Imprisoned for Peace

personal account by Jean Buskin

When I reported to SeaTac Federal Detention Center (FDC) it was 6 months after our sit-in and a week after being convicted of the crime of failing to obey a police officer.

Last September, twelve of us had overstayed our welcome in our Senators' offices, shortly before Congress ceded power to George W. Bush to wage war. We wanted a commitment from Senator Cantwell to vote no to war, and the police officers wanted us to leave when the building closed.

When I recently left SeaTac FDC after my 18-day prison sentence, I was exhausted but happy to see the sky again, unremorseful about my crime, and deeply saddened by the violence in Iraq.

My codefendants and I had considered long and hard before deciding on a sit-in. Negatives included inconveniencing employees who had no decision-making power, and of course personal inconvenience. Worst case: no influence on the vote or the war, and being shipped off to a cage in Guantanamo. Best case: being the figurative straw that influences a Senator to say no to an immoral and unnecessary war, being acquitted after a brilliant and public antiwar statement in court. We asked whether the energy it takes to go through a court case and prison would be well spent.

Together we discussed, individually we pondered. In the end our passion for preserving the lives of Iraqis and U.S. military personnel overcame our hesitancy and doubts.

The staff in Senator Cantwell's office were gracious hosts to us, their uninvited guests. We talked for hours while various staffmembers listened politely and even appreciatively, but the staff were unable to give us any answer, much less the commitment to oppose war we asked for. Senator Cantwell soon was casting a vote in favor of war. Meanwhile codefendants had not even been allowed into the office of Senator Murray. She voted no to war, with a statement that bore an uncanny resemblance to the statement we delivered to her office that sit-in day.

By the time I reported to prison, a war was being waged. I regretted having to miss half of Seattle's 7-day emergency response protest to war.

Codefendant Anne Hall and I entered prison, waving to a group of friends and peace activists who saw us off with song, prayer, and wishes. The mood changed rapidly as we were ordered to stand facing walls during our intake processing. The indignities began even before we were ordered to strip naked. Relieved of our own clothing and inspected, the officer tossed clothing on the floor and then kicked them to us. Weeks later seeing the contempt of Iraqis for Saddam Hussein expressed by kicking a statue, I recalled the contempt displayed by the clothes-kicking officer.

From intake to release, most (not all) of the prison staff seemed determined to demonstrate contempt for us. We prisoners were forced to ask for everything we needed; paper towels, toilet paper, envelops, sanitary napkins, and forms for commissary orders--all of these and more were kept in the officer's booth in the cell block. We were treated like children and forced to follow multitudinous rules. In our drab gray concrete and pale yellow cells, we were not allowed anything on the walls, on the little metal desk or the cabinets, not a scrap of bright paper that could have brightened our scenery. Beds needed to be made just-so. Any small infraction could lead to dire consequences. Two women late to work were thrown into solitary, and were still there 2 days later when I was released.

Work? Most of the prisoners are required to work, some are paid $5.25 a month for full-time work. Yes, that's not a mistake, that's per month! They work in the laundry or kitchen or cleaning, and I'm told a lot of it is make-work, cleaning what is already clean. On the other hand, inmates without high school diplomas take GED classes, and some of the teachers are inmates. Non-English speaking prisoners take ESL classes.

Speaking of solitary, Anne and I were thrown into solitary for our first two days. This was not a punishment, we were told (yeah, right!); the rationale was that we only were convicted of misdemeanors, so we shouldn't have to mingle with felons. Why then were we separated in different cells, like any "misbehaving" felon? A little hatch in the door served to push food trays through. The second day we were brought more prison clothes. An officer ordered me to face away from the door and put my hands through the hatch to be handcuffed. Then I was ordered to the far end of the cell. He opened the door, threw in a bundle, quickly locked the door, and ordered me back to the hatch to have handcuffs taken off. I must be very dangerous! After they let us out of solitary, Anne's experience and mine diverged in our two separate cell blocks. Anne had a severe migraine for which they refused her the medicine she needed, and she suffered incredibly--and unnecessarily--for 60 hours. All the time the medicine she'd brought along was denied her, the prescription she'd brought along was ignored.

She was freed early after intervention from a staffmember of Senator Cantwell's office, after advocacy by a lawyer and a friend. What happens to inmates without outside advocates? Anne and I both met wonderful inmates. I saw and experienced many instances of kindness and heard some really sad stories. Other prisoners helped me learn the rules and routines, without which I would probably have gotten into big trouble. People helped one another get through the stresses of prison. I saw people intervene to prevent fights, where even yelling matches could get inmates into solitary. We celebrated good news and visits, and commiserated about family and legal setbacks.

Who is in prison? It's not proper prison etiquette to inquire, but sometimes people mention why they're in. Lots of people are in for drug offenses and visa violations, things I don't consider to be crimes. Being born in the "wrong" country has no statute of limitations. Probably half or more of the inmates will serve their time and then be deported, even women with children who were born in the U.S. Back when prison was mainly for violent crimes, there weren't many women inmates at all. In the short time since SeaTac FDC was built, the cells allocated for women have tripled. It's not the kind of women's equality I ever hoped for! How did people react to me, a protester, in prison more voluntarily than most? Well, first they thought a 20 day sentence was pretty much nothing.

Second they couldn't believe I would have been incarcerated for such a small offense. Many also opposed the war, and some expressed approval for an act of conscience whether or not they agreed about the war. Only once an inmate was very negative. In contrast, prison staff were often negative about my crime.

Seeing prison from the inside reinforces my belief that only the few violent offenders need to be in prison. There are better solutions to drug use than locking people up. On a more personal level, prison staff need major attitude adjustments. I had excellent interactions with other inmates, and floods of supportive letters from friends and activists, yet the demeaning treatment had a profound effect on me in that short time.

The punishment is the confinement, and that is a large deprivation in itself. We prisoners do not benefit, and society does not benefit, by staff rudeness to prisoners! I try to keep things in perspective, and remember that my time inside was just a minor inconvenience with some unpleasant aspects. Some 27 million Iraqis were being bombed, and many were at risk for starvation and thirst.

There's no comparison! Is it worth it to go to prison? Absolutely, if just for the education about the prison system. And effective as a war preventative? Prison certainly isn't the only place we can protest, but it seemed like a good place to me. Henry David Thoreau said our protest of war is heard from a prison cell, and I certainly hope that is true.

Jean Buskin is a longtime peace activist and resident of Seattle. She compiles the Peace and Justice internet calendar at www.scn.org/activism/calendar. Selections from her calendar appear on page 12 of this paper each issue.