Democratic Values in the Balance

Margaret A. Burnham, an attorney and former judge, teaches political science at MIT. Active during the campus anti-apartheid and divestment campaigns in the 1980s, she was one of a very few African American women on the MIT faculty at that time.

In the wake of the terrorist attacks, the peace movement faces a formidable challenge. It must, and quickly, echo and shape the American voice for an effective response to the attacks and for a transformed foreign policy, and, reaching through the din of warrior calls, it must recast its message and rebuild its constituency. As I write, the nation is suspended in an apprehensive calm before a deadly storm, awaiting a war against unspecific enemies, of unknown duration, and undefined objectives. Suspended, too, at least in the halls of government and much of the media, has been full democratic debate over the consequences of the threatened retaliatory strike.

The terrorist assault has left us afraid, but equally to be feared is the imminent war and the loss of democratic rights, both of which will likely more deeply and permanently undermine our country than the September 11 attacks themselves. Although not in a very long time have we been on the brink of so many possible disasters, the components of an effective mobilization against such a devastating war and its sequella at home are at hand. Building on its historic traditions, and incorporating contemporary movements for global justice, the peace movement can become a relevant and effective force in this crisis. But what is required are careful strategies that have a broad reach, a proactive agenda, and a sensitive, inclusive message.

In the first place, given the imminent and plausible threat to the safety of Americans, the call for a military response--even if it reflects instinctual and primitive emotions--requires a considered response. What is needed is an affirmative, instrumental argument about the efficacy--or inefficacy--of force in these circumstances, one that speaks beyond the adage that all are blinded if an eye lost must lead to another. If, combined with a truly multilateral non-military counter-terrorism strategy, a military strike would enhance our security, then what is the moral argument for rejecting force in self-defense?

Some in the peace movement have argued that since the attacks can be taken as a response to US escapades abroad, and since our own policies in the post World War II period have led to far more devastation than the losses we suffered on September 11, a counter-attack cannot be justified. But ultimately, these claims are a mirror image of the reductive, caricatured terms in which the crisis has been cast by the Administration and by some in the media--good vs. evil, light vs. darkness, our way of life vs. theirs. Preparing the American people fully to absorb the complex answer to the question "why do they hate us?" will require more than pointing an accusatory finger and rehearsing the body count of our government's misadventures around the world. Purely polemical explanations for the terror at the World Trade Center will fall on deaf ears and threaten to alienate necessary support for the upcoming campaigns for peace. An informed debate can take place only if the security threat is acknowledged as potent and ongoing, and the search for a solution to terrorism is seen as genuine. And asserting that terrorism and American militarism are tit for tat is a necessary, but neither a sufficient nor satisfactory answer. Americans may yet come to understand that the real remedy for terrorism is to eliminate its causes, but that is not an easy lesson to teach or to learn, especially where, as here, the moral, political or religious grievances of the terrorists are not entirely clear.

Also important is a careful reading of newly emerging expressions of patriotism. As the strike against us was based on nationality, flags and patriotic songs have been for some a comforting response. The proliferation of these symbols can signal danger--they help mobilize public support for precipitous military action, and they suffocate democratic debate by reinforcing chauvinistic definitions of Americans and Americanism. We've seen this hyper-Americanism, too often, before. Vietnam war protesters were cursed as un-American, as were Japanese-Americans and socialists before them, and civil rights workers and communists after them. A famous photograph from the 1970s captures the flag as a weapon thrust into a black man by a Boston anti-busing demonstrator. And in some sense, the climate today bears a frightening resemblance to the "red scares" of the 1950s, when Americans were told their "enemy" could be found in every classroom and union hall. Similarly, the terrorists, it is said, are everywhere; by implication, any Arab-American could be a terrorist. This classic recipe for a witch-hunt has already swept in thousands of Muslims, Arabs, and anyone resembling them, and, if not abated, it will ensnare thousands of dissenters, immigrants, and others.

At the same time, however, the expressions of nationalism we witness today suggest there may be new alliances bundled under patriotism that are cutting against resistant racial and class divisions. Unlike Vietnam, opposition to the enemy here is fierce, unanimous, and completely understandable. Moreover, unlike the McCarthy era, the enemy is real and really despicable. Unity of purpose and spirit seems appropriate, if not compelled, in these circumstances. Hence, it is possible that a fresh definition of "American" may be synthesized from the rubble of the attack, reflected in the diversity of the WTC victims and of the city workers who sought to rescue them. This new unity against terror could become unity for global peace and for the best of our democratic traditions, just as it could as easily become exclusionary and racist.

Here is where the peace movement can take advantage of this period of redefinition and reflection, an extraordinary "teaching moment" in which Americans will be considering new multilateral strategies and the irreversible interdependence of the global village. While the argument for no counterattack has not yet--if ever it could be--persuasively been made, there is a significant, if muffled, constituency for restraint and skepticism. If we are to launch a war, many Americans are asking, shouldn't we know against whom, against what odds, for how long, and with what victory in mind? The movement's challenge is to lift up that voice, in Congress, where, with the glorious exception of Rep. Barbara Lee, it has been silent, as well as on the ground.

And finally, as Rep. Barbara Lee's courageous act suggests, this time around an effective peace movement will need to seek its leadership and its troops among minority and oppressed communities here at home. It will need to forge alliances with the international movements for global economic and social justice, and it will need to explore the new organizing strategies these groups have employed.

Confronting an enormously confusing period, our country could emerge with strengthened democratic values and a commitment to global peace, or it could launch an impoverishing, uncontrollable, ill-conceived, and devastating war. In this awesome balance, the voice of the peace movement must not be distorted or squelched or timid.

September 28, 2001

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