May 2003

Dear Friends,

The talk recently in Nicaragua has been about war, the war in Iraq.

Nicaraguans know a bit about war. The indigenous people were invaded and enslaved by the Spanish. The Liberals of Leon fought battles with the Conservatives of Granada over which would be the capital. The United States invaded and occupied Nicaragua multiple times in the early 20th century. The Sandinistas led an insurrection against the dictator Somoza. Finally, the U.S.-backed contras fought against the Sandinista government for ten years.

Clearly, then, when Nicaraguans talk about the reasons they oppose war, they know what they're talking about. Yet their voices have been ignored—not just by the Bush administration, but even by their own government, which gave its support to the war, despite polls showing that 82 percent of Nicaraguans were against the idea. Nicaraguan President Enrique Bolaños told the world that his country was backing President Bush, demonstrating that truth is the first casualty of war.

At least Nicaraguans knew they were not alone. The press reported that every nation in the world except the United States opposed the war by a very large majority, including those nations whose governments were standing by Bush.

People ask me, as a U.S. citizen, to explain Bush's attitude towards the world. I am largely at a loss to do so, but the best I can do is to say that he has never tried to empathize with anyone outside his own circle. Empathy (not sympathy) is the basis for solidarity, which is really just another word for love. The opposite of empathy is dehumanization, which is the basis for war.

War is neither patient nor kind; war is jealous and boastful; it is arrogant and rude. War insists on its own way; it is irritable and resentful; it does not rejoice at the right, but rejoices at wrong.

One of the most profound lessons I've learned living in Nicaragua is one of the simplest: people are people. We all have strengths and weaknesses, hopes and fears, experience and ignorance. What people want in Nicaragua is the same as what people want in the United States: security, freedom, health, education, and a fair chance to improve their lot in life. And as a sign in a protest march here in Nicaragua said, "If I should be able to live in peace, then Iraq should, too."

In speeches against the war, Nicaraguans held up their country as evidence that violence does not solve problems. The Sandinistas violently overthrew the Somoza regime, the remnants of which reorganized to attempt to violently overthrow the Sandinistas. After decades of killing, Nicaragua is poorer than ever, with nothing to show for the violence but overflowing graveyards. No one in Nicaragua believes that social or political problems can be solved with weapons any more.

Indeed, not only does violence not solve problems, it creates new ones. Most families in Nicaragua lost a member to the war. Many men (and some women) lost arms and legs. All Nicaraguans old enough to remember the war have psychological scars, which are slow to heal. Many soldiers started fighting at a young age, and never learned job skills or social skills. These men now are alcoholics, or abusive to their families, or unemployable, or all of the above.

Many Nicaraguans—and not just Sandinistas—are still bitter about the U.S. interference during the 1980s. I've been relieved to discover that they do not hold me responsible for what my government did, because they do not assume that the Reagan administration represented me then any better than the current one does now. They warn me, however, that terrorists do not make such distinctions.

Not so long ago, these same Muslim fundamentalists were considered by our government to be the "good guys." Back then, they were known as the “mujahadin.” In the same way, the most violent and unstable elements in Nicaraguan society are former contras, who were trained and supported by the U.S. government. Our government doesn't see the pattern emerging, even after decades of military support to dictators who became unacceptable to either their own people or to the United States: the Shah, Ferdinand Marcos, Somoza, Batista, Diem, Chiang Kai-Shek, Pinochet, de Klerk, Idi Amin, Osama Bin Laden, and more.

The lesson is clear: we need to deal with other people peacefully and respectfully. We need to do unto them as we would have them do unto us, and that rules out dropping bombs on them.

Yours,

Stephen Herrick

The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.254