I Dream of Pakistan

A Creative Writing Piece on the Drone War in Pakistan and the Hope of Nonviolent US Resistance

By Meghan M.M. Trimm

I am in a dream. I see an SUV hit a biker, with a child carrier. It was an Arab-looking man with a baby on the back of his bicycle. I hear wailing -- an infant’s cries. The father’s skull is cracked on the pavement. He is dead. The streets around him are paved in red. All around me I notice my neighbors going to work, mowing their grass, sipping tea on their front lawn, but there is no one scrambling to aid. I have the stunning realization that I am the only person in this world who knows what is happening. I try to yell for help, but there is no sound like someone pressed the mute button.

The woman who was following them is in shock -- the mother. She puts down her bike, shaking, and falls on her knees. I can see the blood of her husband seeping into the threads of her burka around her knees. She hasn’t even cried yet -- her face caught in an agony that cannot yet bear sound. I feel compelled to move, but I am rooted to the ground until the spreading bodily fluids reach my sneakers. Suddenly I am in full motion, dashing to the baby carrier. The child’s arm is crushed between her seat and the pavement by the weight of her father. She is bleeding from her head with cuts around her mouth and eyes. She landed in broken glass. I feel shame for the trash thrown in the streets of my careless city. I want to lift her out of there and give her comfort, but I know I could do more harm than good if she has an injured spine.

The mother is screaming, she is moving toward her lost husband on her hands and knees. She does not feel the glass, or if she does she doesn’t care. I feel I can do nothing. I am on my knees holding the infant’s hand.

The blood covering the streets is seeping up into the neighbors’ yards. It reaches beyond this invisible scene, creeping up and soaking the lawn, drenching the lawn furniture; it reaches my neighbors' hands. I look on in amazement as they go about their lives unnoticing. How can they not see they have blood on their hands!? I feel angry and helpless.

The SUV, with tinted windows, backs up and attempts to drive past. I have found my purpose. Without thinking I step into its path. The engine roars at me like a mad beast, but I know I have to stay. Scrambling my phone from my pocket I call for emergency care.

As I stand there waiting in the path of the beast I feel a tug on my jeans. I look down and see the child. She has grown into a 3 or 4 year old now. She looks up at me with sparkling piercing happy eyes. When I meet her gaze, I am awake.

Her Name is Peace
by Meghan M.M. Trimm

Body Pieces

by Pat Chaffee

“We are still finding body pieces.”

My job was to gather the body pieces after an IED explosion, trying to keep pieces on one body together.”

“My uncles were cut in pieces.”

I heard the first statement when I volunteered at the rest station set up for first responders in St. Peter’s church near Ground Zero. The second statement I heard during an NPR interview with a Marine.

I heard the third statement as I sat on the floor in the office of the Foundation for Fundamental Rights (FFR) in Islamabad, an organization that provides legal aid for victims of U.S. drone attacks in Pakistan. Shahzad Akbar, founder of FFP, had invited -- or more accurately, challenged -- Medea Benjamin, co-founder of the anti-war activist group CODEPINK, to bring a delegation to Pakistan to meet with victims and survivors of drone attacks.

So, on October 4, 2012, thirty-four U.S. citizens and one Canadian sat on the floor listening. Kamir Kahn, a survivor in his fifties, wearing traditional tribal garb, told of the drone attack on his village on December 31, 2009, that killed his 18-year-old son and his brother. He picked up their body pieces for Muslim burial.

Body parts. I invite us to say the words slowly: body parts. A body ripped apart by an airplane crashing into a building, by an IED, by a drone. In Waziristan, we must picture not only the limbs of women and men, but also the severed head of a child.

Noor Behram, a brilliant, committed Pakistani photographer, overwhelmed the delegation with his photographs of children killed in drone attacks. They are not pleasant to look at. Why does Noor take on this horrific mission? Why does he drive seven hours to take the picture of a shrapnel-riddled child before he is buried?

He does it for the same reason that I went to Pakistan—to give the lie to the official report from the U.S. government that drones are smart weapons, that in the past year, not one single civilian was killed in a drone attack. Noor has no images of women killed by drones. This does not mean that drones spare women; Islamic custom forbids photographing women. Noor, however, does his best to work around this law. He photographs the bloody clothing of women. And in one photo of a dead woman with a dead child,, he cut away the image of the mother. We could see the curves of the child holding on to his mother’s body.

A gruesome topic -- body parts. Disturbing to our protected sensibilities. We were so maddened by body parts falling from the towers of the World Trade Building, we determined to blow other people to pieces. We mourn over our own women and men blown apart by IED’s; yet we continue of slice the heads of babies with drone strikes.

“When you go home, tell your government to stop sending drones.” We were given this plea by Karim, Noor, and the hundreds of Pakistanis we encountered.

Pat Chaffee
Racine, Wisconsin


More on Pat Chaffee's Pakistan trip: "Why Do They Hate Us?" on the No Drones Wisconsin website.

For more photos see the Code Pink delegation photo site.

Ending Drone Killing: The Spirit Is Moving

This content has been moved to: "Ending Drone Killing: The Spirit Is Moving" at Scarry Thoughts.

Is God Urging Us to "Risk It"?

This content has been moved to: "Confronting Drone Killing: Is God Urging Us to "Risk It"?" at Scarry Thoughts.

Modern Applications of the Buddha's Teachings on Love and on the Suffering Attributable to Misperception

Previous installment:"The Suffering Caused By Misperception"

by Jack Lawlor

Love is a universal message in world religions. Buddhism, however, may be unique among religions in its emphasis on the need to prevent the injury and tragedy caused by human misperception.

Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh urges us to cultivate the following qualities through the engaged, consistent practice of meditation based on mindful breathing in order to live in love, free of misperception in the manner suggested by the Buddha:

1. The cultivation of stopping, or "Shamatha" in the Pali language: i.e., to recognize and let go of compulsions and prejudices which cause misperception;
   
   
2. The cultivation of concentration, or "Samadhi". Everything in our culture encourages distraction and reduces our ability to concentrate, thwarting our ability to understand what is actually going on;
   
   
3. Dwelling in "Appamada", the absence of madness. Once we cultivate stopping and concentration, we dwell in awareness, free of misperception that causes us to say and do things we do not understand;
   
   
4. The cultivation insight, or Vipassana. Once we dwell in concentration, our perception clears, and we can see and understand underlying causes and conditions not only effecting us, but others. We are capable of seeing and understanding things from the vantage point of other beings;
   
   
5. The cultivation of compassion, or Karuna. Once free of our own obsessions and misperceptions, we better see and understand what is going on, how we have an impact on others, and how they influence us, opening the way to compassion; and
6. The cultivation of understanding, Prajna. The practice of compassion deepens our understanding of the radical impermanance and interdependence of all beings, giving rise to wisdom.

There's another set of exercises which Thich Nhat Hahn urges his students to practice when encountering uncertainty and confusion. They might be practiced in U.S. Air Force and CIA drone command posts, safely tucked away thousands of miles from violent operations. Rather than live compulsively, driven by habit energies, Thay suggests that we first take refuge in mindfulness of breathing, and then ask ourselves:

-- Am I sure of what I am doing? If we are not sure, the moral thing to do may be to refrain from action until deep looking and inquiry suggest what we should do or not do;

-- What am I doing? Am I trying my best to do technical read-outs nin my drone's computer and surveillance camera, or am I killing someone who may not even be the person my government has labelled a "terrorist' on the basis of information unknown to me. What am I REALLY doing?

-- Am I giving into habit energy? What tendencies and beliefs have I inherited from my nation, my family, my society? Do I need to question and challenge their resort to violence under these circumstances? Isn't the use of violence at odds with other things I have been taught by the nation, the family, the society I love?

-- Are my acts making it possible for all beings to live, to be their best? In the Mahayana Buddhist tradition, it is believed that all beings have bodhicitta, the heart and mind of love that is capable of manifesting both compassion and wisdom simultaneously, not only for one's own benefit, but for the benefit of all beings. Will my actions injure the bodhicitta in others? If they do, won't my acts cause ever escalating levels of suffering?

Next installment: "The Nearsighted Drone"

Drones vs. Up-Close-and-Personal Reality

This content has been moved to: "Drones vs. Up-Close-and-Personal Reality" at Scarry Thoughts.

The Buddha and a Culture of Violence

Previous installment: "The Buddha Meets the Drone"

by Jack Lawlor

Although a life-long idealist, the Buddha was no stranger to cultures of violence. As a youth, his father -- a local monarch -- insisted that he train to be a warrior. But the Buddha kept his own counsel.

Years later, after the Buddha left his father's palace to become a spiritual seeker, he encountered the armies of two adjacent kingdoms massing on the banks of the Rohini River to clash over disputed water rights on the occasionally parched plains of northern India. Did the Budddha linger to side with the kingdom that was historically allied with his homeland? Did he walk away?

No, the Buddha didn't walk away from this highly charged situation. He did something rather interesting. He walked up and down the assembled ranks of both armies, and talked to the soldiers. He then essentially mediated the situation. He had asked questions of both sides about the significance of the water rights in question and the value of the lives of the young men in each army and the amount of treasure it took to assemble troops, warhorses and equipment in place on the field of battle. He then reported to each side the attitudes of the other side. It proved that neither side thought it was worth viewing the water rights as an "all or nothing" issue, and shared water rights were successfully negotiated.

The Buddha did not always succeed in such efforts, but in many instances -- including disputes within his spiritual community -- he was able successfully to sow seeds of empathy, of being able to know and see deeply into other people, not limited only to what is wrong within them but what his right, what is healthy. He did not gain these insights through the use of drone aircraft thousands of feet above the earth, but by meeting with people and spending time with them, exploring their deepest, most genuine desires and aspirations. And this often led to defusing and disarming difficult situations. Are we even capable of such empathy today, in the wake of Bush-era political leaders who made fun of empathetic people, implying they are are weak?

Were the assembled armies along the Rohini River made stronger by avoiding violent conflict? Or would they have been stronger after battling each other, contributing their blood to the Rohini? Is our nation stronger or weaker in the wake of the war in Iraq?

What compass was the Buddha following? How would his source of guidance approach the subject of drone warfare?


Next installment: "The Buddha On Love"

Call to Confession

by Susan Soric

The following Call to Confession comes from a service that  Rev. Loren McGrail and I did  at our home church of Wellington Avenue United Church of Christ.  This Confession became the inspiration for the name of our blog Awake to Drones.  I invite you to be in touch with how the use of  robotic warfare is affecting you. Trust your gut instincts.

Hear My Cry

A few months back, when our daughter was a little over a year old, we were watching an extremely innocuous, usually very comforting and quaint little British children’s show called Postman Pat. It was about an ordinary and uncomplicated man named Pat who loved his job in the village, loved his wife and son, and was truly very happy. But one episode contained an unusual character. Postman Pat was overwhelmed with all the packages he was delivering and wanted to find a way to get some help, so he created a robot, which he was demonstrating for Mrs. Goggins in the post office one day. When our little girl saw the boxy, bug-eyed, gangly can of metal lurching and flailing, smashing windows and knocking things over; she started to panic. Aaaah aaah! AAAAH! She cried, and of course I stopped the show very quickly.

I have pondered that moment, taking to heart the terror in her voice, her innocence, her lack of understanding of the world and of human creations; and
yet for all that innocence there was something primal, maybe even instinctual, something real and deeply human in the fear she expressed at that lifeless, yet moving, machine. My theological mind turned immediately to the lack of humanity in the robot: the absence of something familiar, reassuring, comforting. Inhumanity, non-humanity. Disembodiment. Perhaps she was expressing the lack of connection one feels to something that is not of you.....not your kin.....But why did I not feel 
that way about the robot? Yes, I’m old and jaded, but maybe I also wasn’t tuning
in to a place within myself that our daughter could touch immediately. What was happening in that place deep in side me that numbed me to the horror of a lifeless imitation of humanity?

And that brings me to our focus for today. Robots of death. Death by
 drone. Killing by remote control. Since taking office, President Obama has been undertaking a personally-directed, CIA-administered, high-tech assassination campaign in Western Asia (particularly in Yemen and Pakistan), using drone technology to target what he describes as terrorists. Some reports estimate that Obama has personally ordered hundreds of assassinations by drone since he took office, striking out at supposed Al Qaida targets while also killing innocent children and adults. Technology is not always bad. It can be life-saving, but in the hands of the powerful, it can also be an abomination.

Ohio Representative Dennis Kucinich warns us that the executive power
of the presidency is now unleashed, and our system of justice is being radically altered. “I feel that we have had a kind of psychic dismemberment from our foundational causes of nation,” says Kucinich. “How did the nation, that was founded under such egalitarian principles, find itself running a killing bureaucracy? How did that happen? How did we make that journey? This is clearly a story of a nation that is losing its way in the world to a mixture of fear and hubris,” Kucinich said.

I believe that fear is a natural instinct, and sometimes we do need to protect ourselves from trauma. But our faith also reminds us that we also must do the opposite. We must sensitize ourselves to the fear and trauma and suffering around us so that we can be of help; so that we can promote an end to violence and the establishment of peace.

Some of our United Churches of Christ once used the crucifix in worship. This is one such crucifix that a suburban UCC church was giving away at a recent wider church meeting. Gone are the wretched bodies of Jesus once mounted on
 our crosses, and for good reason: Jesus is no longer dead, but alive. Resurrected.
 But our faith also calls us to remind ourselves that death is real; murder is real. Assassination is real. Real flesh-and-blood bodies die. People made in the image of God die every day at the hands of other human beings. This crucifix reminds us to be fully human. It reminds us that when we kill others just because they are vigilantes, because they are different, because they are a threat, that we are destroying a part of the very God we profess to love and part of ourselves as well.

“I think,” says Kucinich, “the people of the United States would be horrified if they actually understood how many innocent people are being swept up in the maw of these wars. So people are just permitted to sleep. And it’s going to be 
very disturbing for the American people when they awake from the slumber to look out upon a world where there’s carnage everywhere that’s created by our nation without any legal process, without any constitutional basis and without any articulated justification.”

I have been asleep. Where have you been? Is there any justification for this kind of killing: either killing by cross or by drone? When will we awaken and cry out about the horror of it all? And once we reach that place of gut-felt anguish, what will we do about it?

Susan Soric

image from Patrician Sotarello and AFSC