By Catherine Hiller
Along with 12,000 others, including my present and ex-husbands, I spent November 6 in Washington, DC, protesting the Tar Sands pipeline. Holding signs quoting Obama’s unfulfilled campaign promises about the environment, we encircled the White House and sang and chanted.
Four days later, on November 10, Obama sent the pipeline proposal back to the State Department for further study, including the pipeline’s impact on climate change. Once in a while you win—if only provisionally!
Although some complain that Obama just kicked the can down the road, others say this additional review and the delay may well kill the project. In my opinion, Obama’s act is a victory for the climate change movement and for the planet.
It is also a triumph for peaceful protest and civil disobedience. Two months earlier, over an 11-day period,1253 people were arrested protesting the pipeline. It was the largest collective act of civil disobedience in the history of the climate movement. Here’s what I remember about it.
It was a perfect day in late August: sunny, dry, in the low 80s. Another year, I might have been visiting my mother in Sag Harbor, or camping out at Burning Man. This year, I was sitting in front of the White House in Washington, DC, with 110 other people. Beside me on the pavement was my son, Jonathan Warnow, 27. I glanced at him, and I smiled to notice we were sitting in the same position, a semi-lotus pose, with the right leg on top.
We are a lot alike. He has my eyes, cheekbones, physical dexterity. We share many of the same beliefs and laugh at many of the same jokes. He has continued our family tradition of activism: his grandfather, Joe, organized for workers’ rights; his grandmother, Glynne, campaigned against noise pollution; his father, Stan, directed an anti-nuclear film. Jonathan and I have gone to rallies, signed petitions, and strategized about climate change. Today would be a first, though: getting arrested together, to protest the Tar Sands pipeline.
There are many reasons to oppose the 1,700-mile Keystone XL Pipeline, which is designed to transport crude oil from the Alberta Tar Sands to refineries in Texas, after which it will mostly be shipped overseas. The entire project is an environmental disaster. Extracting oil from shale requires enormous quantities of water and destroys indigenous lands, songbirds’ habitat, and just about everything else. As it travels southward, the dirty crude oil has the potential to contaminate the Ogallala aquifer and compromise the drinking water of 20 million Americans, because pipeline leaks occur routinely, and this particular crude is especially corrosive.
Finally and most importantly, burning tar sands oil, by whatever nation, exacerbates the problem of global warming. If the pipeline is built, says NASA climatologist James Hansen, “and tar sands are thrown into the mix, it’s essentially game over.” “Game over?” Strong words for a scientist. Yet if people continue to pump carbon into the air at the current rate, if it’s just “business as usual,” some scientists have estimated that by 2100 the earth’s climate will rise 5 degrees Celsius. A planet this warm can support only a billion people, or one seventh of the current population. Climate change is the most important issue of our time because humanity’s very survival is at stake.
My son Jonathan was a founder of Step it Up and its successor 350.org, which brings climate change to public awareness. But it’s a hard issue toorganize around because global warming is gradual. Bill McKibben, who wrote the first popular book on climate change 20 years ago and is the leader of the Tar Sands protest (as well as 350.org), saw that the Keystone Pipeline was a galvanizing event which could motivate activism about global warming. This summer, he decided to move beyond public education and demonstrations and call for civil disobedience.
The night before our arrest, Jonathan and I and the other protesters went to a four-hour training session in a church, where we learned about the possible ramifications of being arrested. We were told to be polite, courteous, and non-violent. We were told to wear business or church clothes, so we would be taken seriously;
and we were told to leave all jewelry and handbags behind, as they and their contents would be inventoried, delaying the arrest process.
The morning of the event, we each carried a photo ID, cash for our release — and nothing else. (I worried:what if I had a contact lens crisis without my tiny plunger?) We met the other protestors at Lafayette Park for speeches and chanting and photographs. Then we moved to the sidewalk in front of the White House with our signs. Somberly, we sang that old union song (with an embellishment): “Which side are you on, Obama, which side are you on?” This was a serious protest, and we’d been advised not to seem merry. It was
hard for me and Jonathan not to smile for such a long time; I had to keep reminding myself to look stern and dedicated. Now and then, I shifted my seated position. Some time went by (no watches, no cell phones).
Finally, a police officer with a bullhorn boomed: “This is a warning. You must vacate this area or you will be arrested.” Although our training had prepared us for this announcement, it was still scary to hear it. Another officer slowly went back and forth in front of our group, taking photographs, while yet another took video footage. All this documentation was intimidating, but no one left, and we were warned a second time, and a third. Then, one by one, and ladies first, we were taken away. We were patted down (quite respectfully), handcuffed with plastic “zip ties,” and put in a paddy-wagon. It was difficult to walk up the steps of the vehicle with my hands behind my back: I kept feeling I would topple.
After about an hour, the bus was full, and the two grated metal doors between the arrestees and the driver were locked. This was so our group of middle-class ladies wouldn’t rush forward and attack the driver on our way to jail. As in many demonstrations, almost all the protesters were either under 30 or over 55. There seems to be a whole generation, those with young children perhaps, that rarely comes out to make its views known. I couldn’t help wishing that in age—and diversity—our group was as varied as the police officers who booked us.
We arrived at the Anacostia jail, where we all chose to “post and release.” This means we accepted our guilt on the minor charge of obstructing the sidewalk, paid the $100 fine, and were freed. There would be no court date or jail time. We were free. But for me, the best moment of the day was not our release but something that happened earlier, by the White House fence. As the police gripped my arms and propelled me toward the paddy-wagon, I heard Jonathan call out, “Thank you, mom.”
Catherine Hiller, a member of the Lower Hudson Group, is a novelist and editor.