The author has written two lovely novels about Palestine that are on
Bookshare. And there is a novel on BARD, Now and Again DB84433 which is
relevant in that part of it is about a group of Iraq war veterans and
another part is about the despoiling of the environment in the midwest.
Miriam
Chronicle Of Veterans At Standing Rock
ORGANIZE! #NODAPL, PIPELINES, STANDING ROCK, VETERANS
By Susan Abulhawa, www.veteranstoday.com
December 11th, 2016
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North Dakota - At Standing Rock, so much was not what it seemed from the
distance of news headlines and reports. Up close, one could see the
ideological tension in romanticized groups where some are driven by moral
imperatives and others by personal glory. A hidden truth about the rank and
file of the U.S. military was also laid bare. There are many untold
contradictions behind the drama that unfolded at Standing Rock. Although
this remains a people's struggle against the capitalist interests of a
corporate military state, there are moral inconsistencies that bear telling.
Water Protectors vs DAPL
In April, a small group of Lakota Sioux gathered in a prayer protest against
the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) as its construction progressed toward the
Missouri and Oahe rivers, threatening the only water source of the Sioux
Nation in North Dakota and cities downstream. They came to protect the water
and their call for solidarity reached far around the world. Within weeks,
the water protectors grew into a coalition of over 300 Native American
tribes and received solidarity from individuals, nations, and organizations
around the world. Millions of dollars were raised for the encampment, called
Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fire of the Sioux Nation), which reached as
many as 14,000 individuals. Energy Transfer Partners (ETS) tried to remove
the water protectors, resorting to attack dogs and later to spraying people
with water cannons in subzero weather. But the Sioux and their friends
remained in an inspiring people's struggle against big oil's death trample
through our planet. Many echoed the sentiments of Russell Eagle Bear, of the
Rosebud Sioux, "I've waited my whole life for this." He explained that he
has yearned to see such tribal unity, mass resurrection of native
traditions, and collective stand against the U.S. corporate government's
uninterrupted rape of the natural world for profit.
The standoff gained new momentum when contingencies of U.S. Military
veterans began to arrive. Forming an army of veterans in solidarity with
Standing Rock was the brainchild of Michael Wood and Wesley Clark, Jr. They,
too, had raised a large amount of money (over $1.13 million as of writing
this) for the effort. I came with a group of veterans who left from New York
City on December 2nd and arrived at Cannonball 35 hours later. Hundreds more
arrived from more parts of the country, reaching up to 4000, according to
some reports.
A day before a major blizzard came through, the Army Corps of Engineers
announced it would deny the necessary easement for ETP to continue the
pipeline construction under the Missouri River. Euphoria and victory
celebrations reverberated from the camp through social media and news
headlines. But for many on the ground, a different narrative began to
crystalize.
Dissent and Frustration Among Veterans
While social media and news reports gave the impression of orchestrated
marches by the veterans, the reality was far more chaotic, uncertain, and at
times frightening. In fact, the conflicting instructions and lack of
organization by the leadership of the veteran's group prevented a large
proportion of them from actually reaching the camp. Instead, they were
shuffled by an absent leadership from one town to another, for training or
events that never took place. We were housed in gymnasiums between Eagle
Butte, Fort Yates, and Cannonball, and some of us had to be moved more than
once in the span of three days. Most echoed the sentiments of Marine
Sergeant Jessica Palmadessa who described the veteran's deployment as "a dog
and pony show."
The veterans who went to the camp generally did so of their own accord,
deciding to break away from the group as frustrations began to mount. "I
didn't come to cook and clean in a gym for vets, even though I don't mind
it. I came to stand with Native Americans, whether cooking and cleaning in
their kitchens, fighting on the front line, or whatever they wanted me to
do!" said Tamara Gabbard, veteran Sergeant in the Army National Guard.
So they did just that. They just left, packed into the back of pickup or
UHaul trucks or hitchhiked to the camp in sub-zero, low visibility
conditions to get to Oceti Sakowin camp. There they found ways to be useful,
whether marching with other water protectors to the bridge, helping in the
kitchens or engaging in prayer around the Sacred Fire.
Stranded Vets, Left To Their Own Devices
Veterans who continued to trust that organized directives would come through
from their leadership never actually made it out of gymnasiums, with the
exception of one trip to the casino where a ceremony of gratitude was
expected to take place by tribal elders at 8am, which was to be followed
shortly after by a drive to a camp, where a full day of action was to take
place. Everyone was up, dressed, fed and watered by 06:30, and made it to
the casino shortly after 07:00. We arrived only to realize that no one at
the casino knew anything about the ceremony. Finally, around noon, something
was cobbled together and tribal elders began showing up. It was not clear
whether they knew anything about it prior to that morning, but it
nonetheless turned out to be a very moving ceremony. Many people cried as
the elders spoke of their struggles and what solidarity meant to them. At
one point, a group of veterans bowed before the elders in apology for the
sins of their government and society that all but eradicated First
Americans.
Soon after the conclusion of the ceremony, it became clear that we were
going to be stranded at the casino, as a snow storm was moving in and
driving conditions were too hazardous. There was only a concrete floor in an
indoor pavilion where people could sleep. There were no sleeping bags
either. All rooms were sold out. Only Michael Wood and Wesley Clark had
rooms at the casino. They had booked them in advance, as they were not
staying with the veterans they called up.
A few casino patrons offered to share their rooms, but overall the situation
seemed untenable, particularly as alcohol was more abundant than food, or so
it seemed. A handful of us decided to brave the weather in a 4-wheel truck
to get back to Fort Yates. Except in movies, I have never seen such
white-out conditions, nor known such cold or wind power. Cars with flashing
hazard lights littered the sides of the road and we stopped at each, but
there were no passengers inside. People here know to immediately get to the
nearest shelter, and homes keep their lights on precisely to guide those who
become stranded.
We made it to Fort Yates where our cots and sleeping bags were a more
welcome sight than they would be under normal circumstances. There were
already over 160 veterans there. Food was low and more evacuees were
expected. The veterans were clearly on their own.
Meanwhile, their leadership continued to post on social media from the
casino. At one point, Wesley Clark tweeted that mercenaries from Gulf States
were hiding in the casino to assassinate him. That tweet elicited a
collective eye roll at Fort Yates. "He's probably drunk," someone said. But
later, in a letter of apology for the "errors in [his] attempt at
leadership," Wesley Clark assured the vets that he drank no alcohol, but was
rather very sleep deprived as he spent inordinate time "in a diplomatic role
between the multiple factions and interests."
A Miracle Unfolds at Fort Yates
As the vets realized no one was looking out for them, something of a miracle
began to unfold at Fort Yates. Retired Chief Warrant Officer Clark Brown
immediately took charge. He was an enlisted Army Ranger, Officer in the
Night Stalker 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, Airborne, where he
was a pilot for 19 years of his 22-year service. Within an hour, he had
organized a chain of command, established work stations for the kitchen,
registration, medics, counseling/morale, communications, clean up,
bathrooms, and more. As a member of the Lenape Nation on the east coast and
adopted son of the Lakota Sioux, Clark also had some connections that helped
him secure food from local businesses. Then he sent out out crews into the
storm with heavy four wheelers to gather whatever they could of food and
supplies, most of which he paid for from his own money (which he expects
will be reimbursed from the raised funds).
Several vets had brought their dogs and one of them, Titan, was dying with
kidney failure. Individuals took shifts sitting with Titan to offer comfort
and sometimes give water through a syringe. Although the gym had a few
shower stalls, we all smelled and a plumbing problem in the men's bathroom
threatened to add a sewage problem to our predicament. This was an example
of issues that Clark dealt with. He managed it all, with help from willing
volunteers, of course, and pulled it off without a hitch, with the exception
of a minor scuffle between two women who disagreed on how to treat Titan in
his final hours.
They even baked a cake and had a birthday party for Dakota, a local boy who
turned 12 years old. He and his brother had been staying at Fort Yates with
us while their parents helped collect gear and supplies for the veterans.
Clark walked them home every evening. And on the afternoon of his birthday,
Dakota not only got a party, but a full military promotion ceremony, with a
uniform, honorary rank, and drills and salutes I did not understand. Dakota
was clearly overjoyed.
To the delight of the stranded at Fort Yates, local Native American veterans
came to share sacred songs and tribal dances. Those who did not have a duty
passed the time playing cards, talking, or reading.
PTSD "Powder Keg"
But there were yet more layers. This was not a big party or
lemon-come-lemonade story. It was a gym full of frustrated veterans with
high levels of PTSD. Master Sergeant Butch Patch said, "it could be a powder
keg when you have that much PTSD in one room." From where he was sitting,
Butch watched as one man brought a pill to another who sat quietly alone.
"He knew the signs and went over to take care of him. The guy might have
just run out of his meds. Folks just take care of each other."
Some spoke openly about their PTSD, and one night, I saw what it looks like
to be haunted by memories that live in your body, waiting to be activated by
sound or light or smell. Jessica Palmadessa slept on a cot next to me in the
"comm station," which was the gym utility room where were were surrounded by
electrical panels and boilers. Some time in the middle of the night someone
pushed at the door, knocking over a piece of wood that landed with a loud
thud on the ground. Jessica shot up in a visceral, confused scream that at
first terrified me. She was inconsolable for a time after, until finally she
gathered her wits and calmed. Later, when she gave me permission to tell
this story, she told me that she had been sexually assaulted in her sleep
while in the military.
At the ceremony in the casino, a tribal elder spoke of the high levels of
trauma in the room - all of it inflicted by the U.S. Government in one way
or another on native peoples and veterans alike. Two Sioux medicine persons,
who identified themselves simply as Frances and Lawrence, gave some of the
veterans spiritual medicine, with wheel pouches that contained prayers. When
Clark Brown took charge of taking care of everyone at Fort Yates, one of his
first directives was that everyone look out for each other. His leadership
on site took something that was potentially very volatile - a couple hundred
of vets with PTSD in one space with insufficient food and water in the midst
of a snow storm - and created a harmonious atmosphere, studded with a
birthday party, song, games and deep conversations.
Redemption
The vets were very welcoming of me, even though I am a civilian, or "civi"
as they say. It was inspiring to watch they way they immediately coalesced
as a family, however dysfunctional. I liked them very much, and I had to
keep reminding myself that many, perhaps most, were killers. At a minimum,
they had made possible the dismantling and decimation of whole nations
around the world. It was difficult to reconcile the genuine affection I felt
with the knowledge that these were folks who had chosen loyalty to a flag
instead of life. Yet, being at Standing Rock, they were making a very
different choice now.
I was not shy about my own politics and soon found that many wanted to talk
with me, knowing that I have no love for the military. In two separate
conversations, I admitted that I thought patriotism was a social disease.
One person paused to take in the idea and then she agreed. The other got
tears in his eyes, lowered his head and took off his hat awkwardly, said
"you're right," then walked off. He hugged and thanked me later, but didn't
say why.
What I learned is that most of these men and women have been broken in one
way or another by the military. Many enlisted to have a better life. Some
for a scholarship. Some because it was their only option. Some to escape
toxic homes. They never questioned that they were the good guys. Nearly all
believed that U.S. adventures abroad were guided by a moral compass and
ideals of freedom, until they arrived and learned otherwise. "Once you're in
and you see how much you've been lied to, all you can do is try to stay
alive and keep your buddies alive," said one navy veteran who did not want
to be identified. "By the time you start to understand that you might be the
bad guys, you're already fighting for your own survival and you do whatever
you have to do to stay alive and keep your buddies alive until you can get
the hell out."
I heard different versions of that same narrative from others. When they
left the military, some decided to immerse themselves in current affairs,
history, resistance and social justice struggles around the world. Sam, a
veteran who appeared to be in his twenties, had taken up the Palestinian
cause. "It's one of the most important struggles today," he said, showing me
the Palestinian flag set as the background photo on his mobile. Others are
simply trying to contend with nightmares that haunt them in waking and
sleeping hours. John, a veteran of multiple wars, went to live in the woods
with his dogs, to "get my head straight," he said. He travels and sets up
his yurt wherever he wants. Here, his yurt was the medics station. Most vets
just resumed their lives as best as they could, not giving further thought
to the nagging sense that their lives were used as cannon fodder to enrich a
ruling elite.
So, when the call was put out for veterans to join Native American water
protectors in the blizzard conditions of North Dakota, they did not hesitate
to act. Everyone came with a story and a life put on hold, galvanized by a
sense of purpose and righteous defiance. At first, most echoed what one
veteran told me, "I came to uphold my duty to protect Americans for all
enemies, foreign and domestic; and ETP is a domestic enemy of the people."
But in the intimacy that comes from trying to survive a storm in an
unfamiliar place, the language changed, and it became clear that this
mission was more about redemption for so many of them. "I want to be on the
right side of history this time," one veteran told me. And another, who was
retired from the military, "I want to finally do something to protect the
American people. I don't think I've never done that in all my years of
service."
"Forked Tongues" All Around
When the news of the Army Corps' decision came, tribal Chairman Dave
Archambault declared victory and told everyone to "go home." While some did
just that, many refused to leave, staying put despite severe weather.
Ladonna Bravebull Allard, who founded Sacred Stone, the first of several
spiritual camps of the water protectors, insisted that Archambault did not
speak for the them. She said, "We don't go nowhere." Social media posts and
other messages from activists warned that ETP could start construction as
soon as people leave because it's cheaper for them to pay fines than incur
the cost of further delays.
During the ceremony at the casino, Sioux Elder Crow Dog reminded all in
attendance that the U.S. Government has always spoken to Native Americans
"with forked tongues." He warned that the battle was not over and there was
much work still to be done. Indeed, within hours of the Army Corps'
decision, North Dakota Congressman Kevin Cramer vowed to fight to reverse
the decision, insisting that he will work with Trump's incoming
administration to put the pipeline back on track.
But there were other forked tongues. In early September, Dave Archambault
told KFYR-TV local station that he is not interested in rerouting the
pipeline or finding alternative transport for crude oil. Rather, he said he
wants to see alternative and renewable sources of energy. However, less than
three months later, in an interview with Canadian Broadcasting Corporation
immediately after the Army Corps denied the easement, Archambault said he
did not wish to stop pipelines, including DAPL. He said, "What I'm asking is
to reroute this pipeline off treaty lands or if if you're going to continue
infrastructure projects like this, give us an opportunity to give consent."
To most people hearing those words, it seemed like Archambault used the
water protectors not to actually protect the water, but to demand a place at
tables of power where corporate decisions are made and people are made rich.
Activists questioned how rerouting the pipeline could be a victory when the
goal was to stop it entirely. Canadian vet Chris Shaw, who first saw the CBC
interview, was appalled. Dave Kelser, Army Intelligence veteran and current
national park ranger said, "I didn't come here to help grease Archambault's
palms."
Then there were the men who collected over a million dollars, brought a few
thousand veterans to Standing Rock and essentially abandoned them, knowing a
blizzard was eminent. Clark Brown was generous at first, saying "I believe
Mr [Wesley] Clark and Michael Wood were ill prepared to execute this
operation. There was a lack of foresight on their part." Then he added,
"They utilized the presence of vets for their personal gain." When asked
that that gain might be, he said, "maybe fame and financial gain." He said
they spent no time with "their troops," which was something I observed, too.
But, "they continued as if they were running the show," he said.
When the storm broke and we started to find our way out, the NYC group
remained stranded as the chartered bus had broken down. I had been able to
get to Bismarck airport with a few others, where I had a six hour wait for
my flight. When we heard that my group might still be stuck at Fort Yates as
yet another storm was approaching, we got to work trying to get them out of
there. Eventually I found myself on the phone with Michael Wood. He said,
"it's not my problem. The chartered bus will get to them eventually." He was
not concerned that it could take days and resented the suggestion that it
was his responsibility to help find a solution, particularly as Jessica
Palmadessa's anxiety was in full swing by that point. When I suggested
renting vans to get them to the airport and getting them tickets to go home,
he thought it was a good idea and said he would absolutely pay for it. It
didn't come to that, however. A bus showed up to take them to Eagle Butte,
where they were better supplied to wait out the storm, and their chartered
bus showed up a few hours later to head back to NYC. Clark Brown and
Elizabeth, his second in command, both self-appointed, refused to leave
until everyone was safely out.
Contours Of A Great Society
Every struggle gets streaked with opportunism and hypocrisy, and Standing
Rock is no exception. But the big picture remained unchanged. Ordinary
people risked their lives, day after day for months, using only their bodies
and prayer to stand in the path of capitalism's death trample through our
planet. Unarmed and unprotected, they faced off with our corporate military
state's unrelenting pollution of air, soil and water. No matter what
happened - and all that happened should be told - it was an example of epic
collective heroism and courage. Being at Oceti Sakowin encampment or with
the veterans in a gym, it was easy to see the contours of what a great
society could look like. People lived communally. Sharing and gratitude were
the principle driving forces. The unspoken understanding was that everyone
there must be taken care of, and everyone must work or contribute as their
abilities allow. Violence, weapons, drugs and alcohol were forbidden.
The struggle at Standing Rock is a palpable pulse of humanity's growing
anxiety over the degradation of the natural world. It is a warning from the
people that we are growing intolerant of those who will decimate whole
nations of animals, birds, fish, insects and humans for an uptick in stock
prices, executive bonuses, or lucrative contracts.
Unfettered capitalism has been a virulent metastasis that scorches the earth
wherever it passes, leaving less and less to sustain life. The most
vulnerable suffer the consequences first, whether from changing climates
that bring floods, melting ice caps, heat waves and other disasters brought
by climate change; or from the suffocating ashes of wars that bring whole
nations to their knees for the financial gains of a ruling elite whose
fortunes are never enough.
Now, the unarmed protestors and protectors who oppose them are not alone. A
people's army of veterans is forming. They have vowed to regroup with better
organization, accountability, and ideological analysis to continue what they
started. In the final analysis, the overarching narrative and bottom line of
Standing Rock is that we hold Earth, our small and vulnerable planet, in
trust for future generations of all living creatures. It is not ours to
pillage and leave to rot. And the subtext of this truism is that moral
clarity is not the exclusive purview of victims or any particular racial or
cultural groups. Rather, it is an available and viable option to every
individual.
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Chronicle Of Veterans At Standing Rock
Organize! #NoDAPL, Pipelines, Standing Rock, Veterans
By Susan Abulhawa, www.veteranstoday.com
December 11th, 2016
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North Dakota - At Standing Rock, so much was not what it seemed from the
distance of news headlines and reports. Up close, one could see the
ideological tension in romanticized groups where some are driven by moral
imperatives and others by personal glory. A hidden truth about the rank and
file of the U.S. military was also laid bare. There are many untold
contradictions behind the drama that unfolded at Standing Rock. Although
this remains a people's struggle against the capitalist interests of a
corporate military state, there are moral inconsistencies that bear telling.
Water Protectors vs DAPL
In April, a small group of Lakota Sioux gathered in a prayer protest against
the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) as its construction progressed toward the
Missouri and Oahe rivers, threatening the only water source of the Sioux
Nation in North Dakota and cities downstream. They came to protect the water
and their call for solidarity reached far around the world. Within weeks,
the water protectors grew into a coalition of over 300 Native American
tribes and received solidarity from individuals, nations, and organizations
around the world. Millions of dollars were raised for the encampment, called
Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fire of the Sioux Nation), which reached as
many as 14,000 individuals. Energy Transfer Partners (ETS) tried to remove
the water protectors, resorting to attack dogs and later to spraying people
with water cannons in subzero weather. But the Sioux and their friends
remained in an inspiring people's struggle against big oil's death trample
through our planet. Many echoed the sentiments of Russell Eagle Bear, of the
Rosebud Sioux, "I've waited my whole life for this." He explained that he
has yearned to see such tribal unity, mass resurrection of native
traditions, and collective stand against the U.S. corporate government's
uninterrupted rape of the natural world for profit.
The standoff gained new momentum when contingencies of U.S. Military
veterans began to arrive. Forming an army of veterans in solidarity with
Standing Rock was the brainchild of Michael Wood and Wesley Clark, Jr. They,
too, had raised a large amount of money (over $1.13 million as of writing
this) for the effort. I came with a group of veterans who left from New York
City on December 2nd and arrived at Cannonball 35 hours later. Hundreds more
arrived from more parts of the country, reaching up to 4000, according to
some reports.
A day before a major blizzard came through, the Army Corps of Engineers
announced it would deny the necessary easement for ETP to continue the
pipeline construction under the Missouri River. Euphoria and victory
celebrations reverberated from the camp through social media and news
headlines. But for many on the ground, a different narrative began to
crystalize.
Dissent and Frustration Among Veterans
While social media and news reports gave the impression of orchestrated
marches by the veterans, the reality was far more chaotic, uncertain, and at
times frightening. In fact, the conflicting instructions and lack of
organization by the leadership of the veteran's group prevented a large
proportion of them from actually reaching the camp. Instead, they were
shuffled by an absent leadership from one town to another, for training or
events that never took place. We were housed in gymnasiums between Eagle
Butte, Fort Yates, and Cannonball, and some of us had to be moved more than
once in the span of three days. Most echoed the sentiments of Marine
Sergeant Jessica Palmadessa who described the veteran's deployment as "a dog
and pony show."
The veterans who went to the camp generally did so of their own accord,
deciding to break away from the group as frustrations began to mount. "I
didn't come to cook and clean in a gym for vets, even though I don't mind
it. I came to stand with Native Americans, whether cooking and cleaning in
their kitchens, fighting on the front line, or whatever they wanted me to
do!" said Tamara Gabbard, veteran Sergeant in the Army National Guard.
So they did just that. They just left, packed into the back of pickup or
UHaul trucks or hitchhiked to the camp in sub-zero, low visibility
conditions to get to Oceti Sakowin camp. There they found ways to be useful,
whether marching with other water protectors to the bridge, helping in the
kitchens or engaging in prayer around the Sacred Fire.
Stranded Vets, Left To Their Own Devices
Veterans who continued to trust that organized directives would come through
from their leadership never actually made it out of gymnasiums, with the
exception of one trip to the casino where a ceremony of gratitude was
expected to take place by tribal elders at 8am, which was to be followed
shortly after by a drive to a camp, where a full day of action was to take
place. Everyone was up, dressed, fed and watered by 06:30, and made it to
the casino shortly after 07:00. We arrived only to realize that no one at
the casino knew anything about the ceremony. Finally, around noon, something
was cobbled together and tribal elders began showing up. It was not clear
whether they knew anything about it prior to that morning, but it
nonetheless turned out to be a very moving ceremony. Many people cried as
the elders spoke of their struggles and what solidarity meant to them. At
one point, a group of veterans bowed before the elders in apology for the
sins of their government and society that all but eradicated First
Americans.
Soon after the conclusion of the ceremony, it became clear that we were
going to be stranded at the casino, as a snow storm was moving in and
driving conditions were too hazardous. There was only a concrete floor in an
indoor pavilion where people could sleep. There were no sleeping bags
either. All rooms were sold out. Only Michael Wood and Wesley Clark had
rooms at the casino. They had booked them in advance, as they were not
staying with the veterans they called up.
A few casino patrons offered to share their rooms, but overall the situation
seemed untenable, particularly as alcohol was more abundant than food, or so
it seemed. A handful of us decided to brave the weather in a 4-wheel truck
to get back to Fort Yates. Except in movies, I have never seen such
white-out conditions, nor known such cold or wind power. Cars with flashing
hazard lights littered the sides of the road and we stopped at each, but
there were no passengers inside. People here know to immediately get to the
nearest shelter, and homes keep their lights on precisely to guide those who
become stranded.
We made it to Fort Yates where our cots and sleeping bags were a more
welcome sight than they would be under normal circumstances. There were
already over 160 veterans there. Food was low and more evacuees were
expected. The veterans were clearly on their own.
Meanwhile, their leadership continued to post on social media from the
casino. At one point, Wesley Clark tweeted that mercenaries from Gulf States
were hiding in the casino to assassinate him. That tweet elicited a
collective eye roll at Fort Yates. "He's probably drunk," someone said. But
later, in a letter of apology for the "errors in [his] attempt at
leadership," Wesley Clark assured the vets that he drank no alcohol, but was
rather very sleep deprived as he spent inordinate time "in a diplomatic role
between the multiple factions and interests."
A Miracle Unfolds at Fort Yates
As the vets realized no one was looking out for them, something of a miracle
began to unfold at Fort Yates. Retired Chief Warrant Officer Clark Brown
immediately took charge. He was an enlisted Army Ranger, Officer in the
Night Stalker 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, Airborne, where he
was a pilot for 19 years of his 22-year service. Within an hour, he had
organized a chain of command, established work stations for the kitchen,
registration, medics, counseling/morale, communications, clean up,
bathrooms, and more. As a member of the Lenape Nation on the east coast and
adopted son of the Lakota Sioux, Clark also had some connections that helped
him secure food from local businesses. Then he sent out out crews into the
storm with heavy four wheelers to gather whatever they could of food and
supplies, most of which he paid for from his own money (which he expects
will be reimbursed from the raised funds).
Several vets had brought their dogs and one of them, Titan, was dying with
kidney failure. Individuals took shifts sitting with Titan to offer comfort
and sometimes give water through a syringe. Although the gym had a few
shower stalls, we all smelled and a plumbing problem in the men's bathroom
threatened to add a sewage problem to our predicament. This was an example
of issues that Clark dealt with. He managed it all, with help from willing
volunteers, of course, and pulled it off without a hitch, with the exception
of a minor scuffle between two women who disagreed on how to treat Titan in
his final hours.
They even baked a cake and had a birthday party for Dakota, a local boy who
turned 12 years old. He and his brother had been staying at Fort Yates with
us while their parents helped collect gear and supplies for the veterans.
Clark walked them home every evening. And on the afternoon of his birthday,
Dakota not only got a party, but a full military promotion ceremony, with a
uniform, honorary rank, and drills and salutes I did not understand. Dakota
was clearly overjoyed.
To the delight of the stranded at Fort Yates, local Native American veterans
came to share sacred songs and tribal dances. Those who did not have a duty
passed the time playing cards, talking, or reading.
PTSD "Powder Keg"
But there were yet more layers. This was not a big party or
lemon-come-lemonade story. It was a gym full of frustrated veterans with
high levels of PTSD. Master Sergeant Butch Patch said, "it could be a powder
keg when you have that much PTSD in one room." From where he was sitting,
Butch watched as one man brought a pill to another who sat quietly alone.
"He knew the signs and went over to take care of him. The guy might have
just run out of his meds. Folks just take care of each other."
Some spoke openly about their PTSD, and one night, I saw what it looks like
to be haunted by memories that live in your body, waiting to be activated by
sound or light or smell. Jessica Palmadessa slept on a cot next to me in the
"comm station," which was the gym utility room where were were surrounded by
electrical panels and boilers. Some time in the middle of the night someone
pushed at the door, knocking over a piece of wood that landed with a loud
thud on the ground. Jessica shot up in a visceral, confused scream that at
first terrified me. She was inconsolable for a time after, until finally she
gathered her wits and calmed. Later, when she gave me permission to tell
this story, she told me that she had been sexually assaulted in her sleep
while in the military.
At the ceremony in the casino, a tribal elder spoke of the high levels of
trauma in the room - all of it inflicted by the U.S. Government in one way
or another on native peoples and veterans alike. Two Sioux medicine persons,
who identified themselves simply as Frances and Lawrence, gave some of the
veterans spiritual medicine, with wheel pouches that contained prayers. When
Clark Brown took charge of taking care of everyone at Fort Yates, one of his
first directives was that everyone look out for each other. His leadership
on site took something that was potentially very volatile - a couple hundred
of vets with PTSD in one space with insufficient food and water in the midst
of a snow storm - and created a harmonious atmosphere, studded with a
birthday party, song, games and deep conversations.
Redemption
The vets were very welcoming of me, even though I am a civilian, or "civi"
as they say. It was inspiring to watch they way they immediately coalesced
as a family, however dysfunctional. I liked them very much, and I had to
keep reminding myself that many, perhaps most, were killers. At a minimum,
they had made possible the dismantling and decimation of whole nations
around the world. It was difficult to reconcile the genuine affection I felt
with the knowledge that these were folks who had chosen loyalty to a flag
instead of life. Yet, being at Standing Rock, they were making a very
different choice now.
I was not shy about my own politics and soon found that many wanted to talk
with me, knowing that I have no love for the military. In two separate
conversations, I admitted that I thought patriotism was a social disease.
One person paused to take in the idea and then she agreed. The other got
tears in his eyes, lowered his head and took off his hat awkwardly, said
"you're right," then walked off. He hugged and thanked me later, but didn't
say why.
What I learned is that most of these men and women have been broken in one
way or another by the military. Many enlisted to have a better life. Some
for a scholarship. Some because it was their only option. Some to escape
toxic homes. They never questioned that they were the good guys. Nearly all
believed that U.S. adventures abroad were guided by a moral compass and
ideals of freedom, until they arrived and learned otherwise. "Once you're in
and you see how much you've been lied to, all you can do is try to stay
alive and keep your buddies alive," said one navy veteran who did not want
to be identified. "By the time you start to understand that you might be the
bad guys, you're already fighting for your own survival and you do whatever
you have to do to stay alive and keep your buddies alive until you can get
the hell out."
I heard different versions of that same narrative from others. When they
left the military, some decided to immerse themselves in current affairs,
history, resistance and social justice struggles around the world. Sam, a
veteran who appeared to be in his twenties, had taken up the Palestinian
cause. "It's one of the most important struggles today," he said, showing me
the Palestinian flag set as the background photo on his mobile. Others are
simply trying to contend with nightmares that haunt them in waking and
sleeping hours. John, a veteran of multiple wars, went to live in the woods
with his dogs, to "get my head straight," he said. He travels and sets up
his yurt wherever he wants. Here, his yurt was the medics station. Most vets
just resumed their lives as best as they could, not giving further thought
to the nagging sense that their lives were used as cannon fodder to enrich a
ruling elite.
So, when the call was put out for veterans to join Native American water
protectors in the blizzard conditions of North Dakota, they did not hesitate
to act. Everyone came with a story and a life put on hold, galvanized by a
sense of purpose and righteous defiance. At first, most echoed what one
veteran told me, "I came to uphold my duty to protect Americans for all
enemies, foreign and domestic; and ETP is a domestic enemy of the people."
But in the intimacy that comes from trying to survive a storm in an
unfamiliar place, the language changed, and it became clear that this
mission was more about redemption for so many of them. "I want to be on the
right side of history this time," one veteran told me. And another, who was
retired from the military, "I want to finally do something to protect the
American people. I don't think I've never done that in all my years of
service."
"Forked Tongues" All Around
When the news of the Army Corps' decision came, tribal Chairman Dave
Archambault declared victory and told everyone to "go home." While some did
just that, many refused to leave, staying put despite severe weather.
Ladonna Bravebull Allard, who founded Sacred Stone, the first of several
spiritual camps of the water protectors, insisted that Archambault did not
speak for the them. She said, "We don't go nowhere." Social media posts and
other messages from activists warned that ETP could start construction as
soon as people leave because it's cheaper for them to pay fines than incur
the cost of further delays.
During the ceremony at the casino, Sioux Elder Crow Dog reminded all in
attendance that the U.S. Government has always spoken to Native Americans
"with forked tongues." He warned that the battle was not over and there was
much work still to be done. Indeed, within hours of the Army Corps'
decision, North Dakota Congressman Kevin Cramer vowed to fight to reverse
the decision, insisting that he will work with Trump's incoming
administration to put the pipeline back on track.
But there were other forked tongues. In early September, Dave Archambault
told KFYR-TV local station that he is not interested in rerouting the
pipeline or finding alternative transport for crude oil. Rather, he said he
wants to see alternative and renewable sources of energy. However, less than
three months later, in an interview with Canadian Broadcasting Corporation
immediately after the Army Corps denied the easement, Archambault said he
did not wish to stop pipelines, including DAPL. He said, "What I'm asking is
to reroute this pipeline off treaty lands or if if you're going to continue
infrastructure projects like this, give us an opportunity to give consent."
To most people hearing those words, it seemed like Archambault used the
water protectors not to actually protect the water, but to demand a place at
tables of power where corporate decisions are made and people are made rich.
Activists questioned how rerouting the pipeline could be a victory when the
goal was to stop it entirely. Canadian vet Chris Shaw, who first saw the CBC
interview, was appalled. Dave Kelser, Army Intelligence veteran and current
national park ranger said, "I didn't come here to help grease Archambault's
palms."
Then there were the men who collected over a million dollars, brought a few
thousand veterans to Standing Rock and essentially abandoned them, knowing a
blizzard was eminent. Clark Brown was generous at first, saying "I believe
Mr [Wesley] Clark and Michael Wood were ill prepared to execute this
operation. There was a lack of foresight on their part." Then he added,
"They utilized the presence of vets for their personal gain." When asked
that that gain might be, he said, "maybe fame and financial gain." He said
they spent no time with "their troops," which was something I observed, too.
But, "they continued as if they were running the show," he said.
When the storm broke and we started to find our way out, the NYC group
remained stranded as the chartered bus had broken down. I had been able to
get to Bismarck airport with a few others, where I had a six hour wait for
my flight. When we heard that my group might still be stuck at Fort Yates as
yet another storm was approaching, we got to work trying to get them out of
there. Eventually I found myself on the phone with Michael Wood. He said,
"it's not my problem. The chartered bus will get to them eventually." He was
not concerned that it could take days and resented the suggestion that it
was his responsibility to help find a solution, particularly as Jessica
Palmadessa's anxiety was in full swing by that point. When I suggested
renting vans to get them to the airport and getting them tickets to go home,
he thought it was a good idea and said he would absolutely pay for it. It
didn't come to that, however. A bus showed up to take them to Eagle Butte,
where they were better supplied to wait out the storm, and their chartered
bus showed up a few hours later to head back to NYC. Clark Brown and
Elizabeth, his second in command, both self-appointed, refused to leave
until everyone was safely out.
Contours Of A Great Society
Every struggle gets streaked with opportunism and hypocrisy, and Standing
Rock is no exception. But the big picture remained unchanged. Ordinary
people risked their lives, day after day for months, using only their bodies
and prayer to stand in the path of capitalism's death trample through our
planet. Unarmed and unprotected, they faced off with our corporate military
state's unrelenting pollution of air, soil and water. No matter what
happened - and all that happened should be told - it was an example of epic
collective heroism and courage. Being at Oceti Sakowin encampment or with
the veterans in a gym, it was easy to see the contours of what a great
society could look like. People lived communally. Sharing and gratitude were
the principle driving forces. The unspoken understanding was that everyone
there must be taken care of, and everyone must work or contribute as their
abilities allow. Violence, weapons, drugs and alcohol were forbidden.
The struggle at Standing Rock is a palpable pulse of humanity's growing
anxiety over the degradation of the natural world. It is a warning from the
people that we are growing intolerant of those who will decimate whole
nations of animals, birds, fish, insects and humans for an uptick in stock
prices, executive bonuses, or lucrative contracts.
Unfettered capitalism has been a virulent metastasis that scorches the earth
wherever it passes, leaving less and less to sustain life. The most
vulnerable suffer the consequences first, whether from changing climates
that bring floods, melting ice caps, heat waves and other disasters brought
by climate change; or from the suffocating ashes of wars that bring whole
nations to their knees for the financial gains of a ruling elite whose
fortunes are never enough.
Now, the unarmed protestors and protectors who oppose them are not alone. A
people's army of veterans is forming. They have vowed to regroup with better
organization, accountability, and ideological analysis to continue what they
started. In the final analysis, the overarching narrative and bottom line of
Standing Rock is that we hold Earth, our small and vulnerable planet, in
trust for future generations of all living creatures. It is not ours to
pillage and leave to rot. And the subtext of this truism is that moral
clarity is not the exclusive purview of victims or any particular racial or
cultural groups. Rather, it is an available and viable option to every
individual.
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