(from a defendant's perspective)
I've spent a large part of the past week in court. I was one of seventy-nine defendants at a group jury trial. We were all arrested this past April at a protest in Hopkins, Minnesota. We were protesting the production of landmines at the company headquarters of Alliant Technologies, a spin off of the Honeywell corporation. (the process of getting arrested is another story which I'd be glad to furnish you with a copy of) All seventy-nine of us plead "not guilty" to the misdemeanor charge of trespassing. To simplify the process, only nine of us testified. A deal was arranged with the prosecutor that allowed those nine to speak for all of us. Whatever verdict and sentence they received would apply to the whole group.
Although I was not an active participant in the trial, I sat in the courtroom to watch most all of the proceedings. Watching my fellow defendants, the attorneys, the judge, and the jurors was both extremely educational and moving. I feel a strong need to tell others what I experienced. This is not a fully accurate account, but mostly my impressions and memories. The quotes probably aren't all exactly correct.
I'm still trying to understand what this all means to me, and I'm guessing that telling you about it will aid that process.
Monday morning began with the juror selection process. The judge began by asking each of the prospective jurors to tell about themselves - their family, their hobbies, etc.:
"I live alone in an apartment with a cat"
Within minutes, it was easy for me to see these fifteen people as good hearted, unique individuals. It reminded me of a start to one of the nonviolence/community building workshops I help facilitate. I was startled by how much more personal and humane this court room was than my preconceptions of court were. I also couldn't help wondering how would I sum up my life for a courtroom audience if I were a juror.
In order to decide which of the prospective jurors would be most impartial in this trial, the attorneys and three of the defendants then took turns asking questions of each prospective juror:
"What is the most important value you have?"
"Is there anything you've felt strong enough about to take a stand on, either through a demonstration, petition, or otherwise?"
"Who do you admire?"
The process of jury selection seemed to be a form of moral and spiritual discernment. I was feeling a bit envious of the jurors for having this opportunity, but I also felt nervous for them. Many of them seemed forced to expose more of their lives than they were comfortable with:
"Have you ever talked with your brother about his experiences in Vietnam?"
"No, we don't talk about that kind of stuff."
Before the case began, the attorneys and the judge discussed the ground rules for the case. On most levels, this case was pretty clear cut.
None of the defendants denied that we entered onto the property of Alliant Tech. Our actions were not in debate. On the surface, we clearly appeared to be guilty of trespassing. But there is a stipulation in the Minnesota trespassing law called "claim of right." If a person has a claim of right, it is legal for them to enter another person's property. As an example, a claim of right would exist if an individual were acting upon a higher law than trespassing. Our defense was that international law prohibited the production and use of landmines, and thus an attempt to call attention to and impede this crime justified the trespassing. After some debate with the prosecutor, the judge decided that the use of international law could be used in our argument in this case (a very unusual and marvelous thing).
The "claim of right" clause in the trespassing law says that our actions need to be "in good faith," "reasonably based," and "without criminal intent." Our interpretation of the law we think we are acting on doesn't even need to be correct, but our interpretation of the law and intent need to be reasonably based. So the whole trial consisted of examining what the defendants believed they were acting upon and if that was reasonable.
What we believed was on trial. Were our actions in April consistent with this belief and were they an appropriate extension of that belief? Both the prosecution and defense said the case rested on what the mind set of the defendants was as they went on to Alliant's property.
The first person to testify was one of the few of my fellow defendants that I had spoken with prior to this week. Her name is Magaritte, a nun who had called me several times before the trial to keep me informed of the planning and preparation. In that small way, she was my main connection to the rest of the group. Margaritte is about 70 years old and has been arrested dozens of times before. She spoke of how this arrest was another extension of her faith:
"Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God. The main issue at this trial isn't whether you find us guilty or not guilty. What is essential is that we stand together and confront the evils of violence. Acting in that spirit, we can't lose. By thinking through the effects of landmines and what we can do about it, we have all begun to confront the violence."
Margaritte spoke of how she was striving to follow the model of Jesus, who at his trial, said "I have come into this world to witness." Margaritte also talked about Alex, a landmine victim she had met in St.Paul. The landmine killed his brother and left him blind and without his legs.
"Alex seemed not to denounce us, but to call us to conversion."
The prosecutor, Wynn, started his cross-examination by dissecting the logical foundations of Margaritte's beliefs. He questioned her understanding of international law and how it applied to her choice to join the protest. The eloquence and focus of Margaritte's explanations began to fade. Wynn handed her a fifty page document from a U.N. convention and asked her to locate a section she refereed to earlier. Wynn's voice was soft spoken, kind, and incisive. Margaritte nervously flipped through the document for several minutes, unable to locate the wording she remembered.
After objections from the defense lawyer, Margaritte was allowed to leave the witness stand and find the passages she was referring to over lunch.
Wynn was hoping to show, with Margaritte and the rest of us, that our understanding that international law prohibited landmines was not only inaccurate, but an unreasonable inference that wasn't clearly thought out.
As Margaritte left the stand, he appeared to be succeeding.
The next person to testify, Mike Miles, was an experienced activist with a very impressive knowledge of international law. My spirits raised as I saw him approach the stand. I thought he would have more of the knowledge and intellect necessary to match Wynn's challenges. Mike's easy citings of numerous treaties was very impressive and did hold off Wynn for a while.
But again, I think Wynn showed the jury that international law does not currently prohibit the production of landmines. If international law already banned landmines, then why would the International Campaign to Ban Landmines (which our local group is a part of) be necessary? Beyond that, Wynn convincingly showed that even if landmines were illegal by international law, there was no national or international law which gave us permission to trespass on private property in response.
Mike Miles did give an impressive history of nonviolent activism, both his own experience and in this country. He cited several examples of how small groups demonstrating on the property of a private military contractor (on behalf of international law) were effective in sparking legislative change.
Mike himself had been part of an action at a military contractor in Wisconsin which was televised live on national ABC news. A week after the demonstration, Congress voted to cease funding that ten billion dollar project.
As more of the nine defendants went on trial, different compelling reasons for each individual's actions were expressed. Wynn's questions became more routine, predictable, and less incisive. The testimonies went on for two and a half days, but never became boring to me. Hearing people articulate what motivated their actions was moving for me in every case.
"I want my kids to see that when you see something wrong, you act on it."
One of the last defendants to speak, Steve Clemens, was the most important for me. He was able to integrate a rational appeal based on law with and a compassionate, intuitive motivation. As an activist and student, Steve had studied international law off and on for the past twenty years. He cited many prohibitions in international law against the use of indiscriminate weapons, those whose use can't distinguish between civilians and combatants. Landmines, Steve explained, are inherently indiscriminate.
They can never tell the difference between the leg of a child and that of a soldier. Steve also explained his understanding of the nature of international law - that general principles (such as the prohibition of indiscriminate weapons) move slowly into more specific, explicit treaties (such as the ban of the production and use of landmines). Before that explicit treaty, international law still recognizes the larger guiding principle.
Steve then spoke at length about the Nuremberg Trials of Nazi war criminals and their implications for international law:
"We're responsible as individuals for treating each other with certain basic rights. The U.N. in its charter adopted the Nuremberg Principles, which clearly state that we each have a responsibly to prevent crimes against humanity. Just following orders does not justify contributing to or passively witnessing these crimes."
Steve described how we, as concerned international citizens, had a legal responsibility to be at Alliant Tech. It just so happens that the state of Minnesota recognizes this responsibility in its trespassing law with the claim of right exemption. But whether or not the state law explicitly recognizes that right and responsibility, Steve said, we are impelled by a higher international and moral law to prevent crimes against humanity. The production and distribution of indiscriminate weapons that kill someone in the world every 22 minutes is a crime against humanity.
As the testimonies concluded on Wednesday morning, I was feeling increasingly clear that we did have a legal and moral right to block the doors at Alliant Tech in April.
Before the closing statements, the judge conferred with the lawyers about the instructions he was going to read to the jury before sending them off to begin their deliberations. In this discussion, the judge said that he would not allow the jury to arrive at just one verdict for the entire group. Rather, they would need to come to a separate verdict for each of the nine people who testified. In keeping with the earlier agreement that we be tried as a group, the prosecutor said that if any of the nine were found not guilty, than he would dismiss the charges for all seventy-nine of us. If all nine of the people who testified were found guilty, than we would all be found guilty.
Some of the defendants voiced disagreement with this plan. The idea of being tried as one group in solidarity with each other was important to many of us. In addition to that, many defendants didn't want the case to be dismissed. In their minds, that would leave things unresolved and ambiguous. The wanted either a clear guilty or not guilty verdict.
In the hope of moving along quickly, both of the lawyers and the judge asked the defendants to worry about a mixed verdict and the case being dismissed only if the situation arose.
The closing arguments began with the prosecution. Wynn began by emphasizing that this is not a case about land mines:
"I think we can all agree that landmines are terrible things. But this is a case about drawing lines the line between motive and intent
reasonable and unreasonable Is their belief in international law reasonable?"
Wynn asserted that all of the defendants who testified were rationalizing their actions and making words from international treaties appear to fit their other motivations.
"I can't blame them. Twisting words to fit my argument is my job. But we must look for what is reasonable."
After saying that he believed all of the defendants were honest, Wynn went through each of the defendants statements and attempted to undermine the credibility and the reasonableness of their action. Is it reasonable to rely on an understanding of international law received in a church sermon (instead of from the actual treaty)? Is reading the magazine, National Catholic Reporter, a reasonable ground for action?
Wynn insinuated that if we allow these protesters to cross this line of personal property and rights, that it would be impossible to draw firm lines in other areas. Would it be all right if they entered the Alliant offices? If they destroyed property? Some of the people who testified had indicated they could envision situations where each of these would be acceptable and within their rights.
Wynn closed by looking at the jury and quietly saying, "the state is asking you to draw a line."
One of defendants, Ruth McDonald, prepared her own closing statement, that she delivered before our lawyer gave his. She started by lighting a candle (after asking permission from the judge):
"It is better to bring light to the world than to curse the darkness. We usually make decisions in the courtroom from the neck up. I'm asking you to use your heart and the rest of your body, also We obeyed the spirit of the law and didn't act with criminal intent. "
A few minutes into her statement, Ruth begin speaking of how Bishop Desmond Tutu had heard about our case and sent his blessings. Ruth was interrupted by the judge, who warned her not to bring new evidence into the case, but just to restate and reframe the evidence already presented. She appeared derailed, but collected herself to close by singing a song. She sang a song written by another defendant about banning landmines. Her voice was fully confident and shaky at the same time. After she completed her song and enjoyed the silence for a moment, she stepped off the stand as she said "we rest our case."
Our main defense lawyer, Peter Thomson, then went into his closing statement.
"I was looking for a profound theme to tie my closing statements together, but what kept coming to me was the obvious bumper sticker that we've all seen before, "Think Global, Act Local." That is what the defendants did in a reasonable, well thought out manner. They thought 'what of this global problem is rooted in our community and how can we bring light to it in a responsible and nonviolent manner?'"
Peter refereed to the millions of dollars of profit that Alliant Tech made in its production of landmines from 1985 to 1995. Based on the number of casualties from landmines in that same period, Peter calculated that Alliant made approximately $2,000 for each landmine victim.
"The wrong people are on trial here."
Peter proceeded to list the top ten reasons why the defendants actions were reasonable and in good faith, and thus, why they had a claim of right (based on international law) to enter Alliant's property. After citing various testimonies and treaties, Peter's number one reason was that the defendants are "reasonable, mature, thoughtful people knowledgeable about the law."
"... and, what makes it easy for you [the jury] to decide is that the burden of proof is on the prosecution. There has been no proof that any of these people have been dishonest or unreasonable in any way. This requires acquittal. I hope we have stimulated you to think globally."
Although I didn't entirely buy all of Peter's closing arguments, I had a lump in my throat the whole time he was talking. He was able to tie together the power of the testimonies forcefully and confidently. I felt extremely grateful to have witnessed the trial, to be a part of this group of defendants, and to be represented by Peter.
I didn't (and don't) know what the appropriate or "right" verdict is.
Honestly, international law wasn't foremost in my mind when I was at the protest. My understanding of my own conscience was the motivating factor for me. At the same time, I have no regrets about my participation in the protest and the trial.
I learned such an immense amount about the court process, international law, the history of nonviolent resistance, and the activist community in the Twin Cities. Thanks to the sharpness of the prosecution, I was reminded just how valuable it is to critically think through the implications of an action before hand. I also saw many examples of how a rational and emotional approach to activism can be integrated and complementary.
The trial was also one of the times I've most acutely experienced active nonviolence. The compassion in everyone there was presistently and gently appealed to. Transformation seemed possible (and actual) for all of the parties involved - defendants, jurors, judge, lawyers, and those watching. So much of people's hearts, beliefs, and lives were exposed that it was hard not to be moved. A juror who sat through all of the testimony, but did not participate in the deliberation (because she was an alternate), was quoted in the newspaper:
"Before I came here, I didn't know anything about land mines. Now I'm eager to share what I've learned here with people I work with. It was a powerful experience."
The closing arguments concluded on Wednesday afternoon and the jury began their deliberations on Thursday morning. Thursday was my first day working at my new job (another, later story). Some people waited at the courthouse all day and agreed to call me at my job as soon as the verdict was announced. But the day past without any word from the courthouse.
It wasn't until Friday at noon that I received that call. I ran over to the courthouse and got their just in time for the proceedings to begin.
But the jury had still not reached a verdict. They just had questions to ask the judge, including "please define 'reasonable' for us" and "what do we do if we are really, truly, 100% stuck and can't reach a decision?" The judge basically said "refer to your previous instructions good luck."
After the jury and the judge left the courtroom, the lawyers and some of the defendants stayed to talk. I noticed that this was the first time that Wynn, the prosecutor, was openly smiling and making eye contact with people throughout the room. Wynn and the defense lawyer, Peter, seemed to be playfully talking to each other, so I went up a little closer so I could hear their conversation. Earlier in the morning, Wynn apparently had coffee with a handful of the defendants, including several nuns. Peter suggested that since Wynn had taken such a liking to the defendants, that the next time protesters were arrested at Alliant Tech, Wynn could take a break from his role as a prosecutor and defend the protesters. Wynn smiled, seemed to blush, and made some comment about his rates being too high.
As everyone was milling about the courtroom, eager for the case to be wrapped up, there was a strong sense of the prosecution, defense, and jurors being in the same boat together. Everyone there had given a lot of themselves that week, a trust had developed, and we were all tired. The sides and factions that were present during the hearing seemed to have fallen away.
As I began to leave, I noticed that Margaritte, the nun who testified first in the case, was sitting next to me. I leaned over to ask her to call me when the verdict was known. She agreed and we began talking some more about our lives outside of trial. "You know, we need you," she said as she put her hand on my shoulder. "This struggle is going to continue." I looked up and noticed that tears had filled her eyes at some point. "We need younger people like you to continue this struggle." Margaritte, and the majority of the other seventy-nine who were arrested, are long-time activists, most of whom are retired. Although the room full of other defendants contained thousands of years of experience and hundreds of arrests, I didn't feel any resignation or lack of energy. There was such vitality there. The voice of compassion and nonviolence was so integral and evident in Margaritte and many other people in that room.
I biked home again to return to some work on my computer, eagerly awaiting the call from Margaritte. The rest of the afternoon passed, but I didn't receive any phone call.
By 7:00, I assumed that the jury hadn't finished deliberating and had just stopped for the weekend. A few minutes later, I heard the NPR news headlines lead off by saying that the all charges in the landmine protester case had been dismissed. They announced that the jury had found eight of the nine people who testified guilty, but in keeping with the prosecutions agreement, the charges for all seventy-nine would be dropped because of the one not guilty verdict.
I felt confused. I was upset that Magaritte or someone else hadn't called. I was disappointed that all nine weren't found not guilty. I was relieved that I wasn't going to jail.
I quickly called a friend to report the news to her, thinking it might make more sense in the telling. It didn't. In fact, after I told her about it, I felt more disconnected and incomplete.
A few hours later I watched the TV news to see how the story was presented there. It received good coverage on all of the stations but they didn't explain any of the defense's case, and just alluded that the jury was probably reluctant to convict all seventy-nine without hearing from each of us. I felt like the case had been dismissed and publicly summarized in a way that belittled all that had happened over the past five days.
The trial feels incomplete to me - both in my understanding of what happened and what it means to me (and what it means to Alliant Tech, the court system, the jurors, etc.). In what ways was it effective?
Ineffective? I still don't know if my arrest was the best use of my energy. The experience currently contains more ambiguities than I am comfortable with. Were we putting our energies in a direction which can really invite change? How did we alienate workers at Alliant and others who aren't already sympathetic? Where did my ego enter into my decision to get arrested and to tell this story? Am I disappointed that the trial is over? Were we open to seeing where we were wrong and adapting?
I am left with a clear sense that this journey is not done - which Magaritte would probably be glad to know.
If and when landmines are banned, there will still be many other weapons which people use to indiscriminately destroy each other. But it is in this struggle to find our own ground to stand on, to live in sync with our own consciences, where I feel most alive. I slip constantly in that struggle.
But collective and creative struggle, such as I experienced every day of this past week, makes me keenly aware that I am part of something larger than myself. I could feel Margaritte pass on that something to me with her firm grip on my shoulder and tears as she told me how grateful she was that younger people like me where a part of the trial.
Several months ago I read Alice Walker's novel, "Possessing the Secret of Joy". The book leads up to the main character discovering that "resistance is the secret of joy." So much of my life has been about resistance that has not been joyful at all - resistance to self-knowledge... resistance to opening my heart ... resistance to accepting the people around me. When I first read Alice Walker's celebration of resistance I squirmed.... and inwardly disagreed with her conclusion. But in a courtroom this week, I experienced a kind of resistance that was more affirming of joy than almost anything else I've seen. I'm still not sure how to describe that power that I felt or what it means for me, but I'm quite grateful for the experience.
Michael Bischoff