I would fain grant and distribute until the wise among men could once more enjoy their folly and the poor once more their riches."
--Nietzsche
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
by Evan Greer
(Adapted from original printing, in The Andover Townsman)
Copyright Evan Greer, 2002
My jacket and sweater lay on the concrete of the bandstand, but I still felt warm as I took in the sight of a crowd that I had never imagined when I started organizing, made those first few phone calls only two months ago. It felt like the 70s.
In reality, it was about 40 degrees colder and 30 years later, but the energy of the crowd had my heart pumping overtime and the vast expanse of chanting people and colorful signs tugged at my memory, which, unable to identify the sight from personal experience eventually shrugged and called up a page from a Vietnam section of a history book. It wasn�t until the next day, reading the morning paper, that I learned that this rally, our rally, was indeed the largest in Boston since the Vietnam War.
�I�m almost eighteen and they could draft me tonight!� I sang into the microphone, inciting an uproarious cheer from the crowd of more than 15,000 Americans gathered on Boston Common to protest the possibility of a preemptive war in Iraq. That was when I dropped my guitar pick.
This was not surprising, since my right hand had been shaking uncontrollably for about three hours, ever since I first shook hands with one of my favorite historians and orators, Professor Howard Zinn. My left hand wasn�t doing so well either, since it had recently nudged the arm of actor Tim Robbins, letting him know that his speaking time was up, and minutes ago had rested around the shoulders of Green Party Gubernatorial candidate Jill Stein. I�ll admit it�I was star struck.
In the time that it took for my guitar pick to fall from my celebrity-stricken fingers to the ground below, my mind rushed through the bizarre train of events that had led me to this moment:
It all started back in September. I had been doing all the things I was supposed to�writing letters to my senators, calling the White House, writing opinion pieces for the newspapers�but somehow my voice sounded too loud to me, as if I were the only one speaking. I was frustrated and felt as though I wasn�t changing anything. I had always been an individualist, and I was surprised when I found myself doubting my ability to bring about change. In an inspirational day-planner, of all places, I ran across a quote by Benjamin Franklin: �Well done is better than well said.� I decided that it was time to stop saying things and start doing things, and I stated my intentions around the dinner table. I clearly recall the expression on my parents� faces when I broke our mashed potato induced silence with the words, �Well, I�ve decided to organize a peace rally.� My father arched his eyebrow in that �you have no idea what you�re getting into� manner that only fathers are capable of. My mother wrinkled her face in that �AHH! This will prevent you from ever getting into college!� way that only mothers are capable of. I went back to my mashed potatoes.
It started slowly. I called friends and spoke with my peers at the Cambridge School of Weston, as well as friends from the Unitarian Universalist Church. I founded the Peace Now! Organization on September 23rd, 2002 by declaring its existence to an enormous crowd consisting of my parents, a friend, and my dog. Everywhere I turned I found passionate people ready to help, but I had no idea what to ask them to help with. Acting on a whim, I did what every manager in a fix does: make committees. My followers were quickly divided into committees with responsibilities like publicity, media relations, speakers and programming, and first aid. All these committees constantly reported back to me, making checking e-mail a task that required at least an hour a night. I started spending unspeakably huge amounts of time sending formatted letters to major peace organizations asking for endorsements and contacting seemingly unreachable celebrities, asking them to make appearances. By mid-October, I thought I was ready to facilitate a small peace rally on Boston Common, the date set for November 3rd.
That was when I heard about United for Justice With Peace. Erin Stephens-North, a high school Junior formerly of Andover who was instrumental in the organizing of this rally, brought my attention to a flyer for a rally being held on the same day as ours, sponsored by United for Justice With Peace. Ironically, when I got home that day, there was an e-mail in my in-box from a UJP representative, asking me to come to a planning meeting that night. To make a long and complex story short, Peace Now! joined forces with United for Justice with Peace, and working together, we planned the November 3rd Demonstration.
UJP had a late start in the organizing of this rally, and they were grateful for the work that I had already done in getting the word out and contacting speakers. In turn, I was grateful to work with a group of people who had done this before, and weren�t taking shots in the dark as I had been. I realized then, as I heard these seasoned veterans of peace action bring up issues that I had never thought of�march routes, lawyers, electricity�that my father�s expression had been correct; I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
Over the past several months, I have frequently been accused of being unpatriotic. If anything, the organizing of this rally only reinforced my strong love of our wonderful country. Only in America can we dissent so strongly against the views of our government, and then have the president thank us for exercising our first amendment. Only here can one person, regardless of age or import, start a movement that results in a front page spread in the Boston Globe.
My mother remembers particularly fondly last Saturday morning, when she answered the phone and found herself speaking to Jill Stein�s campaign manager.
�Hello, this is Adam from the Jill Stein for Governor Campaign, is Evan in?�
�No, he�s taking the SATs this morning.�
�What?!�
They had no idea that I was only seventeen.
The sharp metallic grating of my guitar strings on my palm brought me hurtling back to the present as I took stock of the situation: my guitar pick was on the ground, the crowd was cheering like crazy, and I had one verse to go. I quickly adjusted, moving the guitar closer to the mic, and went straight into my harmonica solo, strumming as hard as my frozen fingers would allow. 30 seconds later I was putting my guitar aside with one hand and throwing a triumphant peace sign to the crowd with the other. As the crowd dispersed from the common I shook my head in profound amazement at what we had accomplished.
The next day, nothing happened. Saddam Hussein did not suddenly renounce the ways of dictatorship and appoint Noam Chomsky the new president of Iraq. Senator Kerry didn�t suddenly wake up with a conscience and turn his senate seat over to write-in candidate Randall Forsberg. Senator Paul Wellstone did not return from death and strike down his republican adversary. The long-dormant gobs of gray matter rattling around in George Bush�s skull did not suddenly coalesce into anything resembling a brain. I didn�t expect as much.
When the republicans won the senate a few days later, I felt an acute sense of failure. After such an amazing experience, I had begun to think that everyone felt the way that we did as we marched through the streets of Boston chanting �No war! No way!� For the first time in a while, my voice felt like just one among many. It was then that I realized that my function as an activist and organizer is not so much that of a hypnotist, changing the way that people think, but rather that of a psychologist: I can�t change the world; the world has to want to change first.
In some ways, organizing the rally taught me that one person can make a difference. If I hadn�t made the decision to start organizing, the rally wouldn�t have happened. On the other hand, I realized that one person can make a difference only with the help of others. If I had just gone to Boston Common alone that day and held up a sign, nothing would have happened. I learned the key elements of organizing: set your goals high but don�t expect too much, it�s not about you; it�s about the cause. And bring duct-tape, because things rarely go as planned.