Not on Our Watch

by Don Cheadle

  A number of celebrities have used their platform to further the cause of Darfur and other crises marked by crimes against humanity:

  - Angelina Jolie has travelled to refugee camps in Chad for the UN High Commissioner for Refugees. She and John went to Congo to document the human rights abuses being committed in the context of that conflict, particularly violence against women (see their photo exhibit online at www.ushmm.org/museum/exhibit/online/congojournal).

  - George Clooney made a surprise visit with his father to Sudan and Chad in advance of the April 2006 Washington, DC, rally in order to maximise his awareness-raising impact. He appeared on Oprah and did a press conference with Senators Barack Obama and Sam Brownback. Later Clooney addressed the UN Security Council with Elie Wiesel. Both appealed to the UN to do much more to protect the defenceless in Darfur and challenged the world body to not stand idly by while genocide was unfolding.

  - Mia Farrow has also made two trips to Darfur with her son Ronan on behalf of UNICEF, and both have written moving op-eds in a variety of publications. Mia and John have teamed up to speak at venues throughout the East Coast. She also visited eastern Chad with David Rubinsteen in November 2006 and raised the alarm bell about Darfur’s spillover effects in neighbouring countries.

  - Mira Sorvino went to Capitol Hill to raise awareness of the plight of women subjected to sexual violence in Darfur, and she worked with Amnesty International to organise a concert in the summer of 2006 to raise awareness and funds for the region.

  - Ryan Gosling went to eastern Chad and raised funds for the camps, and he has further plans to make a movie about Uganda.

  - Russell Simmons participated in the April 2006 Save Darfur Coalition rally in Washington, DC, and has encouraged hip-hop artists to join the cause.

  - Bradley Whitford is best known for portraying White House aide Josh Lyman on the television drama The West Wing, but when he was given the chance to get behind the camera and write an episode of the series, he used the opportunity to raise the issue of Darfur. Whitford learned about Darfur by reading about the efforts of Eric Reeves and attending a church where the genocide was discussed. He decided to write an episode in which an activist visits the White House and urges the staff to do something about the region.

  - Bradley’s West Wing co-star Melissa Fitzgerald travelled to Uganda and has become an advocate for peace in northern Uganda. She spoke at a convocation sponsored by UGANDA-CAN and the Invisible Children project, which saw 700 students unleashed on Capitol Hill for two days of lobbying in October 2006.

  - David Zabel is the executive producer and head writer of the hospital drama ER. He and his writers learned about Darfur by reading newspaper articles, looking for story ideas on issues related to health care in Africa. Because the show already had a character working for an aid organisation on the continent, they decided to send this character to work in a camp in Darfur. The episode looked at the experience of displaced persons, showing their daily crisis of trying to stay alive and healthy. It showed this struggle and explored how aid groups combat tuberculosis, malnutrition, dehydration, and malaria. They were able to focus the attention of the show’s 13–14 million viewers on the issue, and the episode coincided with the Save Darfur demonstration in Washington.

  But you don’t have to be a celebrity, have a newspaper column, work in television, or start a mass-based organisation to have an impact. Every individual voice counts, as we shall see in the next chapter.

  DON:

  I got the call from my managers. ‘Don, I know we get a ton of these requests, but I think this is one you should really consider. The students from STAND, the ones you and John spoke with earlier this year, are going to be participating in a rally this week at the UCLA campus with the Darfur Action Committee to try and get the University of California regents to consider divesting their interests from Sudan. They only need you to show up at the beginning. They have some media coming and want to maximise …’

  ‘I got it. What time and where do I park?’

  I was interested in helping these kids. John had talked them up a lot—how committed they were and how they had seeded a real movement that was already starting to make some real noise in colleges around the country. John and I had always remarked about how it consistently had been the students in most social movements, not only in this country but also around the globe, that ultimately made a difference. Even though the best outcome we could hope for today would be the regents voting to simply ‘consider’ the question of divestment, with the much larger decision to do it or not occurring later, I was honoured that I had been asked to lend my voice. What was bumming me out about the whole thing was my leg. I had undergone knee surgery earlier that year, and though my rehab was coming along, I couldn’t always swing spending extended periods of time on my feet. But given that they’d only need me for the beginning of the event, for a rousing kick-off speech and some face time for the cameras, I figured I could pull it off, no problem.

  Traffic in LA is a buzz-kill, and sitting in this smog soup on rally day is grinding away at my enthusiasm. I am supposed to show up at 11am, but from where I am now, crawling along on Wilshire Boulevard, it doesn’t seem possible. I call my manager and ask that she let the folks know that I am doing the best I can to get there but have fallen victim to the vicissitudes of an LA commute, everybody scrambling, getting nowhere fast. When I finally arrive, I am more than a half an hour late and my head is throbbing in sympathy with my knee. Damned activism. I am met at the garage by a bright-eyed, young DAC rep, and her enthusiasm momentarily quiets my aches and pains—momentarily, that is, until she explains that we need to walk a short way to get to the hall where the press conference will be held.

  ‘Short way?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes sir-ee!’

  Boy, she’s chipper.

  I quickly do an age and projected health scan of my guide; 18 to 20 years old, svelte, able-bodied ... There’s no way she and I have the same definition of a ‘short way.’ But I didn’t come out here to fold, so off we go.

  When we arrive at our destination—a bum knee–challenging ten blocks away, uphill of course—I am shocked at how few people have assembled.

  ‘Where is everybody? I thought there was going to be a rally.’

  ‘There is. The press conference is first. I did expect there’d be more people here too, though.’

  The licks may be a little different, but the main song is the same; where Darfur is concerned, it is difficult to draw a crowd. There are only about 15 people in the seats in this small hall. I am waved up to the dais and take my seat next to Adam Sterling, student activist and ringleader for this event. He thanks me, I deflect it, make a small speech, the ABC cameras roll, and before you know it the press portion of the programme draws to a close. I feel altogether unsatisfied. I know that there is probably some value to me showing my face here today, and the possibility of news coverage is nothing to sneeze at, especially for a subject as underreported as this. But still ...

  I have stepped outside to do a one-on-one follow-up interview with the local anchor and start my goodbyes, when one of the DAC students asks if I wouldn’t mind coming over with her to Meyerhoff Park, a small area on the campus where their group has set up to marshal participants for the rally. If my knee could talk, it would be cursing at me for even considering her request, but my spirit wins the fight.

  ‘I’ll follow you.’

  ‘Great. It’s only a little ways from here.’

  Four blocks later (don’t kill her, Don) we round the bend, coming upon a table full of fliers and a lawn full of grass, and little else. Again, there are only a handful of people here listening to the impassioned speaker booming over the PA, ‘Divest now! Divest now!’ The curious passersby eating their lunches far outnumber those collected out of real interest for the cause, but it does nothing to diminish the enthusiasm of these speakers, almost hoa
rse now from shouting over the microphone. When I come into view, they all turn to me almost simultaneously, and Jenny Wood, the Undergraduate Students Association Council president, asks if I wouldn’t mind saying a few words. I nod in agreement and she turns back to the mike.

  ‘And now please join me in welcoming a tireless ally in the fight for Darfur and actor in such films as Hotel Rwanda, Boogie Nights, and Ocean’s Eleven and Twelve ...’

  I’m sure she said my name next, but all that’s ringing in my ears is those last two titles, their juxtaposition to what I am doing right now discordant as hell. But more heads do turn and more bodies do begin to collect. It is a perfect—yet to me often strange—example of the power of ‘celebrity’. I probably know less than Jenny about whence I speak, and possess maybe a quarter of her energy, and yet the uninitiated and heretofore uninterested are now beginning to pool to hear what Basher Tarr of Ocean’s Eleven/Twelve/etc has to say. Fine then. It shouldn’t be all sunglasses and autographs anyway. I have been blessed with the rare opportunity to draw focus for however long it lasts, and I am happy to have something to talk about other than Brad Pitt’s favourite food or what Catherine Zeta-Jones is really like in person (tacos and lovely, respectively).

  I jump right into it, telling the students that history is on their side as far as their being the catalysts for change. The youth have always possessed the vision and energy to address the ills of lethargic, outmoded policies and to transform them for good. I implore those gathered to not allow their legacy to be that of those who stood by and watched the genocide happen, a genocide in part funded by the California university system’s investments in Sudanese companies. The rally starts to take on the feel of ... well, a rally, as our numbers slowly swell over the next hour, different speakers stepping up to the podium to add their perspectives and insight. The DAC students pass out signs to those gathered, about 30 strong now, and Jenny lets me know that it is time to march over to James West Alumni Centre for the regents meeting, where they will be taking up the divestment issue.

  ‘I’m sorry, did you say march?’

  ‘Parade, strut, whatever. We’ve got to get more people out here for this, old school, 60s style. March and chant all the way, you know? That’ll draw ’em.’ She’s full of vim and vigour, inspired by our growing numbers. I’m full of apprehension.

  ‘March. Right. How far away is it?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, it’s not that far.’

  It wouldn’t be right to kick her in her enthusi-ass-im, but my knee is begging me to, as its last, dying act. The thing about it is, though, she’s right. As we make our way to the meeting, chanting as we go, students begin to gravitate toward the processional to investigate. Our numbers increase if for no other reason than many who have joined us want to see a confrontation between students and the ‘establishment’. These tough, young college kids are wrapped around an adolescent’s high-school, gooey centre, playing back their old tapes now, following the underdog to the fight behind the gym, hoping the bully will finally get his ass kicked. But even those with strictly voyeuristic interests at first are seemingly being won over by the information the DAC and those previously converted are reporting. No one in the periphery, it turns out, is a fan of genocide, and if an increase in numbers and a strong showing of solidarity among the students could possibly mean results for the Darfurian people, then everybody here now wants to be counted as agents of change. Hallelujah.

  When we arrive at the centre many hours after this all began, in numbers much greater than we could have imagined, though I know I will be limping tomorrow, I’m standing tall now, heartened by how the perseverance of the few can rally the support of the many.

  We pour into the Alumni Centre’s lobby that sits adjacent to the conference room where the regents meeting—already in session—is being held. It’s a nice, large area, and that’s a good thing as our numbers have now dramatically increased to near 100 students, one reporter/cameraman team, and one one-legged actor scrambling to the bench for a much-needed sit. From what I’ve been told, I won’t be sitting long, as the question of divestment is the first issue scheduled on the docket for discussion in the meeting. But as the minutes begin to click off the clock, it becomes clear that there is no real hurry to get to us. No one is dissuaded, however, quite the opposite in fact. If this is a gauntlet thrown down by the ‘establishment’ you know these students are down to pick it up.

  After about an hour or so an official-looking woman sticks her head out of the door and asks that we wait outside; 100 people talking even at just a normal volume can cause a small din. When we ask about when we might gain admittance to the meeting, we are told that there has been a schedule change and that they are currently in a closed session and it is unclear as to when they will get to us. Were we misinformed, mistaken, or are they trying to cool us off? No matter now, the crowd happily complies, moving to the steps just outside the building and drawing an even larger crowd. Nearly an hour later, light beginning to fade on the day, this ‘drive-by’ is now approaching five hours for me, but there’s no way I’m leaving now. Adam and his team dig into their pockets and pool enough money to buy everybody Taco Bell while they wait it out. The students keep one another’s spirits strong, making impromptu speeches and singing songs, doing their best imitations of Berkeley in the 60s, and it’s fantastic to watch. And all the while our numbers have only increased. Finally, the security guard steps outside and invites us in.

  We file into the room, taking up all the seats and every other bit of free space in the room—over 100 students standing silently, arms linked, holding pictures displaying the Janjaweed’s dirty work and the international community’s apathy, imploring the men and women collected there to divest their support from those supporting these horrors. One by one, Adam and his team make their impassioned, intelligent speeches to the board, pulling me in at the end to wrap it up. I try to get a read on the faces there, for some indication as to their leanings. Everyone seems to be on board, and sure enough, when the vote is called for, the proposal passes unanimously. Our celebration is loud and immediate, with everyone feeling the power of the collective. It makes me very hopeful that what has worked on this small scale could be a microcosm for what might possibly be applied in a larger framework, with even bigger results.

  We pour outside congratulating one another and saying goodbyes, promising to offer support once again and ever again if the need arises. Hobbling to my car, I’m almost sad the day has come to an end. Never before or since have I seen such movement in so short a time.

  Sore as I am, my battery has been recharged. What’s next?

  8

  Strategies for Effective Change

  ‘We as Sudanese know that the peace in southern Sudan was the effort of the American government. Regardless of the political agenda, we deeply appreciate that. The killing of civilians there has stopped. The media and advocacy groups in the United States could do the same in Darfur. Do not lose hope.’

  Suad Mansour, a Darfuri woman and peace activist

  You have the power to make a difference. This is not just rah-rah, cheerleading pabulum. The cold truth is that there is little appetite on the part of any government, including the United States, to confront the Sudanese regime or other merchants of death and to take the necessary actions to bring these tragedies to an end. Therefore, the only means by which Western policy can change, and thus the only way genocide and other mass atrocities can be stopped, much like slavery and violence in southern Sudan, is if citizens raise their voices loud enough to get the attention of their government and force that government to change its policy.

  Effective activism needs strong leadership, direction, intelligence, and commitment. A broad strategy for moving forward must focus on both the short-term goal of halting atrocities in Sudan, Congo, and northern Uganda, and the long-term goals of ensuring that our governments have the tools to respond to mass atroc
ities in the future, and creating a constituency that will hold policy makers accountable for failing to act.

  To help you find your voice, we offer six strategies for effective change:

  - Raise Awareness

  - Raise Funds

  - Write a Letter

  - Call for Divestment

  - Join an Organisation

  - Lobby the Government.

  Strategy One

  SOW THE SEEDS—RAISE AWARENESS

  Each year in the US, the nightly newscasts of ABC, CBS, and NBC devote a total of roughly 25,000 minutes to news. Nonetheless, for the entire year of 2004, as genocide was ramping up in Darfur, the three main networks’ nightly newscasts dedicated only 26 minutes to the conflict, according to the Tyndall Report Year in Review.

  During June 2005, a full two years into the Darfur crisis, NBC aired a mere five segments on the genocide, and CBS had none, according to a study by the Be A Witness campaign.[1] It analysed network and cable news coverage of the Darfur crisis and revealed what many Americans had long suspected about modern corporate media—it is sensationalistic and obsessed with the trivial at the expense of serious news developments like genocide. During that same June 2005 period, NBC and CBS each aired well over 300 reports on Tom Cruise’s romantic relationship with actress Katie Holmes and well over 500 stories on the Michael Jackson trial. FOX News had 41 pieces on Sudan, but an astounding 1,753 stories dedicated to the dethroned King of Pop, Mr Jackson. In all, the top television news teams aired 65 times more segments on what amounts to celebrity gossip than on the genocide in Sudan. The Be A Witness campaign encouraged viewers to send letters and petition ABC, NBC, CBS, and FOX News to further cover the unfolding genocide in Darfur. The networks need to be treated much the same as politicians; they need to hear from their constituents (viewers) in order to make something a priority. Again, this does not just apply to the US, but to every nation across the globe.