Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

used without permission (my brother sent it to me in an e mail

Published on Wednesday, April 16, 2003 by
CommonDreams.org
'A Chill Wind is Blowing in This Nation...'
Transcript of the speech given by actor Tim Robbins to
the National Press Club in Washington, D.C., on April
15, 2003.

TIM ROBBINS: Thank you. And thanks for the invitation.
I had originally been asked here to talk about the war
and our current political situation, but I have
instead chosen to hijack this opportunity and talk
about baseball and show business. (Laughter.) Just
kidding. Sort of.

I can't tell you how moved I have been at the
overwhelming support I have received from newspapers
throughout the country in these past few days. I hold
no illusions that all of these journalists agree with
me on my views against the war. While the journalists'
outrage at the cancellation of our appearance in
Cooperstown is not about my views, it is about my
right to express these views. I am extremely grateful
that there are those of you out there still with a
fierce belief in constitutionally guaranteed rights.
We need you, the press, now more than ever. This is a
crucial moment for all of us.

For all of the ugliness and tragedy of 9-11, there was
a brief period afterward where I held a great hope, in
the midst of the tears and shocked faces of New
Yorkers, in the midst of the lethal air we breathed as
we worked at Ground Zero, in the midst of my
children's terror at being so close to this crime
against humanity, in the midst of all this, I held on
to a glimmer of hope in the naive assumption that
something good could come out of it.

I imagined our leaders seizing upon this moment of
unity in America, this moment when no one wanted to
talk about Democrat versus Republican, white versus
black, or any of the other ridiculous divisions that
dominate our public discourse. I imagined our leaders
going on television telling the citizens that although
we all want to be at Ground Zero, we can't, but there
is work that is needed to be done all over America.
Our help is needed at community centers to tutor
children, to teach them to read. Our work is needed at
old-age homes to visit the lonely and infirmed; in
gutted neighborhoods to rebuild housing and clean up
parks, and convert abandoned lots to baseball fields.
I imagined leadership that would take this incredible
energy, this generosity of spirit and create a new
unity in America born out of the chaos and tragedy of
9/11, a new unity that would send a message to
terrorists everywhere: If you attack us, we will
become stronger, cleaner, better educated, and more
unified. You will strengthen our commitment to justice
and democracy by your inhumane attacks on us. Like a
Phoenix out of the fire, we will be reborn.

And then came the speech: You are either with us or
against us. And the bombing began. And the old
paradigm was restored as our leader encouraged us to
show our patriotism by shopping and by volunteering to
join groups that would turn in their neighbor for any
suspicious behavior.

In the 19 months since 9-11, we have seen our
democracy compromised by fear and hatred. Basic
inalienable rights, due process, the sanctity of the
home have been quickly compromised in a climate of
fear. A unified American public has grown bitterly
divided, and a world population that had profound
sympathy and support for us has grown contemptuous and
distrustful, viewing us as we once viewed the Soviet
Union, as a rogue state.

This past weekend, Susan and I and the three kids went
to Florida for a family reunion of sorts. Amidst the
alcohol and the dancing, sugar-rushing children, there
was, of course, talk of the war. And the most
frightening thing about the weekend was the amount of
times we were thanked for speaking out against the war
because that individual speaking thought it unsafe to
do so in their own community, in their own life. Keep
talking, they said; I haven't been able to open my
mouth.

A relative tells me that a history teacher tells his
11-year-old son, my nephew, that Susan Sarandon is
endangering the troops by her opposition to the war.
Another teacher in a different school asks our niece
if we are coming to the school play. They're not
welcome here, said the molder of young minds.

Another relative tells me of a school board decision
to cancel a civics event that was proposing to have a
moment of silence for those who have died in the war
because the students were including dead Iraqi
civilians in their silent prayer.

A teacher in another nephew's school is fired for
wearing a T- shirt with a peace sign on it. And a
friend of the family tells of listening to the radio
down South as the talk radio host calls for the murder
of a prominent anti-war activist. Death threats have
appeared on other prominent anti-war activists'
doorsteps for their views. Relatives of ours have
received threatening e-mails and phone calls. And my
13-year-old boy, who has done nothing to anybody, has
recently been embarrassed and humiliated by a sadistic
creep who writes -- or, rather, scratches his column
with his fingernails in dirt.

Susan and I have been listed as traitors, as
supporters of Saddam, and various other epithets by
the Aussie gossip rags masquerading as newspapers, and
by their fair and balanced electronic media cousins,
19th Century Fox. (Laughter.) Apologies to Gore Vidal.
(Applause.)

Two weeks ago, the United Way canceled Susan's
appearance at a conference on women's leadership. And
both of us last week were told that both we and the
First Amendment were not welcome at the Baseball Hall
of Fame.

A famous middle-aged rock-and-roller called me last
week to thank me for speaking out against the war,
only to go on to tell me that he could not speak
himself because he fears repercussions from Clear
Channel. "They promote our concert appearances," he
said. "They own most of the stations that play our
music. I can't come out against this war."

And here in Washington, Helen Thomas finds herself
banished to the back of the room and uncalled on after
asking Ari Fleischer whether our showing prisoners of
war at Guantanamo Bay on television violated the
Geneva Convention.

A chill wind is blowing in this nation. A message is
being sent through the White House and its allies in
talk radio and Clear Channel and Cooperstown. If you
oppose this administration, there can and will be
ramifications.

Every day, the air waves are filled with warnings,
veiled and unveiled threats, spewed invective and
hatred directed at any voice of dissent. And the
public, like so many relatives and friends that I saw
this weekend, sit in mute opposition and fear.

I am sick of hearing about Hollywood being against
this war. Hollywood's heavy hitters, the real power
brokers and cover-of-the- magazine stars, have been
largely silent on this issue. But Hollywood, the
concept, has always been a popular target.

I remember when the Columbine High School shootings
happened. President Clinton criticized Hollywood for
contributing to this terrible tragedy -- this, as we
were dropping bombs over Kosovo. Could the violent
actions of our leaders contribute somewhat to the
violent fantasies of our teenagers? Or is it all just
Hollywood and rock and roll?

I remember reading at the time that one of the
shooters had tried to enlist to fight the real war a
week before he acted out his war in real life at
Columbine. I talked about this in the press at the
time. And curiously, no one accused me of being
unpatriotic for criticizing Clinton. In fact, the same
radio patriots that call us traitors today engaged in
daily personal attacks on their president during the
war in Kosovo.

Today, prominent politicians who have decried violence
in movies -- the "Blame Hollywooders," if you will --
recently voted to give our current president the power
to unleash real violence in our current war. They want
us to stop the fictional violence but are okay with
the real kind.

And these same people that tolerate the real violence
of war don't want to see the result of it on the
nightly news. Unlike the rest of the world, our news
coverage of this war remains sanitized, without a
glimpse of the blood and gore inflicted upon our
soldiers or the women and children in Iraq. Violence
as a concept, an abstraction -- it's very strange.

As we applaud the hard-edged realism of the opening
battle scene of "Saving Private Ryan," we cringe at
the thought of seeing the same on the nightly news. We
are told it would be pornographic. We want no part of
reality in real life. We demand that war be
painstakingly realized on the screen, but that war
remain imagined and conceptualized in real life.

And in the midst of all this madness, where is the
political opposition? Where have all the Democrats
gone? Long time passing, long time ago. (Applause.)
With apologies to Robert Byrd, I have to say it is
pretty embarrassing to live in a country where a
five-foot- one comedian has more guts than most
politicians. (Applause.) We need leaders, not
pragmatists that cower before the spin zones of former
entertainment journalists. We need leaders who can
understand the Constitution, congressman who don't in
a moment of fear abdicate their most important power,
the right to declare war to the executive branch. And,
please, can we please stop the congressional sing-a-
longs? (Laughter.)

In this time when a citizenry applauds the liberation
of a country as it lives in fear of its own freedom,
when an administration official releases an attack ad
questioning the patriotism of a legless Vietnam
veteran running for Congress, when people all over the
country fear reprisal if they use their right to free
speech, it is time to get angry. It is time to get
fierce. And it doesn't take much to shift the tide. My
11-year-old nephew, mentioned earlier, a shy kid who
never talks in class, stood up to his history teacher
who was questioning Susan's patriotism. "That's my
aunt you're talking about. Stop it." And the stunned
teacher backtracks and began stammering compliments in
embarrassment.

Sportswriters across the country reacted with such
overwhelming fury at the Hall of Fame that the
president of the Hall admitted he made a mistake and
Major League Baseball disavowed any connection to the
actions of the Hall's president. A bully can be
stopped, and so can a mob. It takes one person with
the courage and a resolute voice.

The journalists in this country can battle back at
those who would rewrite our Constitution in Patriot
Act II, or "Patriot, The Sequel," as we would call it
in Hollywood. We are counting on you to star in that
movie. Journalists can insist that they not be used as
publicists by this administration. (Applause.) The
next White House correspondent to be called on by Ari
Fleischer should defer their question to the back of
the room, to the banished journalist du jour.
(Applause.) And any instance of intimidation to free
speech should be battled against. Any acquiescence or
intimidation at this point will only lead to more
intimidation. You have, whether you like it or not, an
awesome responsibility and an awesome power: the fate
of discourse, the health of this republic is in your
hands, whether you write on the left or the right.
This is your time, and the destiny you have chosen.

We lay the continuance of our democracy on your desks,
and count on your pens to be mightier. Millions are
watching and waiting in mute frustration and hope -
hoping for someone to defend the spirit and letter of
our Constitution, and to defy the intimidation that is
visited upon us daily in the name of national security
and warped notions of patriotism.

Our ability to disagree, and our inherent right to
question our leaders and criticize their actions
define who we are. To allow those rights to be taken
away out of fear, to punish people for their beliefs,
to limit access in the news media to differing
opinions is to acknowledge our democracy's defeat.
These are challenging times. There is a wave of hate
that seeks to divide us -- right and left, pro-war and
anti-war. In the name of my 11-year-old nephew, and
all the other unreported victims of this hostile and
unproductive environment of fear, let us try to find
our common ground as a nation. Let us celebrate this
grand and glorious experiment that has survived for
227 years. To do so we must honor and fight vigilantly
for the things that unite us -- like freedom, the
First Amendment and, yes, baseball. (Applause.)