — Christopher Reeve
I was ten years old when I learned that monsters didn’t live under my bed or in the darkness of my closet, but in missile silos around the world. Those terrors were far scarier than any boogey man. I felt too small and powerless in the face of infinite destruction. I retreated to realms where good always triumphed over evil and there was always a hero to save the day.
There is an all-powerful Evil (with a capital E) that rules the land or wants to take it over. There is a prophecy that a Hero (with a capital H) will be born to defeat this evil, and people hope and wait. The hero is born, generally of the common people, often an orphan, and is reluctant to accept the name of Hero and its duty and burdens. The obstacles to be faced appear insurmountable. The people hear of the Hero’s arrival and unite behind the banner of Good. Until the last moments it seems that Good will be defeated; then the Hero arrives with the magic sword to defeat the Evil in a final confrontation of legendary proportion. Frodo destroys the ring, Luke Skywalker defeats the evil emperor, Buffy defeats the First Evil, or four children run the White Witch out of Narnia. In come the bards and there is celebration.
This brings out a longing in me: to have the people of our land rise up with one voice and to stand against those who oppress them; to have everyone refuse to serve any other than the cause of good for all. It would be wonderful if that Hero came forth today and spoke the words that unified the world, and The Moment that changes us forever finally happened. I think about this on those days I feel the suffering in this world is more than I or anyone can heal or when a march or rally doesn’t get adequate press coverage. I begin to despair that our message will never get out or I find myself face to face with a person who thinks it is okay to hate someone because they are not white, straight, male, or the right religion, or that bombing another country into rubble is a sane way to solve the world’s problems.
I imagine a moment when a speech, at a rally or vigil, spoken by a humble and unassuming person, is broadcast on CNN. The words are so moving that those who watch call their neighbors and friends. Each and every radio station and television channel across the globe switches to this speech and the words that would free us all are passed around. It is across the worldwide web in hours and within days there is not a person on the planet who has not heard the words—words that reach across any boundary of culture, race or religion. One by one the oppressors skulk off to whatever place they came from, never to be heard from again, knowing that a unified people can never be ruled.
U.S. history has been shaped into moments like this. The story of the ride of Paul Revere is told to American schoolchildren in its romanticized form, made popular by Longfellow’s poem. We close our eyes and hear hoofbeats on cobblestones, we hear his voice echoing through the fog (because it surely must have echoed and it surely must have been foggy), alerting Boston to the crown’s arrival. Paul Revere was only one of many riders that night, but we believe that without his midnight ride the American Revolution would not have occurred. We have all seen the paintings of George Washington standing in the bow of the boat looking noble and general-like, leading a fledgling nation to victory over tyranny, and the one of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, a radical act now preserved as a musical, in which the people are all as noble as the cause. We bring these events up to the level of legend.
These stories exist throughout all movements—talismans against the suffering that we see around us. The peace and justice movement has Mother Jones standing at the head of a coal miners’ strike on a dirt road in Virginia; Gandhi leading the people to make salt; Martin Luther King, Jr. giving the “I Have a Dream” speech.; Alice Paul outside the gates of the White House, demanding the right to vote; Harriet Tubman leading people through the night to freedom on the underground railroad. I see a handful of people walking the railroad tracks to block the incoming construction vehicles that will break ground for the Seabrook nuclear power plant.
In the United States, where nearly anything can be had in an instant, patience is hard to find. We march or carry a sign, then we go home and cry because we had what we thought was The Moment and it passed without any seeming effect. “There were 500,000 people there; why is the world not different today?” We look to embody evil in George Bush, or the right wing, or the big corporations. We nearly gloat when one of them comes crashing down, a victim of their own power, and then we mourn when another rises up to replace him. We take every action with the hope that this will be our ultimate victory. We feel disheartened when that quick victory does not come.
Would Paul Revere’s ride, as it occurred or as it is told, have been effective if there had not already been a desire for independence amongst the people? Would Harriet Tubman have been able to guide so many to freedom and safety had there not been others who were also willing to take the risk to help a fellow human being? How many women worked for the rights of all women but never lived to stand alongside Alice Paul in 1920 when we finally won the right to vote? How many people spread the word, made the phone calls and drove the buses to Washington to hear Dr. King speak? In all those childhood tales no hero stands alone and no magic moment occurs through the act of single person, but these are not the stories we are told.
It has not yet been a century since women won the right to vote in this country. To women today the idea of not having the right to vote or to have to fight for it, is unimaginable. Our great grandmothers had no voice, no choice or say in who made the laws that would govern their lives. December, 2005 marks the 150th anniversary of the Thirteenth Amendment abolishing slavery. Today, the very idea of owning another person is repugnant to us, but our great grandparents, were they wealthy enough, could have owned slaves or if born with dark skin, have been slaves.
Like the heroes of the adventure tales, we are swept into the flow of change. There was a time when each of us was unaware of the actions of our government. War was something that happened far away. Maybe we lived comfortably for most of our lives, never seeing the poverty that existed right next door. Until something opened our eyes. Faced with the magnitude of what was before us we wanted to hang our heads in despair, but we couldn’t. There is something that drives us to take action despite the obstacles we face. We volunteer at shelters and soup kitchens, we raise money to feed those far away, we speak out, we talk to our neighbors and confront apathy. We do these things with the knowledge in our hearts that in the end, truth, justice and peace are what will prevail.
We may feel small in the face of what we must overcome. Politicians do not govern based on the wishes of the people. Corporations have too much money, control over the media and too many friends’ in Washington. One person can begin to feel helpless. Even our heroes—Harriet Tubman, Alice Paul, Mother Jones, Gandhi, Dr. King— are just men and women called to do things that make the world better. We hear the telling of their tales and think we could never be as great as they, but we are, just by saying that we won’t stand for the situation as it is.
There is no one hero coming to lead us all against the ultimate evil, who will drive all hate and all suffering from the land. There will not be the moment when we are able to take that deep breath of relief and go home to sing of our victory.
The hero is us. We are the ones who take action to bring change here and around the world. The bards are you and I. We are the ones who must spread the tale of truth, the saga of justice and the epic of peace. We must sing the songs that will open hearts and minds. Our victory will be a gradual one; more people will come and join us. Our monsters are many, but we know their names: racism, classism, war, sexism. Our great moment will not be brought about with a magic sword or through any mighty final stand. It may not happen during our lifetime. It may be that when our children or our grandchildren read the tales of the ones who came before, whose names may be forgotten, but who stood before the monsters and said, “You will not win,” they will be amazed that such monsters ever lived.
Joie Grandbois-Gallup is a writer, activist, pagan who lives in Portland Maine with her life partner and their three spoiled kitties.