Lessons From Resisting Draft Registration That Can Help With the Fight Against Trump

Forty years ago I was sleeping on a mattress in the catwalk of an overcrowded cellblock in the old Public Safety Building in downtown Syracuse. I had just been sentenced to prison for my public refusal to register for the draft. On February 4, 1985, I walked into the Federal Courthouse in Syracuse. Having recently turned 24, I was a bit nervous about my future, but buoyed by the support of a broad community, including my family. Standing up for my deeply-held belief that war threatened the future of humanity eased my anxiety. Judge Howard Munson sent me to prison for six months, to be followed by 30 months of probation and a 30 month suspended sentence.

These days I’m reflecting on that chapter of my life, and the lessons that are useful as we face a White House seeking to undermine democracy and concentrate power in the hands of an autocrat. In the 1980s, the Reagan administration was engaged in its own deception, illegal activity, and attacks on working people. However, I believe that the current moment is, without a doubt, the most dangerous time for our nation during my lifetime. U.S. President Donald Trump’s nomination of highly-unqualified cabinet picks and efforts to dismantle the federal government seek an unprecedented level of executive power and blind obedience.

Without sustained, persistent, and bold grassroots organizing and resistance, they will be able to carry out many of their anti-democratic schemes.

Although I was sent to prison for refusing to sign a piece of paper (the draft registration form), the larger issue was my belief that war is an immoral and destructive way to solve problems. In court the month before, I argued, “I have an obligation to uphold international law based on the Nuremberg Accords, which were initiated by the United States following World War II. I have an obligation not to participate in, ‘Planning, preparation, initiation or, waging of war,’ even if in order to uphold those agreements, I need to break the laws of my own country.”

I stood alone before the judge and jury during the trial and the sentencing, but was joined by a courtroom packed with supporters and hundreds outside demonstrating their commitment to move our nation from a foreign policy based on war and bullying to one based on diplomacy and international cooperation.

Before my sentencing I read excerpts from a Solidarity Statement signed by over 2,600 people,

The case of the United States against Andy Mager is also the case of the United States against each of us and against many others who are not here today… We ask, if you convict Andy Mager, that you convict all of us, that you imprison all of us, or none of us.

The time in prison included some very challenging moments, but was a powerful learning experience. I saw firsthand what happens to so many millions of people caught up in our criminal legal system. As a white person from a privileged background, this glimpse into the lives of people who are marginalized and forgotten has continued to inform my organizing work.

From court, I was taken to the public safety building in Syracuse, where I was held for 10 days before transfer to the federal prison system. Within a couple of days, I was part of a hunger strike to demand better treatment and conditions. The strike was clearly inspired in part by my resistance and the publicity my fellow prisoners had seen it garner. Those involved crossed many of the boundaries which keep people divided in prison and throughout our society and included at least one person who told me he agreed with his father that “they should take people like me (anti-war protesters) out behind the barn and shoot them.”

I received support from people who fully supported my political perspective, and respect from others who disagreed with me on those issues but understood the importance of standing up publicly for one’s beliefs. When I left Lewisburg Federal Prison Camp, my resolve to continue organizing for peace and justice was firm.

The four decades since then have offered many lessons which are instructive in our current situation. We are just a few weeks into an administration which is seeking to sow chaos and division. The Trump regime hopes to overwhelm us with so many outrageous actions simultaneously. Their goal is to create fear and hopelessness, enabling them to greatly concentrate power and move forward with their authoritarian plans.

Without sustained, persistent, and bold grassroots organizing and resistance, they will be able to carry out many of their anti-democratic schemes. Each of us has a responsibility to reach inside and find the courage to do what we can in our individual lives; where we work, study, pray, or recreate; and through coming together collectively. Here’s my best thinking right now, based on over four decades of community organizing, including my refusal to cooperate with draft registration:

• Don’t act out of fear and panic—we need to be thoughtful and strategic, while also acting quickly to intervene. The impact of the organizing on my draft resistance case was much greater because of the planning over many months.
• Learn from the development of fascism in other countries—Germany, Italy, Chile, Hungary, and elsewhere—and from the resistance movements.
• Join or initiate collective campaigns to stand up for democratic values; protect those most targeted; and work for equity, justice, and a sustainable future. The hunger strike described briefly above is an example of people with many differences coming together over shared concerns to take action.
• There are many specific issues under threat, from the human rights of immigrants to a quickly warming planet to efforts to repair the harm from centuries of racism. Focus your energy where you feel the most passion and believe you can best contribute. In the 1980s as someone directly affected by draft registration, I was highly motivated to work on that issue, and was effective because I could speak in the first person about my choices.
• Lend support—emotional, practical, and material to people in your community. Practice mutual aid. Listen to the pain of immigrants facing deportation or trans youth in fear, and offer assistance as you are able.
• Pressure public officials—demand that they protect their constituents and stand for justice, let them know when you’re upset by their actions and that you appreciate it when they do the right thing. Call them, write letters, send emails, visit their offices.
• Participate in demonstrations, marches, boycotts, and nonviolent direct action. Visible, public opposition is important, and gathering together in solidarity helps us maintain our spirit and commitment in difficult times. The support demonstrations at my trial and sentencing, including two small groups who engaged in nonviolent direct action after my sentencing, engaged many more people in the work, increased public attention, and strengthened my capacity to resist.
• Organize support for candidates in local races who will work with us to protect democracy and our communities.
• Speak up in solidarity when you hear attacks on other people or repetition of lies and disinformation.

The coming months and years will be difficult, and there will be continued, and in some cases escalating, suffering. As I learned 40 years ago, “Together We Are Strong.” We can’t stop all of it, but if we pull together and act out of love and compassion we can defend much of what is important and lay the foundation for more transformational change in the years and decades to come.