Basu: Moved by folly of Iraq war, teens stand up by lying down

Rekha Basu • April 2, 2008

Even as theater, the sight was chilling: about 100 teenage bodies lying motionless on the concrete plaza, arms outstretched or folded, limbs strewn about or curled, self-protectively. Like laundry laid out on a lawn to dry.

Like body outlines etched in chalk at a crime scene.

Few things could silence 100 vocal, high-energy high school students hanging out on a Friday afternoon. But last Friday, war did.

It was Students Beyond War's "die-in," staged to call attention to the Iraq war's five-year death toll. Each student, and the handful of supportive elders who joined them in Nollen Plaza, represented 40 American soldiers and 1,510 Iraqis killed to date.

U.S. solider deaths recently passed the 4,000 mark.

And March was an especially deadly month for Iraqis. Reuters put the civilian toll at 923. But the Iraqi dead are not even tallied by the Defense Department. They're considered collateral damage, part of the necessary cost of achieving U.S. objectives - which become more elusive by the day.

The wind rustled through the papers pinned to the protesters' chests, with their hand-penned numbers of the war dead. "Get a job!" someone yelled from a passing car.

A man driving by in camouflage clothing shouted some heckling words, but the kids didn't budge or react.

They're learning what you're up against for simply calling attention to the war's dead. It's considered unseemly, unpatriotic, subversive even, as if you're undermining the president's authority.

This is a time when hormones are raging. Spring dances and contests are in full swing, and college notifications are coming in. Yet this core group of about 30 is spending its spare time meeting weekly, marching, organizing, reading Thomas Merton and Howard Zinn and seeking out historians and economists to bring context to the situation.

Words like "imperialism" have seeped into their vocabulary. Assertions like these show up in their posters flapping about in the late-afternoon breeze: Each day of this war drains $720 million from the economy. That could buy 34,904 four-year college scholarships. It could equip 1.27 million homes with renewable energy.

These kids, who were only 13 when we began dropping bombs on Iraq, have reached adulthood. The war has served as a constant backdrop to their middle and high school years. They've grown up hearing news reports of another family losing a soldier, and seeing schoolmates line up by recruiting tables in their schools.

But they've woken up to the folly of it.

Students Beyond War's Web site offers insights into their thought processes. Hoover senior Aaron Glynn's journal entry reflects on the most eventful Friday afternoon of his life, an October sit-in at Sen. Chuck Grassley's Des Moines office. Six people including Glynn were arrested. He described wanting to leave when the building was closing. Then he recounted a conversation with a sympathetic officer on the way down to the police station: "The lieutenant told me that my actions were the right kind of protesting. He knew the grand effect peaceful disobedience has had in shaping this nation, and was proud to see a new group of youth in America expressing their opposition to injustice."

Glynn was later asked by a Register reporter whether he worried that his police mug shot would hurt his chances of getting into college. "The sort of people that look at a picture like that and assume guilt and recklessness - I don't want to be a part of that," he said.

He did OK. He's been accepted at Northwestern.

Iowa hasn't seen as much anti-war activism as some places, so there is both more risk and more riding on doing protests here.

On Friday, each passive face inside a hooded sweatshirt, each still pair of legs in baggy jeans and each unflinching pair of sneakered feet cast a fresh angle on the war costs.

Each number on the casualty list has a face, a name, a history. Many probably looked and sounded a lot like these kids, once.

REKHA BASU can be reached at rbasu@dmreg.com or (515) 284-8584.