Imprisoned for Peace

personal account by Jean Buskin

When I reported to SeaTac Federal Detention Center (FDC) it was 6months after our sit-in and a week after being convicted of the crimeof failing to obey a police officer.

Last September, twelve of us had overstayed our welcome in ourSenators' offices, shortly before Congress ceded power to George W.Bush to wage war. We wanted a commitment from Senator Cantwell to voteno to war, and the police officers wanted us to leave when thebuilding closed.

When I recently left SeaTac FDC after my 18-day prison sentence, I wasexhausted but happy to see the sky again, unremorseful about my crime,and deeply saddened by the violence in Iraq.

My codefendants and I had considered long and hard before deciding ona sit-in. Negatives included inconveniencing employees who had nodecision-making power, and of course personal inconvenience. Worstcase: no influence on the vote or the war, and being shipped off to acage in Guantanamo. Best case: being the figurative straw thatinfluences a Senator to say no to an immoral and unnecessary war,being acquitted after a brilliant and public antiwar statement incourt. We asked whether the energy it takes to go through a court caseand prison would be well spent.

Together we discussed, individually we pondered. In the end ourpassion for preserving the lives of Iraqis and U.S. military personnelovercame our hesitancy and doubts.

The staff in Senator Cantwell's office were gracious hosts to us,their uninvited guests. We talked for hours while various staffmemberslistened politely and even appreciatively, but the staff were unableto give us any answer, much less the commitment to oppose war we askedfor. Senator Cantwell soon was casting a vote in favor of war.Meanwhile codefendants had not even been allowed into the office ofSenator Murray. She voted no to war, with a statement that bore anuncanny resemblance to the statement we delivered to her office thatsit-in day.

By the time I reported to prison, a war was being waged. I regrettedhaving to miss half of Seattle's 7-day emergency response protest towar.

Codefendant Anne Hall and I entered prison, waving to a group offriends and peace activists who saw us off with song, prayer, andwishes. The mood changed rapidly as we were ordered to stand facingwalls during our intake processing. The indignities began even beforewe were ordered to strip naked. Relieved of our own clothing andinspected, the officer tossed clothing on the floor and then kickedthem to us. Weeks later seeing the contempt of Iraqis for SaddamHussein expressed by kicking a statue, I recalled the contemptdisplayed by the clothes-kicking officer.

From intake to release, most (not all) of the prison staff seemeddetermined to demonstrate contempt for us. We prisoners were forced toask for everything we needed; paper towels, toilet paper, envelops,sanitary napkins, and forms for commissary orders--all of these andmore were kept in the officer's booth in the cell block. We weretreated like children and forced to follow multitudinous rules. In ourdrab gray concrete and pale yellow cells, we were not allowed anythingon the walls, on the little metal desk or the cabinets, not a scrap ofbright paper that could have brightened our scenery. Beds needed to bemade just-so. Any small infraction could lead to dire consequences.Two women late to work were thrown into solitary, and were still there2 days later when I was released.

Work? Most of the prisoners are required to work, some are paid $5.25a month for full-time work. Yes, that's not a mistake, that's permonth! They work in the laundry or kitchen or cleaning, and I'm told alot of it is make-work, cleaning what is already clean. On the otherhand, inmates without high school diplomas take GED classes, and someof the teachers are inmates. Non-English speaking prisoners take ESLclasses.

Speaking of solitary, Anne and I were thrown into solitary for ourfirst two days. This was not a punishment, we were told (yeah,right!); the rationale was that we only were convicted ofmisdemeanors, so we shouldn't have to mingle with felons. Why thenwere we separated in different cells, like any "misbehaving" felon? A little hatch in the door served to push food trays through. Thesecond day we were brought more prison clothes. An officer ordered meto face away from the door and put my hands through the hatch to behandcuffed. Then I was ordered to the far end of the cell. He openedthe door, threw in a bundle, quickly locked the door, and ordered meback to the hatch to have handcuffs taken off. I must be verydangerous! After they let us out of solitary, Anne's experience andmine diverged in our two separate cell blocks. Anne had a severemigraine for which they refused her the medicine she needed, and shesuffered incredibly--and unnecessarily--for 60 hours. All the time themedicine she'd brought along was denied her, the prescription she'dbrought along was ignored.

She was freed early after intervention from a staffmember of SenatorCantwell's office, after advocacy by a lawyer and a friend. Whathappens to inmates without outside advocates? Anne and I both metwonderful inmates. I saw and experienced many instances of kindnessand heard some really sad stories. Other prisoners helped me learn therules and routines, without which I would probably have gotten intobig trouble. People helped one another get through the stresses ofprison. I saw people intervene to prevent fights, where even yellingmatches could get inmates into solitary. We celebrated good news andvisits, and commiserated about family and legal setbacks.

Who is in prison? It's not proper prison etiquette to inquire, butsometimes people mention why they're in. Lots of people are in fordrug offenses and visa violations, things I don't consider to becrimes. Being born in the "wrong" country has no statute oflimitations. Probably half or more of the inmates will serve theirtime and then be deported, even women with children who were born inthe U.S. Back when prison was mainly for violent crimes, there weren'tmany women inmates at all. In the short time since SeaTac FDC wasbuilt, the cells allocated for women have tripled. It's not the kindof women's equality I ever hoped for! How did people react to me, aprotester, in prison more voluntarily than most? Well, first theythought a 20 day sentence was pretty much nothing.

Second they couldn't believe I would have been incarcerated for such asmall offense. Many also opposed the war, and some expressed approvalfor an act of conscience whether or not they agreed about the war.Only once an inmate was very negative. In contrast, prison staff wereoften negative about my crime.

Seeing prison from the inside reinforces my belief that only the fewviolent offenders need to be in prison. There are better solutions todrug use than locking people up. On a more personal level, prisonstaff need major attitude adjustments. I had excellent interactionswith other inmates, and floods of supportive letters from friends andactivists, yet the demeaning treatment had a profound effect on me inthat short time.

The punishment is the confinement, and that is a large deprivation initself. We prisoners do not benefit, and society does not benefit, bystaff rudeness to prisoners! I try to keep things in perspective, andremember that my time inside was just a minor inconvenience with someunpleasant aspects. Some 27 million Iraqis were being bombed, and manywere at risk for starvation and thirst.

There's no comparison! Is it worth it to go to prison? Absolutely, ifjust for the education about the prison system. And effective as a warpreventative? Prison certainly isn't the only place we can protest,but it seemed like a good place to me. Henry David Thoreau said ourprotest of war is heard from a prison cell, and I certainly hope thatis true.

Jean Buskin is a longtime peace activist and resident of Seattle. Shecompiles the Peace and Justice internet calendar atwww.scn.org/activism/calendar. Selections from her calendar appear onpage 12 of this paper each issue.

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