[Vision2020] "I Was Wrong" says reformed Anti-War Protester

[John Harrell]

I Was Wrong! 

By Ken Joseph, Jr. 
Amman, Jordan
http://assyrianchristians.com/i_was_wrong_mar_26_03.htm

[excerpt below, see URL for complete article]

How do you admit you were wrong? 

What do you do when you realizethose you were defending in fact did not want your defense
and wanted something completely different from you and from the world? 

This is my story. It will probably upset everybody - those with whom I have fought for
peace all my life and those for whom the
decision for war comes a bit too fast. 

I am an Assyrian. I was born and raised in Japan where I am the second generation in
ministry after my Father came to Japan in
answer to General Douglas Macarthur's call for 10,000 young people to help rebuild Japan
following the war. 

As a minister and due to my personal convictions I have always been against war for any
and all reasons. It was precisely this moral
conviction that led me to do all I could to stop the current war in Iraq. 

>From participating in demonstrations against the war in Japan to strongly opposing it on
my radio program, on television and in regular
columns I did my best to stand against what I thought to be an unjust war against an
innocent people - in fact my people. 

As an Assyrian I was told the story of our people from a young age. How my grandparents
had escaped the great Assyrian Holocaust
in 1917 settling finally in Chicago. 

Currently there are approximately six million Assyrians - approximately 1.2 million in
Iraq and the rest scattered in the Assyrian
Diaspora across the world. 

Without a country and rights even in our native land it has been the prayer of
generations that the Assyrian Nation will one day be
restored and the people of the once great Assyrian Empire will once again be home. 

It was with that feeling, together with supplies for our Church and family that I went to
Iraq to do all I could to help make a
difference. 

The feeling as I crossed the border was exhilarating - `home at last` thought as I would
for the first time visit the land of my
forefathers. 

The kindness of the border guards when they learned I was Assyrian, the taxi, the people
on the street it was like being back `home`
after a long absence. 

Now I finally know myself! The laid back, relaxed atmosphere, the kindness to strangers,
the food, the smells, the language all seemed
to trigger a long lost memory somewhere in my deepest DNA. 

The first order of business was to attend Church. It was here where my morals were raked
over the coals and I was first forced to
examine them in the harsh light of reality. 

Following a beautiful `Peace` to welcome the Peace Activists in which even the children
participated we moved to the next room to
have a simple meal. 

Sitting next to me was an older man who carefully began to sound me out. Apparently
feeling the freedom to talk in the midst of the
mingling crowd he suddenly turned to me and said `There is something you should know.`
`What` I asked surprised at the sudden
comment. 

`We didn't want to be here tonight`. he continued. `When the Priest asked us to gather
for a Peace Service we said we didn't want to
come`. He said. 

`What do you mean` I inquired, confused. `We didn't want to come because we don't want
peace` he replied. 

`What in the world do you mean?` I asked. `How could you not want peace?` `We don't want
peace. We want the war to come` he
continued. 

What in the world are you talking about? I blurted back. 

That was the beginning of a strange odyssey that deeply shattered my convictions and
moral base but at the same time gave me hope
for my people and, in fact, hope for the world. 

Beginning that night and continuing on in the private homes of relatives with whom I
stayed little by little the scales began to come off
my eyes. 

I had not realized it but began to realize that all foreigners in Iraq are subject to 24
hour surveillance by government `minders` who
arrange all interviews, visits and contact with ordinary Iraqis. Through some fluke
either by my invitation as a religious person and or
my family connection I was not subject to any government `minders` at any time throughout
my stay in Iraq. 

As far as I can tell I was the only person including the media, Human Shields and others
in Iraq without a Government `minder` there
to guard. 

What emerged was something so awful that it is difficult even now to write about it.
Discussing with the head of our tribe what I
should do as I wanted to stay in Baghdad with our people during their time of trial I was
told that I could most help the Assyrian cause
by going out and telling the story to the outside world. 

Simply put, those living in Iraq, the common, regular people are in a living nightmare.
>From the terror that would come across the
faces of my family at a unknown visitor, telephone call, knock at the door I began to
realize the horror they lived with every day. 

Over and over I questioned them `Why could you want war? Why could any human being desire
war?` They're answer was quiet and
measured. `Look at our lives!`We are living like animals. No food, no car, no telephone,
no job and most of all no hope.` 

I would marvel as my family went around their daily routine as normal as could be.
Baghdad was completely serene without even a
hint of war. Father would get up, have his breakfast and go off to work. The children to
school, the old people - ten in the household
to their daily chores. 

`You can not imagine what it is to live with war for 20, 30 years. We have to keep up our
routine or we would lose our minds` 

Then I began to see around me those seemingly in every household who had lost their
minds. It seemed in every household there was
one or more people who in any other society would be in a Mental Hospital and the ever
present picture of a family member killed in
one of the many wars. 

Having been born and raised in Japan where in spite of 50 years of democracy still
retains vestiges of the 400 year old police state I
quickly began to catch the subtle nuances of a full blown, modern police state. 

I wept with family members as I shared their pain and with great difficulty and deep soul
searching began little by little to understand
their desire for war to finally rid them of the nightmare they were living in. 

The terrible price paid in simple, down to earth ways - the family member with a son who
just screams all the time, the family member
who lost his wife who left unable to cope anymore, the family member going to a daily job
with nothing to do, the family member with
a son lost to the war, a husband lost to alcoholism the daily, difficult to perceive slow
death of people for whom all hope is lost. 

The pictures of Sadaam Hussein whom people hailed in the beginning with great hope
everywhere. Sadaam Hussein with his hand
outstretched. Sadaam Hussein firing his rifle. Sadaam Hussein in his Arab Headdress.
Sadaam Hussein in his classic 30 year old picture
- one or more of these four pictures seemed to be everywhere on walls, in the middle of
the road, in homes, as statues - he was
everywhere! 

All seeing, all knowing, all encompassing. 

`Life is hell. We have no hope. But everything will be ok once the war is over.` The
bizarre desire for a war that would rid them of the
hopelessness was at best hard to understand. 

`Look at it this way. No matter how bad it is we will not all die. We have hoped for some
other way but nothing has worked. 12 years
ago it went almost all the way but failed. We cannot wait anymore. We want the war and we
want it now` 

Coming back to family members and telling them of progress in the talks at the United
Nations on working some sort of compromise
with Iraq I was welcomed not with joy but anger. `No, there is no other way! We want the
war! It is the only way he will get out of
our lives` 

Once again going back to my Japanese roots I began to understand. The stories I had heard
from older Japanese of how in a strange
way they had welcomed the sight of the bombers in the skies over Japan. 

Of course nobody wanted to be bombed but the first sight of the American B29 Bombers
signaled to them that the war was coming to
an end. An end was in sight. There would be terrible destruction. They might very well
die but finally in a tragic way there was finally
hope. 

Then I began to feel so terrible. Here I had been demonstrating against the war thinking
I had been doing it for the very people I was
here now with and yet I had not ever bothered to ask them what they wanted. What they
wanted me to do. 

It was clear now what I should do. I began to talk to the so called `human shields`. Have
you asked the people here what they want?
Have you talked to regular people, away from your `minder` and asked them what they want?


I was shocked at the response. `We don't need to do that. We know what they want.` was
the usual reply before a minder stepped up
to check who I was. 

With tears streaming down my face in my bed in a tiny house in Baghdad crowded in with 10
other of my own flesh and blood, all
exhausted after another day of not living but existing without hope, exhausted in daily
struggle simply to not die I had to say to myself
`I was wrong`. 

How dare I claim to speak for those for whom I had never asked what they wanted! 

{..snip.. see URL for complete article}

__________________________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Platinum - Watch CBS' NCAA March Madness, live on your desktop!
http://platinum.yahoo.com