Peace activist is in prison for child's sake - Michele Naar-Obed

National Catholic Reporter, Sept 26, 1997 by Judy Gross

It's question few mothers ever have to answer. Should she risk separation from her baby by imprisonment or give up nuclear disarmament activism to stay home?

When Michele Naar-Obed decided to commit an act of civil disobedience, the understanding that she might go to jail was only part of the torment of her decision.

Michele and her husband Greg Boertje-Obed agonized over the choice. In the end, she was the one to enter the Newport News, Va., shipyard. On Aug. 7, 1995, Naar-Obed and fellow activists pounded on and poured their blood down the vehicle launch tubes of the USS Greenville fast-attack nuclear submarine, designed to carry Tomahawk Cruise missiles.

In a 20th century twist to the Old Testament story about Solomon and the two women who were fighting over a baby, Naar-Obed chose to give up her daughter for "her sake and the sake of all children." Why are she and other women activists willing to sacrifice their motherhood on the altar of righteousness?

"When you can accept in your midst a weapon that can crack the earth's core, that can wipe us off the face of the earth, it's the pinnacle of insanity," she responded.

As a result of her action, Naar-Obed was arrested for destruction of federal property and sentenced to a year and a half in the Federal Correctional Institution in Tallahassee, Fla.

The sentencing judge, Rebecca Smith, warned the mother she would return to prison and "be away from your child even longer" if, during the three-year probation to follow, she received even a traffic ticket.

Critics may ask, Which is the greater insanity, the proliferation of nuclear weapons, estimated as costing the United States $9,000 a second, or leaving one's child during her most formative years? Why would a woman who cherishes her motherhood chance missing so much of her only child's infancy?

Making of an activist

Tanned from working in the prison gardens under the Florida sun, Naar-Obed, and intense woman, told her story. Growing up in a New York family and attending Catholic schools didn't prepare her for life as an activist. "I think the Catholic schools at that time were a lot more centered on doctrine, memorizing prayers and understanding sacraments but not the social implications of the gospel." In her teenage years she left the church because she thought it irrelevant.

"I came of age during the Vietnam war. I watched the body counts and saw the graphic footage of the war on television." She said she knew people were in the streets protesting the war, "but I didn't know what to do. I made a promise to myself and God I would find a way to speak out against this, to not be complicit with it."

The Iraq war was just building up when she finished graduate school. Troops and weapons were being sent to Saudi Arabia. "There was a lot of hype about bombing and becoming actively involved in the war," she said.

At that point she began to study the history of war. "None of them ever arose in a vacuum," she said. "There was a history that preceded them and things that could have been done to prevent them."

Naar-Obed committed her first act of civil disobedience in January 1991 by climbing up on the roof of an Air Force recruiting center and pouring blood and oil on the building's sign. She was arrested and was acquitted in a jury trial. She realized then that if she was going to be involved in civil disobedience, she would have to be "every grounded in faith."

A search for a vehicle for her faith led her to explore different paths. At one point she spent some time on a Lakota Sioux reservation in South Dakota. "Their moral and religious beliefs were those I resonated very deeply with," she said, "but it wasn't my tradition." So she returned to her Catholic roots.

Along with the rediscovery of her faith, the young woman began asking herself questions like, "Why did Jesus break the law? He did and there are many examples."

Looking for answers led her to Jonah House in Baltimore. A community of peace activists, Jonah House was started about 25 years ago by Philip Berrigan and his wife, Liz McAlister, both of whom have been arrested countless times for anti-military protests.

Caring for Rachel

The nine adults at Jonah House, including Naar-Obed's husband, form an extended family that cares for Naar-Obed's daughter, Rachel. Not surprisingly, Naar-Obed met the man who became her husband at a demonstration. She is emphatic that it was a family decision that determined she would be the one to risk a prison sentence. Misty-eyed, she says the decision was difficult, "very difficult."

Beyond the family, the community also was in on the decision-making. According to McAlister, who speaks from her own experience, all opinions were heard and considered. "Some may have felt she should wait a bit but still respected Michele's conscience." McAlister was sentenced to a six-month term when her children were only 1 and 2 years old. She remembered it as "rough and unanticipated."

Activists often must second-guess the consequence of their actions, weighing the possible consequences against their zeal to protest, McAlister says. "One can't guarantee anything, so you anticipate the worst and are grateful for anything less."