Humanitarian Aid Is Never a Crime...except in Arizona

The DeConcini Court House in Tucson was easy to find this morning: A bunch of old hippies and people of faith with sandals, flowing skirts, graying beards and ponytails, and a few signs were standing around at 8:45am as I drove by. As I approached after parking I noticed a couple of Native Americans in traditional dress - I believe they were Tohono O'odham - smudging the place and blessing Walt Staton. Then, of course, the whole group broke into "We Shall Not Be Moved". That set the stage for the sentencing at 9am.

Walt was sentenced today to one year of unsupervised probation - during which time he's banished from the wildlife refuge - 300 hours of community service picking up litter on public land, and a $25 fee for leaving a jug of water in the desert to try to save a life. More specifically, his punishment was for knowingly leaving "litter" in the Buenos Aires Wildlife Refuge - never mind that he was taking out a bag full of garbage when he was actually ticketed.

Arlo Guthrie would appreciate this story.

That there were 60-70 NMD supporters there was no surprise; they gave us a bigger courtroom and still couldn't fit us all in, partly because so many people came from the wildlife refuge and the US Attorney's office. I wasn't expecting that: about 10 Fish and Wildlife officers were there in uniform. And they had no fewer than six US Marshals on hand in case we got too rowdy or left our water bottles behind.

I don't know quite what I expected, having never been to a NMD event or meeting, but I've never seen a more peaceful, spiritual, centered, supportive group of activists - which is saying a lot. There was a sense of comradery and intimacy among those I suspected were NMD members that I've only experienced a couple of times in my life, both times with people I'd fought alongside for a period of time. You can tell in the whispers and waves across the courtroom, in the hugs and laughter before and after, and in the collective embrace of solidarity. I was one of a few strangers there, but people smiled, joked, and introduced themselves to me as we waited for things to get underway; I felt enveloped by good will. Some activist groups are dysfunctional and consequently ineffective; this is one healthy bunch of people, however. Grounded. Mature. Not the expected descriptors for a bunch of baby boomers and their siblings, but it's the best I can come up with.

At least 20 folks who couldn't fit in the court room waited outside for an hour to find out the results; we all let loose in the hallway after the hearing was over to applaud when Walt came out, and got chased out of the building because we made so much noise. We were exceptionally well-behaved in court, however.

Both of the attorneys went on far too long, but Walt's statement to the court was quite eloquent. He began with noting there was another migrant death in the desert this weekend. He asserted that he believed leaving water out was the right thing to do, and that he didn't regard it as littering even though an NMD member had recently been convicted for the same thing. He reaffirmed that human life is the most fundamentally important factor here - which the judge said was elevating his priorities and goals above those of others (like the staff at the refuge). Really, he somehow managed to stick to his principles - which caused him to protest the $175 ticket in the first place - while being humble and not pissing off Judge Guerin.

Having missed the trial itself, I found the judge hard to read - little expression, no nodding, occasional pointed challenges to the defense when both Walt and his attorney were addressing her. Yet when she sentenced Walt it was apparent that she had already decided what to do - she even did her own research into environmental groups in California (where Claremont School of Theology is) that he could do his community service with. The prosecution was asking for a $5,000 fine and five years of probation. Can you imagine that - after having the government spend some $50,000 on this trial (according to Walt's attorney), the US District Attorney then wanted to monitor him for his humanitarian crimes for five years - presumably so he can be imprisoned (at a cost to taxpayers of somewhere over $50/day) should he leave a jug of water in the desert again. Talk about clogging up the system with pettiness.

I'm not sure how Walt would have fared today if some dialogue about this issue hadn't been started between NMD and the Department of the Interior already. Apparently Ken Salazar called NMD himself to set up a meeting after 13 more NMD volunteers were ticketed in the refuge. NMD has proposed an understanding whereby they could continue to leave water out for migrants as long as they took out twice as much garbage as they bring in - which they do already. And Walt is leaving for seminary next week, so he was able to duck the question of whether or not he would be littering in the desert again.

Perhaps if NMD and the Department of the Interior can come to an agreement soon, the other humanitarian litterbugs will get a break, and NMD can be more effective moving about the refuge. It could really be a win-win for all. And though migrant arrests are down this year, the desert deaths are way up. So, if anyone is inclined to write a nice letter to the Secretary of the Interior about how vital No More Deaths is - not just to migrants, but to the soul of our community - it probably wouldn't hurt.

Blessings, Walt, and wishes for a safe, fulfilling journey. That goes for the whole NMD crowd.

Hope for Arizona's Future

I first prepared this post a couple of days ago in haste. Since then I've had time to think more about the anarchists I've met in recent months - those pictured here and those who remain anonymous. What I've witnessed firsthand is that this predominately young group of people get together every week to discuss how to make their community a better place to live for the poor and dispossessed; how to build sustainable communities; how to challenge things like racism, xenophobia, and police harassment of minorities; how to feed the hungry - not as charity, but through shared vegetarian meals that makes hunger visible and the poor less stigmatized; and how to take a more active role in shaping this town without participating in the processes which corrupt it, like politics.

And every week, without fail, they pass a hat to raise a little cash to support a few political prisoners. It may not come to much, but half of nothing is a whole lot more to prisoners of conscience than a little of everything. If I was a prisoner locked away in a hole, these are the folks I'd want to know I existed, because they'd never forget me...ever.

So, as I said in an earlier post, when Marcia Powell died, I knew these were the folks to seek out who would go all the way, if necessary, to make her life visible and meaningful. In fact, it was Stan, the guy up there with the unabashed full-faced smile in the front, who remembered her from the anarchists' "Food Not Bombs" Sunday meals and delivered the only account of her anyone had at the memorial service that wasn't extracted from her criminal record. Rather, it came from his heart, and from her smile.

These are some of Phoenix's anarchists. They reject domination and hierarchy, even when it would be so much more convenient, like when they run their meetings - it's all done by consensus, which can take forever sometimes. Despite appearances and stereotypes, they aren't really all young, white and male - though I've been known to joke that I'm not enough of any of the above to be an anarchist myself. They're far more diverse a bunch than they appear, and have a fairly sophisticated understanding of what's going on in the world.

Unlike a lot of groups of young people, these folks study and work diligently to figure out their role in making this a better place, and most are involved in the community in a number of positive ways - supporting No More Deaths, the Rusty Spoke Bike Collective, Food not Bombs, Copwatch, the Latino community's battle against racial profiling, the rights of prisoners in our county jail, and the dignity and survival of the poor. When the occasion seems to call for direct action, they also put themselves on the line to protest war, capitalist exploitation, hatemongers, the carceral regime, and yes, those damn neo-Nazis (also known as "Friends of Sheriff Joe").

I'd say that as members of the Valley community, our anarchists represent the best of us pretty well. I've never seen a single one do or suggest a criminal act - no one has even fired up a joint or cracked a beer in front of me. I wouldn't be ashamed for a moment to be seen, photographed, or even arrested with them - even though I frankly still don't really know what an anarchist is. The closest frame of reference I have, in fact, is the Society of Friends. These kids hardly even swear - I'm more vulgar (and probably more of a criminal) than most of them. And when it comes to their collective politics, their community service, and their processes of decision-making, that's who they remind me of - a bunch of Quakers. Abolitionists who would live and die for what they believe in - a few John Browns in the mix, maybe (thank god, really) but mostly a bunch of committed pacifists who would hang for teaching someone to read, distributing anti-racist literature, or protesting the Fugitive Slave Act.

Now, put that in their FBI files, and shove it. And remember this if any of them get put away for manifesting the better half of humanity's conscience - find out their name, declare your public support, and pass a hat. Forget the "rights" of the racist pigs to spew holocaust lies and hate: window-smashing stereotypes aside, if these kids can't be free to express themselves in this country, then the rest of us are in a whole lot more trouble than we ever thought.

These Anarchists Rock!

(Photo stolen without permission from the Feathered Bastard's blog at the Phoenix New Times 07/14/09. Sue me.)