Maintaining A Presence For Peace
GU Protest Survives U.S. Victories in Iraq

By Amy Argetsinger
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, April 11, 2003; Page B01

Their tents went up as the first tanks rolled into Iraq last month. And even after the statues started falling in Baghdad, the camp held its ground yesterday -- for now, anyway.

It was never supposed to last this long, this ad lib protest. Originally, the students only meant to stake their turf on the redbrick plaza in the heart of Georgetown University for a round-the-clock vigil of three days. But after three days, the loose-knit group of 40 or so decided to stick it out a week. Then after a week, when the wrap-up rally had everyone's spirits running high, a bushy-haired sophomore stood up and told his friends: "No -- we can't stop this now."

For the fledgling group known as Peace Action, whose members had been grappling for a foothold amid the bustle of undergraduate political activity at Georgetown, it was a defining moment. They would stay until the end of the school year, they declared. Perhaps even through the summer.

But just three weeks into their vigil, the citizens of Baghdad were suddenly cheering the U.S. military action that the Georgetown group so abhorred. No one dared suggest the war was over, but everyone who stopped by had to ask -- what did this mean for Peace Camp?

"That's a very popular question today," Mary Nagle, a sophomore at the tents yesterday, said with an exhausted laugh and a shrug. "That's what everyone wants to know."

Formed last fall, Peace Action drew many of its members from the hodgepodge of other so-called progressive causes on campus -- Eco Action, Students for a Living Wage, Georgetown Solidarity Committee, Georgetown Students for Fair Trade Coffee. At first, that made it difficult for the new group to gain much credence for its antiwar stance.

"We kind of get a lot of crap for being involved in so many things," said Sasha Kinney, 19, a freshman from Drexel Hill, Pa. "People are like, 'Oh, you'll protest anything.' "

Indeed, the "die-ins" that were among the group's first public protest activities last semester -- everyone dropping to the ground in a pantomime of battlefield carnage -- quickly lost their impact. Yet while they knew they could join the larger antiwar protests on the Mall or on the streets of downtown Washington, the students wanted to direct their message to their classmates.

"A lot of students are continuing their lives as if there's nothing going on," said Patricia Stumpf, a senior from Charlotte. "We can't change the current administration's policies, we can't end the war, but we can remind people of what's going on."

By day, they were handing out literature to passersby or hosting the occasional "teach-in." But there was no shortage of such activity on the student free-for-all zone known as Red Square. Other groups were leafleting there, too, or hanging banners for Asia Fest, for Habitat for Humanity, for a production of "Twelfth Night."

Even with its four ragtag tents and its rainbow pace flag (Italian for "peace") and its chaos of dorm-room detritus -- a pile of shoes, a tangle of blankets, an open box of unwrapped muffins -- after several days, Peace Camp barely drew a notice from many of the students rushing by on their way to and from class.

It was at night, when the other groups had gone home, that the tent city came alive.

Three to 15 people were sleeping there on any given evening in a loose rotation that seemingly operated without a schedule. On a recent Friday night, about a half-dozen were wrapped in blankets in a semicircle illuminated by a single desk lamp.

"If you're here and you want to leave and no one's here, you have to call someone," Kinney said, as an old Smashing Pumpkins CD played softly on the boom box.

"It's a non-hierarchical group," said Emil Totonchi, a freshman from Chicago. "Everyone is responsible."

In a private conversation later, Totonchi explained why he opposed the war. "I don't believe democracy can be forced on a people," he said. "There are so many factions of Iraqi people. . . . We went in on the assumption they would greet us as liberators. But there's a lack of self-determination." On a darker note, he added: "I just don't believe you can liberate corpses."

But there was no talk of corpses that night, the mood light, even giddy, around the cold glow of the desk lamp. Sometimes people will bring guitars or drums, and they'll just sit around and play music, said Anders Fremstad, a freshman from South Dakota. "When the weather's nice, it's wonderful," he said. "It's preferable to staying in my dorm room."

"It's fun," said Hollie Blake, a freshman from Rock Hill, S.C. "A lot of us didn't know each other before."

A bag of groceries mysteriously appeared -- cookie dough, lemonade, coffeecake, sushi. "Where did it come from?" asked Blake, with a shriek of delight.

"Some high school girls from down the street," responded Joe Sciarrillo, a freshman from California with a slightly flustered look. "I don't know, they said they didn't want it."

On its nightly vigils, the Peace Camp has endured catcalls and the occasional thrown eggs. Mostly, though, the campers have been surprised to find themselves in lively conversations with their fellow students, whose daytime hesitance seems to evaporate on the way back from the bars.

Administrators haven't said much of anything. "It's unsaid support," Blake asserted. "Even the highest administrators just walk by and say hi."

Two tall young women who declined to give their names smirked at mention of the camp. "It definitely spurs conversation," one said dryly. "Now it's getting to the point where it's too much."

As the sun finally broke onto Georgetown yesterday afternoon, the fate of Peace Camp remained unclear.

"We're glad Saddam Hussein is gone," junior Noah Riseman said. "I just don't think this was the way to go about it."

He complained that the U.S. media were showing only one side of the Baghdad story: "They're not showing stuff in the hospitals, where they're still overflowing with people with bomb injuries."

Still, it was widely acknowledged that things had changed. Peace Action had scheduled an emergency meeting for late last night to weigh its next step.

"The reason we were out here initially hasn't changed -- we're still against what we see as U.S. imperialism in Iraq," Nagle said defiantly. "We might decide a camp-out is no longer the right tactic, but some kind of banner or something needs to be maintained to show our dissent."

A few Peace Action members stopped by the camp on their way to a puppet show and lecture about the plight of unemployed Argentine workers. Would Nagle join them?

She shook her head regretfully. "I have to stay," she said. "No one else is here."