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philip berrigan
After 4 Decades of Plowshares Actions, It's Nuclear Warfare that Should Be on Trial -- Not Activists
That was 40 years ago this week -- ancient history by some measures. And no one reading this will be surprised to find that the eight were found guilty and the human family is still threatened by almost 15,000 nuclear warheads. So, four decades later, why isn't nuclear warfare on trial?
They are the crime responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians 75 years ago. They have littered the landscape with radioactive waste. They have cost the United States more than $5 trillion from the public coffers. They are the apocalyptic nightmare on hair-trigger alert that haunt our children's dreams.
On September 9, 1980, my father, Philip Berrigan, along with his brother Daniel, John Schuchardt, Dean Hammer, Elmer Maas, Molly Rush, Sister Anne Montgomery, and Father Carl Kabat, gained entry into the General Electric plant in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. Once inside the complex, they poured blood over two nuclear weapons' nose cones, and used household hammers to dent the metal. They came to be known as The Plowshares Eight. They were motivated by the prophets of the Hebrew scriptures who enjoined that "they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more."
As we mark this 40th anniversary in a strange and fearful time of pandemic, white violence, political instability and economic insecurity, it is heartening and instructive to reflect back on the origins of the Plowshares movement. It was largely white, largely Catholic and relatively small. Their purpose was to take personal responsibility for nuclear weapons -- these implements of mass destruction shrouded in almost mystical secrecy and reverence -- and label them improper property, converting, transforming, exposing and ultimately abolishing them. Plowshares activists don't just hold these views or espouse these beliefs. They conspire. They pray. They act through nonviolent means.
As we mark this 40th anniversary in a strange and fearful time of pandemic, white violence, political instability and economic insecurity, it is heartening and instructive to reflect back on the origins of the Plowshares movement. Over and over in the last 40 years, small groups of activists have gained entry to military installations, warships, submarines, missile silos, weapons manufacturer's office parks and warehouses, air shows, communication hubs and other sites. They have carried bibles and banners, densely researched indictments, blood, hammers and other household tools. More than a hundred of these actions have happened since the Plowshares Eight, and the activists involved have cumulatively spent lifetimes in jails and prisons.
As a priest, my dad has resisted the Vietnam War, trespassed and destroyed property -- at that earlier time, it was the draft records that were calling young men to the killing fields of Indochina. While inviting his older brother Daniel into this new nuclear age conspiracy, Dad called it "a second Catonsville," referring to their May 1968 draft board raid. In a letter included in Daniel Cosacchi and Eric Martin's "The Berrigan Letters," Dad wrote to Dan that; "Quite nearby and we hope, accessible, lies a noxious toy assembly line to which stalwarts may gain entry for an admiring view and perhaps something more."
It is a testament to their well-honed connection and commitment that Uncle Dan did not need a decoder ring to parse out the meaning here. That letter was written on March 4, 1980, and after just six months of planning, the eight acted. In their action statement they declared: "We come to GE to beat swords into plowshares and to expose the criminality of nuclear weapons and corporate piracy. We want to expose the lethal lie spun by GE through its motto 'we bring good things to life.' At GE, darkness shuts out light, death reigns over life. GE is helping the Pentagon prepare for atomic holocaust."
Arrested and jailed, tried and found guilty, my father and his friends faced 25 years in jail. My brother Jerry and I were 5 and 6 years old at the time, and our sister Kathleen was conceived in the midst of the trial. The dire consequences did not temper the activists' spirits or dull their courage. In fact, they were so adamant that they carried their resistance into the courtroom, turning their backs on Judge Salus when he refused to admit some of their expert witnesses and walking out of the court house and heading back to General Electric for a demonstration. When they refused to return to court the next day, vigiling again at the gates of GE instead, they were arrested there and brought back to court in cuffs. In the end, four of the eight received sentences of 3-10 years, three were sentenced to 1.5 -5 years, and Molly Rush, a first-time offender, got 2-5 years.
That first Plowshares action set off a chain reaction. Over the last 40 years, there have been more than 100 similar actions. People are attracted to, and inspired by, the alchemic mixture of symbolic disarmament and real transformation that carries through the action, jail witness, courtroom saga and time in prison. It is a long haul commitment that measures effectiveness in the ineffable stirrings of conscience, the trim-tab turnings toward nonviolence, new strands of conversation and musings -- rather than in Senate bills passed, dollars raised or ground gained.
Arthur Laffin, who compiled "Swords Into Plowshares: Nonviolent Direct Action for Disarmament, Peace, Social Justice," writes of the process of community building and prayer that is a key component of the Plowshares witness, sharing that "People who have been involved in Plowshares actions have undertaken a process of intense spiritual preparation, nonviolence training and community formation, and have given careful consideration to the risks involved. Plowshares activists, accepting full responsibility for their actions, remain at the site of their action so that they can publicly explain their witness."
Indeed, many see the prayer and preparation as the piece of the work that "makes the magic happen." My Uncle Dan recalled the furor around the action as they were first arrested. How did they gain entry? How did they know about the weapons? Was there a leak? Was there inside information? In "Swords Into Plowshares" Dan wrote "Of course we had inside information; of course there was a leak -- our informant is otherwise known in the New Testament as Advocate, Friend, Spirit. We had been at prayer for days."
From King of Prussia to Kings Bay, Georgia
My mother, Elizabeth McAlister, is a veteran of two Plowshares actions herself. Jonah House -- the community she, my father and their friends founded in the early 1970s -- was the incubator of countless others. Mom's most recent Plowshares action took place in April 2018, at the Kings Bay Naval Base in Georgia. She and six others gained entry to the 16,000-acre base on the 60th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination. They trekked through the night to reach sites on the base where nuclear weapons are celebrated and memorialized. Four of the group dismantled the memorials and marked office buildings with blood and messages. Mom and two others were apprehended as they tried to reach bunkers where Trident submarines are stored. Their banners read: "Nuclear Weapons: Illegal - Immoral" and "'The Ultimate Logic of Racism is Genocide' Dr. Martin Luther King" and "The Ultimate Logic of Trident is Omnicide."
"Nuclear weapons forfeit our future."
--Elizabeth McAlisterSix Trident submarines operate out of Kings Bay, and they are the likely launchers of a first-strike nuclear attack. They are armed with D5 missiles capable of traveling over 1,370 miles in less than 13 minutes, allowing for a U.S. nuclear strike anywhere on planet Earth within 15 minutes. The Navy plans to replace its aging fleet of Tridents with the Columbia-class submarine. These new submarines are estimated to cost $122.3 billion. In the indictment they carried on to the base, the Kings Bay Plowshares activists highlighted that "each day this program steals from all in our nation and world by its theft of much-needed resources."
In October 2019, they were tried and found guilty in relatively short order. The judge was willing to engage with the activists about their conscience and formation, but would not allow expert testimony about nuclear weapons, foreign policy or international law. In the end, it took her longer to instruct the jury than it took for the jury members to find the defendants guilty.
In January 2020, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moved the hands of the Doomsday Clock 20 seconds closer to midnight. We stand at 100 seconds to midnight, closer than ever before, because they say "Civilization-ending nuclear war -- whether started by design, blunder, or simple miscommunication -- is a genuine possibility. Climate change that could devastate the planet is undeniably happening. And for a variety of reasons that include a corrupted and manipulated media environment, democratic governments and other institutions that should be working to address these threats have failed to rise to the challenge."
Most of the Kings Bay Plowshares still await sentencing. Mom was sentenced to time served by video conference in June -- a surreal and dislocating experience that is now more and more common in our criminal justice system. Her co-defendants opted to postpone sentencing in hopes that it could be in person, but it is unclear if that will happen.
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Reaping the peace dividends
Last week, my mom and I sat at the edge of a playground watching my 6 and 8 year olds climb and jump. I asked her what she remembered of September 1980. "I remember the feeling of utter relief when I heard that your dad and the rest of the eight were still alive. I felt such gratitude that they were able to do the action without being hurt or damaged. Your dad, when I finally talked to him from jail, was tired but satisfied. He was prayerfully grateful."
My mom, who has spent years in prison after following her conscience, mused, "No one in their right mind wants to take these weapons on. No one wants to take on the consequences. Jail is dehumanizing and removes you from the people you love. Going up against that which defines the United States of America as 'number one' is terrifying. But, I think, that we can address these weapons of mass destruction and help people understand how wrong they are, how destructive they are. We can show people that these weapons take away from every good effort people engage in. They undercut everything we try to do. Nuclear weapons forfeit our future. But our 'no' is heard and inspires others."
Just as there is a direct line between King of Prussia and Kings Bay, we can also draw a line of inspiration and mutual respect between the actions of religiously-motivated nuclear disarmers and the (perhaps more secular) racial justice activists who are toppling, dismantling and replacing racist statues and monuments.
We hope that by the time we mark 50 years since the Plowshares Eight, we are erecting windmills for energy, planting sunflowers to detox the soil, practicing mutual aid, building community and finally prosecuting nuclear warfare and reaping the peace dividends that flower from global nuclear abolition.
50 Years Later, 'Catonsville 9' Burning of Vietnam Draft Notices Continues to Inspire
Despite knowing full well they would be arrested and likely imprisoned, the group did not flee the scene, but stayed as they prayed over the burning notices and waited for the police to arrive.
Along with Daniel, and his brother his brother Philip Berrigan, the other seven who made up the group included: David Darst, John Hogan, Tom Lewis, Marjorie Bradford Melville, Thomas Melville, George Mische, and Mary Moylan.
In their column this week, Democracy Now's Amy Goodman and Denis Moynihan recount the original protest and how it's been commemorated this year:
The 50th anniversary of the Catonsville Nine action was recently held, just blocks from the site where these committed activists burned the draft records. In 1968, the local draft board rented an office on the second floor of the local Knights of Columbus building. The Knights is a conservative Catholic organization and wanted nothing to do with the commemoration, so the official Maryland state historical roadside marker sits about 100 yards away, in front of the public library.
At the marker's dedication ceremony, one of the only two surviving members of the Catonsville Nine, Marjory Melville, walked with us to the scene of the "crime." When asked if, in retrospect, she would have done anything differently, she surveyed the empty parking lot, smiling, and said, "I would do it all over again." Her commitment was reminiscent of Dan Berrigan's, when he was finally arrested after being underground. A reporter asked, "What are your future plans?" Smiling, in handcuffs, Berrigan flashed a peace sign and shouted, "Resistance!"
Fifty years later, the action of the so-called "Catsonville 9" continues to inspire those opposed to the violence and suffering produced by U.S. empire and militarism. As the Baltimore Sun recently reported:
Frida Berrigan [daughter of Phil Berrigan] said the fearlessness and teamwork of the Catonsville Nine have informed her own activism. In 2005 and 2015, she and others traveled to Cuba in defiance of U.S. law, to protest the detention of terror suspects at the U.S. Naval base at Guantanamo Bay.
"We certainly felt like we were going in the spirit of Catonsville," she said.
Last month, a group of Catholic Workers infiltrated the Kings Bay Naval Submarine Base in St. Mary's, Georgia in order to protest the nuclear submarines stationed there and the U.S. imperialism and wars abroad they represent. Calling themselves the "Kings Bay 7," the group specifically cited the Cantonsville 9, as well as the example set by Martin Luther King Jr., as a source of strength and a model for their direct action.
"The Trident and all nuclear weapons are the cocked gun held to the head of the planet," wrote Clare Grady, one of the Kings Bay 7, in a recent letter from jail. "These omnicidal weapons embody all three of the triplets [of racism, extreme consumerism, and militarism] Dr. King spoke of, seeking global dominance for resources. This always has a racial dimension effecting people of color. Black, Brown, Indigenous Peoples are always on the receiving end of deadly force as empire seeks to maintain its global dominance."
And Mary Anne, another member of the group, added, "We must encourage each other to be the resistance needed to end empire. The U.S. government is gearing up to spend over a trillions of dollars on more nuclear weapons. And the U.S. government's ongoing airwars, like lethal and illegal use of MQ9 Reaper drones over Afghanistan and elsewhere is another continual killing many are blind to."
How Do You Tell the Kids that Grandma is in Jail for Resisting Nuclear Weapons?
"Where?" the woman asks, looking from them to me in disbelief and maybe pity.
"We don't remember," the kids say, suddenly done with their story and ready to make passionate pleas for the colorful items in the dollar section over the woman's shoulder.
"Georgia," I say, but I don't have a lot of energy to add detail to my kids' story. They hit all the high points.
"There's a lot going on these days," she says. I agree, and we move on into the store and our separate errands.
I was happy not to say more at that moment, happy to avoid a sobbing breakdown at Target, happy to wrestle one little bit of normal out of a very abnormal day.
My mom, Liz McAlister, who turned 78 in November, had been arrested deep inside the King's Bay Naval Base in St. Mary's, Georgia in the early hours of Wednesday morning. Along with six friends, she carried banners, statements, hammers and blood onto the base. They started their action on April 4: the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King's assassination.
Their statement made connections between nuclear weapons, white supremacy and deeply embedded racism. It is a long statement, but given that they were carrying it into a free-fire zone -- where military personnel are authorized to use deadly force -- there was no particular need for brevity: "We come to Kings Bay to answer the call of the prophet Isaiah (2:4) to 'beat swords into plowshares' by disarming the world's deadliest nuclear weapon, the Trident submarine. We repent of the sin of white supremacy that oppresses and takes the lives of people of color here in the United States and throughout the world. We resist militarism that has employed deadly violence to enforce global domination. We believe reparations are required for stolen land, labor and lives."
They walked onto King's Bay Naval Station just hours after Saheed Vassell was shot and killed in a barrage of bullets by New York City police officers, just hours after hundreds of demonstrators filled the streets of Sacramento for another day, shouting "Stephon Clark, Stephon Clark, Stephon Clark" and demanding accountability after the young father of two was killed by police officers on March 18. These seven white activists know that when you are black in this country, your own corner, your grandmother's own backyard, is a free-fire zone more dangerous than any military base.
There is indeed a lot going on these days.
The statement continues: "Dr. King said, 'The greatest purveyor of violence in the world (today) is my own government.' This remains true in the midst of our endless war on terror. The United States has embraced a permanent war economy. 'Peace through strength' is a dangerous lie in a world that includes weapons of mass destruction on hair-trigger alert. The weapons from one Trident have the capacity to end life as we know it on planet Earth."
Carmen Trotta and Liz McAlister holding a protest sign on the Kings Bay Naval Station. (WNV/Kings Bay Plowshares)
Kings Bay is the largest nuclear submarine base in the world at about 16,000 acres. It is the home port of the U.S. Navy Atlantic Fleet's Trident nuclear-powered submarines. There are eight in total, two guided missile submarines and six ballistic missile submarines. These submarines were all built in Groton, Connecticut -- right across the river from our home in New London. Each submarine, my mom and her friends assert, carries the capacity to cause devastation equivalent to 600 of the nuclear attacks on Hiroshima, Japan.
"Nuclear weapons kill every day through our mining, production, testing, storage and dumping, primarily on indigenous native land. This weapons system is a cocked gun being held to the head of the planet. As white Catholics, we take responsibility to atone for the horrific crimes stemming from our complicity with 'the triplets' [of evil]. Only then can we begin to restore right relationships. We seek to bring about a world free of nuclear weapons, racism and economic exploitation."
That is not the end, you can read the whole statement and their indictment of the United States on their Facebook group.
These sorts of actions -- called Plowshares -- have a nearly 40-year history, since my father and uncle and six others broke into the King of Prussia plant in Pennsylvania in 198o to "beat swords into plowshares." They struck at nosecones with hammers and marked the weapons with blood to reveal the human costs and mess and suffering the weapons are built to wreak in the world.
My father participated in five of these Plowshares actions in his lifetime and helped organize countless others. Committed conspirers, steeped in active nonviolence, have carried out more than 100 of these actions since 1980. This is my mom's second action. She and her current co-defendant Clare Grady, were part of the 1983 Griffiss Plowshares in upstate New York.
My parents estimated that they spent 11 years of their 27-year marriage separated by prison, and it was mostly these actions that kept them apart and away from us. Countless life events in our family -- birthdays, graduations, celebrations of all kinds -- were stuttered by the absence of one of our parents. I say this with pain and loss, but no self-pity. Dad was able to attend my high school graduation, but not my brother's. We went straight from my college graduation to visit my dad in jail in Maine. I missed all the raging keggers, sweaty dance parties and tearful goodbyes that marked the end of college for my friends to sit knee-to-knee with my father in a cramped and soulless room. On chairs designed for maximum discomfort, I tried to share my momentous day and all my 22-year-old big feelings while ignoring the guards and the room crowded with a dozen others doing the same thing. We wrote thousands of letters. They often crisscrossed each other so that there was a constant weaving of story and sharing across the miles.
So, when I explained that grandma was in jail to my kids -- 11-year-old Rosena, 5-year-old Seamus and 4-year-old Madeline -- I felt the weight of a lifetime of missing and provisional family experiences, frequently lived in prison visiting rooms and through urgently scrawled letters.
I tried to figure out a way to talk to them that would make sense and, in thinking it through, I realized that none of this should make sense to anyone! Nuclear weapons? Absurd! Police brutality and white supremacy? Senseless! Plowshares actions with their symbolic transformation and ritual mess-making? A foolhardy act of David versus Goliath proportions!
So, I didn't try to make it make sense. I just forged ahead, grateful that they had some context: We had participated in the Good Friday Stations of the Cross organized by Catholic Worker friends at our local submarine base a few days earlier, and -- the night before -- we had gone to hear a dramatic reading of Dr. King's "Letter from a Birmingham Jail."
"Hey guys, know how we went to the sub base on Friday? Grandma was arrested in a place like that late last night. She is in jail now. She and her friends broke onto the base to say that nuclear weapons are wrong. Remember how Dr. King talked about just and unjust laws?" They nodded and remembered that King said "one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws." I told them that Grandma thinks that nuclear weapons -- things that can destroy so much life on our planet -- shouldn't be built and protected and paid for when so many people are hungry, so many kids don't have good schools to go to, so many people don't have good homes. I went on and on.
"Wait, these nuclear weapons ... They are war things?" Seamus asked.
"Yep, they are war things, bud."
"Good for grandma," he said, and that was the end of our serious conversation.
Mom and her friends are charged with misdemeanor criminal trespass and two felonies: possession of tools for the commission of a crime and interference with government property.
The kids and I didn't talk about the kind of jail time that could mean for their grandma. It is all I am thinking about right now, but they moved on, imagining out loud and with a lot of enthusiasm how grandma got by the attack dogs and police officers they had seen at the Groton Submarine Base. They were sure there was a similar set up in Georgia. "Grandma needed a ladder and a cheetah," said Madeline. "A cheetah is the only animal that can outrun dogs and police officer's bullets."
I am pretty sure no cheetahs were involved in the Kings Bay Plowshares, but I am happy my daughter sees her grandmother as a fierce and powerful anti-war activist astride a wild cat.
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