Lab Rats
by pegasus

To celebrate the birth anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King, five of us refused to pay an alleged mandatory $73 fee to the court which defends the international crimes being committed at Los Alamos nuclear weapons lab. Instead, we each donated $73 to a Native American environmental justice group that works for goodness in northern New Mexico.

Within weeks, we heard the news that a warrant had been signed for our contempt of court, requiring us to spend four nights in the jail that should be holding laboratory criminals, at a cost to the county of $200 per person.

The Los Alamos County Jail is a laboratory jail in two ways. The first is that this modern high-tech cage keeps people from bothering the National Laboratory. The second is that we, as inmates, were "lab rats." We could constantly be observed via cameras, a wall microphone, and heavy glass windows. We generally submitted to being fed jail food, except for one of us who fasted.

Furthermore, we lived in a forced community with other disempowered folks. Our cohabitants were people you might find in any local jail nationwide, who did not consciously choose their internments, but were nevertheless in there because of the filthy rotten system.

On my fourth and final morning in this fancy laboratory cage, I was already sick of being interned and more than ready for the miracle of my freedom. To symbolically foreshadow and spiritually encourage an on-time release, I packed up my bedding rather than making my bed neatly, as required.

The meal cart was two cells away, coming towards us, along with the Correctional Officer who would check if our beds were made, and who maybe didn't know I was scheduled for release in six hours.

An older cellmate, who was in jail for selling drugs to Laboratory employees and had been in and out of jail since his teen years, commanded me to make my bed. Or, he informed me, he would immediately beat me up. In seeking to expedite my own freedom, my noncooperation with the jail system was apparently greasing the skids for LESS freedom for him. Still, I responded, "No."

During our four days together, my cellmate had told me stories of how in the regular world--outside of jail--he could get his way through threats of violence. Manipulating people into the behavior he wanted was a tactic he had used successfully throughout his adult life. I had already reflected on how that technique was in synchronicity with the National Laboratory's mission: to demonstrate the power of nuclear weapons and imply, or threaten, their use against any country hesitating to obey the United State's commands.

"Peace through strength" was the mantra of the national government during the Cold War. It means "Non-War in the Homeland through Implication of Violent Power Over Others". All people in jail participate in this system, which is NOT based on the inner peace, serenity, and joy that proceed from real inner strength.

During the next 35 seconds, I weighed the harm of being attacked against the harm of obeying a system that requires us to behave in certain ways simply to receive certain benefits from the authorities. I wanted more clarity for both of us, so I asked, "Will you be happier if I make my bed?" He said, "Yes." I then told him that my desire to increase his happiness motivated me to make the bed, and did so seconds before the guard arrived.

Ten minutes later, he apologized. We could both feel that our relationship had been soured during those minutes. I still wonder: was the apology for offering such a BLUNT threat of violence? Was it for having to threaten me at all? Was he feeling embarrassed for being afraid of more punishment from the jailers? Was he apologizing on behalf of a sick system?

People, whether inside and outside jail, are regularly coerced into behavior that may or may not be in unison with their inner bearings. Many have yet to find their internal compass or trajectory. We need to keep challenging each other so that goodness may come to fruition.