Cindy Has Earned a Rest
By William Rivers Pitt
t r u t h o u t | Columnist
Wednesday 30 May 2007
http://www.truthout.org/docs_2006/053007A.shtml
My alliance with Cindy Sheehan began with an exchange of
emails several years ago after I made mention of her
son, Casey, in an article about the expanding number of
American troops lost in Iraq. She wrote to thank me, and
to correct me on some small details about precisely when
and how Casey died. Our friendship grew from that
moment, and over time, she was always there to hand me a
good kick in the pants whenever I needed one.
Last March, Cindy's long-belt of road-bound activism
brought her to Boston, where she spoke at a rally
commemorating the four-year anniversary of the war. My
bar is a favorite spot of hers; I'd brought her there
twice before during previous visits she made to
Massachusetts, and both times I saw the same woman of
passionate energy and commitment who sat in a Texas
ditch until the country could no longer ignore her - or
the war. The light was in her eyes, the hope that things
could be changed was in every word she spoke and, as
ever, the sorrow from her loss was there like a shroud.
She was motivated, optimistic, cynical, tired, inspired
and resolute, all at the same time.
When I brought her and some of her friends out to have a
beer and relax last March, however, I saw a different
Cindy.
She was not broken or in despair, but neither was she
the same woman I'd known before. Health problems had
robbed her of the energy that once crackled around her,
one arm was in a sling because of tendon damage, and she
was tired. Bone-tired. Tired in soul and spirit. I began
that evening looking forward to the kind of rollicking
talks we'd always enjoyed together, but wound up
spending most of the night pleading with her to take
some time off and rest.
Cindy hadn't really stopped, you see. She'd never left
the road, never surrendered to exhaustion or sadness,
never allowed the barbs from enemies and so-called
"allies" to deter her or discourage her. But sitting
there, I could see how much of a toll her efforts and
sacrifices were taking. The treads on her tires were
worn down to the radials, so to speak.
The announcement of her withdrawal from activism the
other day, therefore, came as no real surprise. Everyone
has limits, and Cindy's inspired and determined
sacrifices took her farther past any limits most could
imagine. The last time I saw her, she was so tired, so
worn, so discouraged, so sad and, worst, was beginning
to succumb to a sense of futility over the cause. She
was, at that moment, a shadow of the hardcase I'd come
to know and love.
Cindy has never completely recovered from the loss of
her son, I think, and the exhaustion she now feels
surely stems in part from that sorrow. The road played a
large part in robbing her strength, of course, because
the road always takes far more than it gives. Attacks
from those who still support this Iraq war, who still
treat politics like an our-side-your-side football
rivalry, likewise took their toll.
What seems to have cut her deepest, however, were all
the insults and denigrations and frustrations that any
public-facing progressive activist will find within the
community of their so-called allies. We spoke of this in
March, spoke of how utterly impossible it is to keep
progressives from undermining their own efforts and
ideals, simply because so many within that community
choose to place this narcissistic, self-important egoism
above actually getting anything done.
"I have also tried to work within a peace movement that
often puts personal egos above peace and human life,"
wrote Cindy in her farewell letter the other day. "This
group won't work with that group; he won't attend an
event if she is going to be there; and why does Cindy
Sheehan get all the attention anyway? It is hard to work
for peace when the very movement that it's named after
has so many divisions."
That pretty much sums it up, and best describes why so
many simple, good and necessary progressive policy ideas
wither on the vine. It is what it is, and Cindy tried
her best to batter through that phenomenon to bring
people together and end this Iraq war. It should come as
no surprise that insults from the very community that
once championed her became the final straw. Herding cats
is hard enough without getting scratched to ribbons for
your troubles.
Anyone who called her an attention-whore is a fool, and
is absolutely ignorant of what real sacrifice looks like
and feels like and requires and costs. Anyone glad for
her departure from activism is celebrating a disaster,
is celebrating the loss of a face and heart and soul
that brought this war into the living rooms of this
TV-dulled nation in a way that no other effort or march
or activism had before.
But anyone surprised that she's going home should have
been with me in March, and seen her condition of body
and spirit. Cindy has done enough. She has done more
than anyone else to end this war. She has honored her
son, changed the way this nation looks at this war, she
has inspired, and that is enough. Those who rallied to
her banner, who still consider her a hero - and yes,
Cindy, there are many more of us than you can possible
imagine - will take it from here as best they can.
And, by the way, there's also this:
"We're going to see what other direction we can come at
it," said Cindy on Tuesday during Ed Schultz's radio
show, "because obviously the direction that we're going
has stopped being effective. We're going to close up the
factory, we're going to retool, and we're going to see
how we can come at this problem from a different angle."
So.
William Rivers Pitt is a New York Times and
internationally bestselling author of two books: "War on
Iraq: What Team Bush Doesn't Want You to Know" and "The
Greatest Sedition Is Silence." His newest book, "House
of Ill Repute: Reflections on War, Lies, and America's
Ravaged Reputation," is now available from
PoliPointPress.