And Not Falter
On the deaths of Brad Will and Malachi Ristcher. Why not view the boldest acts as being inspired by a momentary flash of absolute clarity?
Am inspired to post the song/poem below in celebration of the lives and dedication of those who are now gone. Co-author of the piece, friend and anarchist musician Brad Will, was killed in Oaxaca, Mexico, by paramilitaries on October 27 while working as an indymedia journalist covering the popular uprising there. Others killed in that struggle include Esteban Zurita Lopez and a teacher Emilio Alonso Fabian. Recently the Mexican Federal police moved in to impose government control over the region, and quell popular organizing.
[photo: Brad Will playing guitar.]
A friend wrote:
Brad was equally comfortable doing yoga in Central Park with his raw foodist friends, singing with eco-hippies and activists at an Earth First! campfire out in the wilderness, and moshing along to a punk rock show at one of New York’s City’s scummiest, formerly illegal venues: C-Squat. He was a performer who loved to be up front with an acoustic guitar or a fireball spewing from his mouth. Brad was an anarchist, through and through; he believed in making the world a just place without hierarchy and oppression. His death was as political as the life he lived.
Unrelated, in Chicago this past November 3, Malachi Ritscher set himself ablaze in protest over the war in Iraq. Mainstream press has either ignored the political suicide, or questioned Richter’s mental stability. Perhaps there is a personal history of depression, but it puzzles me that extreme actions on the part of sincere people are automatically attributed to poor judgment. Why not view the boldest acts as being inspired by a momentary flash of absolute clarity?
A friend of mine in Philadelphia, Kathy Change, immolated herself on the green lawns of the University of Pennsylvania 10 years ago–on October 22, 1996; she intended her sacrifice to induce soul-searching and, well, change. Press about her, and Ritsher, has presumed to gauge the (”tragically slight”) effect of their suicides, which judgment strikes me as arrogant and unnecessarily detached.
But then de facto we accept mainstream media as “objective,” which translates as a conscious (and actually subjective) unwillingness to explore the awkward contradictions of being human. Our world is a tangle; political realities, moods and emotions, and random social interactions play havoc on the notion of a stable system in need somehow of just a little electoral tweak! It is inaccurate, even dishonest, to derrogate the political motivations of extreme actions and accentuate the emotional ones. Aren’t our choices brilliant because we take them in the context of loneliness and love and anger?
Is the other option not to feel outraged and driven to act? Is inertia really so much easier?
[photo: Malachi Richter playing sax.]
Maybe it’s trivial to point out that the greatest tragedies are the courageous decisions we fail to pursue. What isn’t trivial is how our own bias toward punctiliousness when confronting illegitimate authority is disrespects the contributions of wonderful souls. Death is just daring you to get off your ass. Before it’s too late.
Brad’s friends all over the world organized actions to demand the end of state-sponsored violence in Oaxaca.
Suicide is controversial for many reasons. At least part of it is an itchy conscience; many of us wonder if we are really living according to our ideals of taking care of our family or community or whatever. So we experience someone’s choice to exit as an accusation, and get defensive.
It also underscores that conflict in making personal choices. There is tacit social agreement that 1) death is disagreeable and should be avoided and 2) one should avoid decisions that will create distress in others. Being on the frontlines facing paramilitaries with a video camera: crazy? suicidal? heroic? or a natural choice for someone who acts on their principles?
The streets and electrical circuits are full of excuses to falter, to choose a comfortable thing and not the right thing; because of family, or finances, or safety, or good heavens, think of the implications. Maybe next time. Malachi Ritscher wrote his own obituary, entitled “Out of Time.”
Lately I relish the frustrating complexities, the constant learning, the daily damn insecurity, in struggling for justice as a life-long effort. And i ain’t denigrating any effort: if you call your work art, i won’t argue. ‘Course if you call your play work, i might not join you at the swing set…
Brad and Malachi and Cathy, and others , will be missed because they made choices according to their dreams. And that looks to me like the most pragmatic and realistic thing you can do.
I’ve seen the land beyond these borders where the corporations rule
And they spin their lies and they globalize and the working man’s their tool
And the streams are so polluted that their banks are bleak and bare
And the babies all are born deformed and the smog is everywhere
And the workers’ wages dropped thirty percent in just one year
Now the greedy bastards want to bring that situation here
And you called upon me brother and you asked what could I do
And I told the truth dear brother, when I spoke these words to you:
I will stand beside your shoulder when the tear gas fills the sky
And if a national guardsman shoots me down I’ll be lookin’ him in the eye
And if I will wash their pepper from your face and go with you to jail
And if you don’t make it through this fight I swear I’ll tell your tale
And I will stay with you in the prison cell in solidarity
And I will not leave that cursed room ’til you walk out with me
For we the people fight for freedom while the cops just fight for pay
And as long as truth is in our hearts we’re sure to win some day
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love
I’ve heard the tales from conquered islands where the sweatshop barons rule
Recruiting girls from the Asian slums to be the rich man’s tool
And they’re promised lives of luxury in the golden U.S.A.
And then they’re stranded on these islands with their passports stripped away
And their aging fingers toil and bleed year after grueling year
Now the greedy bastard want to bring those same conditions here
And you called upon me sister and you asked what could I do
And I told the truth dear sister, when I spoke these words to you:
“I will stand beside your shoulder when the tear gas fills the sky
And if a national guardsman shoots me down I’ll be lookin’ him in the eye
And if I will wash their pepper from your face and go with you to jail
And if you don’t make it through this fight I swear I’ll tell your tale
And I will stay with you in the prison cell in solidarity
And I will not leave that cursed room ’til you walk out with me
For we the people fight for freedom while the cops just fight for pay
And as long as truth is in our hearts we’re sure to win some day
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love
I’ve walked the tall and misty forests, pulsing vein from ancient time
And they’ll cut the heart out of a mountain to kill the oldest thing alive
Now the rainforest dwellers smell a burning, and the ‘dozers are close behind
Replaced with plantations and cattle, plowing under whatever they find
With the rain comes a raging mudslide, where the land was stripped and cleared
Now those greedy bastards want to bring those same conditions here
I’ve watched the oceans rolling, schools of fish running under the tide
Working fishermen grounding their bodies, starving on a hook and line
While industrial fishers haul in their nets, scoring the deep ocean floor
Dolphin and sea turtle snagged in those nets will ride those waves no more
They rip the heart out of the deep blue sea, their boats increase every year
Now the greedy bastards want to push their bloody products here
And you called upon me brother and you asked what could I do
And I told the truth dear brother, when I spoke these words to you:
I will stand beside your shoulder when the tear gas fills the sky
And if a national guardsman shoots me down I’ll be lookin’ him in the eye
And if I will wash their pepper from your face and go with you to jail
And if you don’t make it through this fight I swear I’ll tell your tale
And I will stay with you in the prison cell in solidarity
And I will not leave that cursed room ’til you walk out with me
For we the people fight for freedom while the cops just fight for pay
And as long as truth is in our hearts we’re sure to win some day
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love
- By Desert Rat and Brad
“CALL ME A FLAMING RADICAL BURNING FOR ATTENTION, BUT MY REAL INTENTION IS TO SPARK A DISCUSSION OF HOW WE CAN PEACEFULLY TRANSFORM OUR WORLD. AMERICA, I OFFER MYSELF TO YOU AS AN ALARM AGAINST ARMAGEDDON AND A TORCH FOR LIBERTY. “
Kathy Change/October 1996
Wikipedia article on Will
seattle pi article about Ritscher
Ritscher’s Statement
Ritscher’s Obit
December 3, 2006 @ 9:21 am
Thanks for sharing Kathy Change’s story and quote. While it ain’t a choice I’d make for many a different reason, I found her choice and the quote at the end very moving.
December 5, 2006 @ 11:32 pm
Thanks, Lars. As always, this is very moving. We’ll link to this page from The Pagan Science Monitor. And I hope your readers will jump into the discussion at T.P.S.M. on “Was Malachi Ritscher Crazy?”
March 24, 2007 @ 5:50 pm
I heard Bradley’s song at an activist party I attended, and it moved me to tears. Thank you for printing the lyrics so I may share them with others.