We protest at Kansas City nuclear weapons plant on Memorial Day in the name of peace

Nonviolently, several score in numbers, we will gather again for the 10th year in a row this Memorial Day at the Kansas City nuclear weapons manufacturing plant to protest its operation, its intent and its senseless misuse of resources.

We are your neighbors. Our ranks might seem thin to some of you, but our vision is bold. We are part of a growing worldwide movement to rid our world of weapons of indiscriminate and mass destruction.

We will come face to face with Kansas City police and guards just before noon on Memorial Day after walking one mile to the plant.

Five of us will risk arrest by crossing a line onto private property. These five will cross a line at the foot of the sprawling complex at the southern edge of the city. They will likely be arrested in front of the plant that produces 85% of all the non-nuclear components that make up the U.S. nuclear stockpile — and is euphemistically named a “National Security Campus.”

Once arrested and handcuffed, they will be booked on site pending the setting of a trial date. We admittedly break a civil law to maintain the laws we hold to be of a higher moral order.

Join us if you like, but do not bring predetermined so-called “tribal” notions to the protest. Police and protesters, we are all friendly. We respect one another. Our protests, under the aegis of PeaceWorks Kansas City, are entirely nonviolent. We respect the dignity of every person, starting with those closest to us at the moment of protest, the police and security officials we face only feet away.

PeaceWorks Kansas City both preaches and models nonviolence. Co-Chair Henry Stoever, a well-known Kansas City attorney, explains to police officials just what to expect. He and they want to avoid surprises and possible violence. Over the years, he has worked most closely with Kansas City Police Sgt. Craig Hope, who oversees the southern area of the city, to explain each move in the program.

“They’re really respectful people,” Hope said to me in a recent phone call. “Everyone is friendly. They intentionally do not go limp when we arrest them so they will not hurt our backs. … We take good care of them and they take good care of us.”

On a particularly hot day, several years back, the assembled police passed out water bottles to the protesters to assure they would be adequately hydrated.

Asked why he returns year after year to protest, Stoever called the plant, which operates on a $1 billion annual budget and is managed by Honeywell, a “monstrous” operation.

Stoever has long been a conscientious objector to all wars. He says he will “cross the line” again this year, for the fourth time, as a matter of conscience. “I see our action as an intervention in a very dangerous situation.”

Christian Brother Louis Rodemann, who for decades fed the homeless at Holy Family Catholic Worker House in midtown Kansas City, said he just recently decided he would be arrested this year during the protest for the forth time by “crossing the line.” It was the feast of Pentecost that moved him to decide. The followers of Jesus were “spirited” on Pentecost to be brave and courageous and to speak out. He took the lead from them.

Said Rodemann: “Walking with me will be every one of the thousands of guests who were ever welcomed into Holy Family Catholic Worker House through its 44-year history — guests who could come in from their poverty, brokenness and loneliness and be treated with the dignity of a human person they had stopped dreaming and hoping they could become; to get a glimpse, if just for an hour, of the peace and wholeness they justly deserved as a way of life. For making this glimpse just one step closer to reality, I will step over that line one more time.”

This story was originally published May 30, 2021 at 5:00 AM with the headline "We protest at Kansas City nuclear weapons plant on Memorial Day in the name of peace."