Danny Sjursen
Undercover patriots The faithful rally to cheer Trump, but Tulsa also highlights the rise in US military dissent
I
t was June 20 and we antiwar vets had travelled all the way to Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the midst of a pandemic to protest President Trump’s latest folly, an election 2020 rally where he was to parade his goods and pretend all was well with this country. We never planned to go inside the cavernous arena where that rally was to be held. I was part of our impromptu reconnaissance team that called an audible at the last moment. We suddenly decided to infiltrate not just the perimeter of that Tulsa rally, but the BOK Center itself. That meant I got a long, close look at the MAGA crowd there in what turned out to be a more than half-empty arena. Our boots-on-the-ground coalition of two national antiwar veteran organisations – About Face and Veterans for Peace (VFP) – had thrown together a risky direct action event in coordination with the local activists who invited us. We planned to climb the three main flagpoles around the arena and replace an Old Glory, an Oklahoma state flag, and a Tulsa one with Black Lives-themed banners. Only on arrival, we found our-
selves stymied by an eleventh-hour change in the security picture: new gates and unexpected police deployments. Hopping metal barriers and penetrating a sizable line of cops and National Guardsmen seemed to ensure a fruitless trip to jail, so into the under-attended indoor rally we went, to – successfully it turned out – find a backdoor route to those flagpoles.
O
nce inside, we had time to kill. While others in the group infiltrated and the flagpole climbers donned their gear, five of us – three white male ex-foot soldiers in America’s forever wars and two Native American women (one a vet herself) – took a breather in the largely empty upper deck of the rally. Nervous joking then ensued about the absurdity of wearing the Trump “camouflage” that had eased our entrance. My favourite disguise: a Hispanic ex-Marine buddy’s red-white-and-blue “BBQ, Beer, Freedom” tank top. The music irked me instantly. Much to the concern of the rest of the team, I’d brought a notebook along and was already furtively
18 ColdType | Mid-July 2020 | www.coldtype.net
scribbling. At one point, we listened sequentially to Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean, The Beatles’ Let It Be, and Queen’s We Are The Champions over the arena’s loudspeakers. I couldn't help but wonder how that black man of, let’s say, complicated sexual orientation, four outspoken British hippies, and a gay AIDs victim (Freddie Mercury) would feel about the way the Trump campaign had co-opted their songs. We can guess though,
