by Mike Farrell
In my own career, I have seen the impact of these organizations on the deliberations of the U.S. government, on the passage of laws, and on the behavior of foreign governments. Throughout Africa, the International Foundation for Electoral Systems, the National Democratic Institute, and the International Republican Institute have spearheaded efforts to ensure transparency and integrity in the conduct of elections that have led to the opening of governments and the enhancement of democracy across the continent. The efforts of organizations such as Journalists Without Borders over a generation have succeeded in protecting journalists across the continent as well.
On the humanitarian front, I witnessed the efforts of NGOs to ensure that American assistance to Africa was maintained, and even enhanced, despite domestic budgetary pressures. It was American activists who were successful in persuading President Bush to tackle HIV/AIDS in Africa as a health issue, even as conservatives continued to see it as a “gay plague.”
In my own personal life, political activist organizations have played key roles. When my wife’s identity as a covert CIA officer was betrayed by her own government, it was an activist law group, Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW), that agreed to take our case, and to help us find some justice and hold the Bush administration to account for its despicable actions. That civil suit is winding its way through the appeals process; it is precedent setting. The question before our justice system is not whether some harm was done to the Wilson family, but rather, is it acceptable for government officials to engage in private political attacks from their positions of public trust? If they succeed in doing it to us with impunity, what is to prevent them from doing it to other citizens? Where is our privacy protection? We could not have pursued this suit on behalf of all American citizens, trying to safeguard our constitutional rights to privacy and of free speech, were it not for CREW.
I have also been personally involved in the efforts of the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, an organization dedicated to ensuring that all members of the United States Armed Forces receive the guarantee of religious freedom to which they and all Americans are entitled by virtue of the First Amendment. The organization currently represents hundreds of citizens who have suffered religious discrimination while in uniform, over ninety percent of whom are Christian.
Alexis de Toqueville noted a century and a half ago that the United States was a collection of special interests. We remain so. Until fairly recently, those interests that impacted on the policy making of governments were narrow in scope and often antithetical to broader interests. That has changed with the growth of activist groups who now successfully compete in the marketplace of ideas, guaranteeing that governments pay heed to voices other than those who formerly dominated the policy making process. It is a welcome change.
After more talk and some dealing with the kids, whom we leave happy in the capable hands of Heather—a former New York lawyer who gave it all up to come to Santa Fe to revive herself and is now the Wilson’s nanny, assistant and woman-of-all-seasons—we head for Collected Works.
The event—standing room only—could hardly have been better. Joe’s introduction is flattering beyond words and the interaction with the crowd is fun. Again, the discussion is wide-ranging—the war, the Bush administration, politics in general, the responsibility of citizenship, M*A*S*H, of course, the death penalty, criminal justice. One questioner raises a point I’ve heard something about: the New Mexico legislature was ready to abolish the death penalty and, as the story goes, Governor Richardson asked an ally to see that it didn’t happen because he didn’t want it brought to him for signature. What, the questioner asks, can we do? “Let him have it,” I suggest. “He should hear from every one of you who cares about this issue. This is just plain political cowardice. We know he wanted to be president and he may still be angling to be on the ticket as vice president, and I understand that ambitious politicians fear being labeled as ‘soft on crime,’ but we need leaders who are willing to lead. Every thinking person knows the death penalty is rife with problems that are harming our society and those who want to take leadership positions have to have the guts to face up to the big issues and be leaders.”
Later, when signing copies of my book, the man who asked the question introduced himself. He’s Father John Dear, a highly respected Catholic priest who has written a number of books, mostly on peace and justice issues. I was delighted to meet him and thrilled that he cared enough to come tonight. I’ve worked with his brother, Steve Dear, who heads People of Faith Against the Death Penalty in North Carolina and have heard about John for years.
Afterward, we gathered at Bobby and Eugenie’s for a wonderful dinner; the conversation, of course, centered on Joe and Valerie’s experiences and their sense of things today. Joe had just returned from Saudi Arabia, where he, along with former government officials from a couple of NATO nations, met with very high-level Saudis. He said they were not impressed with their relationship with the current U.S. administration, which does a lot of “telling” and very little listening. The message Dick Cheney delivered back to Washington after his recent visit, they said, was not at all what they had conveyed to him. In fact, it was so wrong that they had to resort to sending an emissary to correct him and make sure the proper message got through. However, even once delivered, whether it actually “got through” is in question.
Everyone, Joe says, is concerned that all the Bush administration’s choices and actions are only further inflaming the Middle East, further empowering Iran, and making things worse for those trying to find a way toward peace. Everyone believes that the U.S. should be engaging Iran in talks—treating them with the respect due any sovereign nation— rather than continuing to ratchet up tensions between our country and theirs.
A fascinating discussion. I hated to have it end, but Valerie had to catch a plane the next day and, oh yeah, I have to get up early to drive to Taos for a radio interview …
DAY SIX
Thursday, May 15, 2008
CITY OF ORIGIN: SANTA FE, NM
CITY OF DESTINATION: TAOS, NM
MILES TRAVELED: 70
VENUE: HARWOOD MUSEUM OF ART
EVENT COSPONSORS
Society of the Muse of the Southwest, UNM -Taos Library
Bobby, who evidently rises early every day, was my alarm clock this morning. He knocked at a few minutes before 7 a.m. and I was ready and out the door before 8, complete with a goody bag from Eugenie, who insisted that I eat this morning.
It’s raining, so I wanted to have enough time to get to the radio station for the 9:30 a.m. interview on KTAO, known as “K-TAOS, the world’s only solar-powered radio station.”
Driving north through the rain I reflect a bit on one of the things Joe Wilson told us about yesterday. He’s on the board of Mikey Weinstein’s Military Religious Freedom Foundation, and had recently visited the Air Force Academy with him. Weinstein, Academy graduate, Air Force lawyer and former counsel in the Reagan White House, had been offended by anti-Semitic slurs against his Air Force–cadet son and founded the MRFF to counter the increasing fundamentalist Christian proselytizing he found when taking a look at the situation in the Academy.
In that pursuit, he told BuzzFlash.com, “What I found at the Air Force Academy was nothing short of something that could destroy the republic. An essentially evangelical, fundamentalist, Christian perspective was being imposed on those that were not evangelical fundamentalist Christians, in complete and total disregard of the First Amendment and the Bill of Rights, where the separation of church and state clearly resides.”
As part of a growing campaign on the part of the MRFF to shine a light on this problem, he and Joe went to the Academy to speak to the cadets and wanted to show, as part of their presentation, the trailer of a new documentary, Constantine’s Sword, that puts in context and exposes the degree of Christian evangelical pressure now being placed, by their superior officers, on Air Force cadets. The officer in charge of the institution, howe
ver, objected to their showing the footage. Joe and Weinstein argued that the trailer of their film, only twelve minutes long, could hardly do any damage, especially since Mel Gibson’s film The Passionof the Christ, filled with what are seen by some as stereotypical and biased depictions of Jews and their relationship to the crucifixion of Jesus, had been widely shown there, as well as a video made by a group called Christian Embassy that featured Air Force Major General Jack Catton Jr., Army Brigadier General Vince Brooks (former public affairs director of the Army), and Undersecretary of the Army Peter Geren openly promoting their religious views. Nonetheless, Joe said, although they were allowed to speak, they could not show their trailer due to what was clearly pressure from above.
This kind of proselytizing, Joe said, is going on not only at the Air Force Academy but is deeply rooted in all the military academies and presents a growing problem that manifests itself as the politicization of the military. The religious view promoted is not only anti-Semitic, it is anti-Catholic, anti–mainstream Protestant and, in essence, wants to root out any belief that is not the kind of dominionist, fundamentalist, evangelical Christian view promoted by Pat Robertson and the late Jerry Falwell.
Scary stuff. A good man, Joe Wilson, doing good work on many fronts.
The rain lightens up a bit as I move further north. Mule is handling the water well and we’re getting along just fine.
The land here is impressive; whether sculpted by ancient glaciers or wind and water—possibly all three—the earth takes on arresting shapes: mounds, mesas with steep, sharp sides rest next to deep arroyos, and large, oddly shaped mountains with names like Camel Rock and Elephant Rock. The earth forms, plus some names reflecting early Native American and later Spanish settlement give the land a somewhat magical feeling, earning it the title Land of Enchantment.
About halfway to Taos, Mule and I enter a deep, beautiful canyon that’s been cut into the New Mexican highland by the Rio Grande. After making our way through the canyon for some miles, we climb out to the top of the highland as the canyon falls away off to the left, wending its way north and west.
Taos is a lovely little place, kind of a miniature Santa Fe. The traditional adobe structures are everywhere here, with their flat roofs, thick walls and rounded, molded corners. I remember, when first entering Bobby and Eugenie’s home, feeling that the thickness of the walls and graceful, round softness of every corner gave it a feeling of voluptuousness. They’ve made theirs a work of art, but the sense of strength given off by all of these old adobes says a lot about their place in history.
Evidently, Kit Carson made his home here in Taos.
Not sure where I’ll find the radio station, I end up going all the way through town and out the other end without seeing the turnoff described in my directions, so I call to find out if I’ve gone too far. “Nope,” I’m told, “you’re doing fine. Keep going.” It turns out the station is well out beyond the northern edge of the city.
Nancy Stapp, the host of Breakfastwith Nancy, reminds me that she interviewed me some time back when she was with the Air America radio network out of Eugene, Oregon. They’ve all been planning to meet Shelley too, and even played “Johnny Angel” as part of my introduction, so once again I have to apologize and explain why my wife wasn’t able to join me on the book tour. (When playing Mary Stone on The Donna Reed Show, Shelley’s recording of the song stayed at the top of the charts for weeks in 1962, becoming the theme song for a generation of young lovers that, men and women remind me constantly, stirs them to this day. The women all wanted to be Shelley, the men all fell in love with her.)
The interview is relaxed and fun. It’s great to talk to people who have actually read my book and can discuss aspects of it rather than simply asking me what it’s about. Nancy is very kind, paying a lovely compliment by saying that when reading the book she felt as though I was talking directly to her.
SOMOS (SOCIETY OF THE MUSE OF THE SOUTHWEST)
Somos, founded in 1983, supports and nurtures the literary arts, in both written and oral traditions, honoring cultural diversity in the Southwest.
Somos was formed as an organization to provide an arena for writers of all mediums to read and perform their work. Early on, Somos brought awardwinning author Sam Oeur to Taos. Oeur’s work commemorates and memorializes the innocent dead of collective fascism. Many other courageous authors have passed through Taos in the intervening years.
The organization’s advisory board includes Marjorie Agosin; Jimmy Santiago Baca, an acclaimed Native Hispanic poet; James Nave, an alum of Poetry Alive; noted Latino author and historian Rudolpho Anaya; and John Nichols, author of TheMilagro Beanfield War.
Somos continues to bring writers together to share their work with the public through summer and winter readings, workshops, and seminars. The participating authors are published in Chokecherries, a yearly publication of the poets and writers, photographers and painters who make up the collective spirit of Somos. The organization shares the creative spirit with the youth of Taos through a Youth Mentorship Program, in which experienced writers are paired with students who are then published in Cross Polination, another annual publication. In addition, Somos brings the Storytelling Festival to Taos every fall with the best national storytellers presenting their work before large crowds. Tania Cassell, the noted Scottish writer, puts Somos on the air with a weekly radio program.
We at Somos believe that expression brings about awareness and gives voice to the value that truth is of supreme importance.
Once the show is over I have some time to kill before the event, so I head for the library where I can catch up on e-mail and current events. I’m stunned to read that this miserable, wretched excuse for a national leader, the pathetic, smirking narcissist who occupies our White House, has taken the opportunity to turn an address to the Israeli Knesset into a political attack on Barack Obama’s stated willingness to speak to those who oppose us and our allies. Forget that Reagan talked to Gorbachev, that Nixon met with Mao, that JFK dealt with Krushchev, let’s cheapen an ostensibly respectful visit to Israel on its sixtieth anniversary by, of all tasteful things, raising the specter of the Nazis and implying that Obama is somehow talking about dancing with terrorists.
What an utterly cheap, completely chickenshit stunt. Joe Biden was absolutely right to drop the usual careful Washingtonese protocol and tell it like it is: “Bullshit!”
Cooling off with a bite to eat, I then make my way to the event at the Harwood Museum of Art. But first I have to find the Harwood Museum of Art, which is not as easy as one would think, especially given the size of this town. Finally, after circling and searching, I have the presence of mind to stop and ask someone, and voilà! Down a narrow—and frighteningly deserted—one-way street, I finally zero in on the Harwood. Pulling into the small parking lot in front, my growing sense of foreboding is heightened by the fact that there’s only one other car visible. A young man, Bobby Arellano, actually another Akashic Books author who teaches at the University of New Mexico and is the person who has organized this event, comes out to greet me. He’s very pleasant and doesn’t appear to be as stricken as I would expect him to be if no one had actually showed up, so I take heart and walk into the building with him. There are two people leaving, another not-good sign, but the woman, who is kind and apologizes for not being able to stay, holds out a copy of the book and asks if I’d mind signing it anyway. Why not? It might be the only one.
Inside, three or four people are standing at a table, registering for something. Bobby introduces me and then we walk down a hall and up a flight of stairs—an extremely quiet flight of stairs. I’m developing the sinking feeling that, despite his very pleasant manner, Bobby is trying to figure out how to break it to me that everyone seems to have had something else to do tonight … then we round a corner and enter a room where about fifty people are sitting, apparently waiting for little old me.
God, what a relief.
As it happens, we’re a bit early and others are a
ctually coming in behind us, so Bobby lets me roam for a while and appreciate the work displayed while the audience gathers. Taos is quite the art community and the Harwood is apparently a very successful and highly regarded museum. What I have time to see are some very old—and evidently very precious—religious paintings on wood, some of them quite primitive in appearance, and, in the room where the crowd is gathering, an impressive display of four contemporary Impressionists. (At least I think they’re Impressionists. My knowledge of art is, shall we say, limited.)
As I’m looking around, a number of people come up and thank me for visiting Taos. It appears that there is a great sense of community pride here, and perhaps a bit of a sense that the city is not as fully appreciated as it might be. I’m not sure about that part, but whatever the case, the gratitude on their part for my coming is so clearly genuine that it is quite touching.
One man stands looking at me and asks, “Do you remember me?” I truly hate that question—unless, of course, I do remember—because it inevitably provides for an embarrassing moment for one or both of us. “From where should I remember you?” I ask. “Anicam,” he says. Anicam was an animation camera service my brother worked at many years ago, and this man, it turns out, is the son of the founder of the company. “Of course,” I say, happy to have the point of reference. “I’ll tell Jim I saw you.”
By the time Bobby signals me in to be introduced, there must be a couple hundred people in the room, which almost makes me laugh out loud from further relief. And the warmth, attention and sense of appreciation that flows out at me from the moment of his introduction is staggering. The evening could not have been better, nor could I have been made to feel more at home.