The peace movement seems to have gone 6 feet underground

THE question is being asked around town in print, on the air and in certain Westside bars where the cognoscenti gather to sip mango martinis: Whatever became of the peace movement?

Everywhere activists of a different persuasion are marching, singing, shouting or waving signs for their cause, while the antiwar people are nowhere to be seen.

Well, I guess that’s not entirely true, because they can be spotted at peace meetings and in small clusters on street corners looking world-weary and somber while holding placards that say “Give Peace a Chance” and other strident calls to action.

What we are seeing a lot of are those raising Cain against any prospect of criminalizing immigration. I don’t think they do a lot of meeting and discussing, but if they do, it culminates with hundreds of thousands of protesters on the street, which is what nervous politicians are seeing on TV. But no peace signs.

Even those concerned with the future of the environment gathered in decent numbers on Earth Day with garlands in their hair and bouquets of flowers in their hands to hurl angrily at anti-environmentalists from the other side of town should any of them show up at the pottery shows and open-air dance revues that are a part of the day.

With all that going on, the absence of any viable antiwar activity has become more noticeable. The inexistence of marchers and shouters can easily be mistaken for surrender by the war lovers, but that’s not true. I have it on good authority that the peace movement isn’t dead. It has just gone underground.

What better way to worry the hawks than to do nothing? It’s an escalation of passive resistance to utter inactivity, wherein those who once risked beatings and imprisonment on behalf of peace are now lying back on their hammocks under sunny skies and not even thinking about what’s going on in Iraq.

Architect of the new antiwar inertia is one Jeremy Sedate, said to be among the most relaxed and peaceful people on the planet. I found him sleeping under a loquat tree in the backyard of a Venice home with a copy of the book “Peace and Quiet” draped across his stomach. It is a recent sequel to Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” and the manifesto of America’s new peace activists.

Awakening slowly, Sedate laughed when I asked about the disappearance of the peace activists. “You mean peace IN-activists,” he said, yawning and stretching. “No more of that noisy stuff. From now on, we’re just going to chill out and drive the warmongers crazy wondering what we’re planning.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t they be surprised to learn that we aren’t planning anything?”

He introduced me to his wife, Serenity, and their children, Harmony, Accord and Tranquillity, who were leaving for a quiet afternoon in the country. Tran, you might recall, served eight years in federal prison for beating two FBI agents so severely that they had to be hospitalized.

“That was the business of the activists,” Sedate said. “In the new arena of inactivity, no one gets angry, no one gets arrested, and no one gets hurt. America will love us for it.” He patted his well-rounded belly. “Remember the days when I used to fast for peace? No more of that either! It’s pork chops and French fries from now on!”

“I’m confused,” I said, wearing my best addled-citizen look. “How is all of this going to stop the war?”

“Well,” he said, sitting up and smiling beatifically, “I’m not sure you’re ready for the technicalities of a well-planned non-maneuver, but I’ll try to simplify it: When the hawks in power begin to fear that we might be planning some sort of big preemptive emotional strike that’ll rock their world, they’ll fight back by copying our strategy and doing nothing too!”

“So nobody does anything and ... ?”

“The war dries up, the armies go home, the Middle East goes back to its normal form of chaos -- and we just keep on doing nothing. Don’t you see, boy, we turn out to be the unsung non-heroes of the day just by lying around, drinking cheap wine and strumming lyres.”

I’m not so sure Sedate is barking up the right tree. Truth is, he’s not barking at all. When I left him, he was staring at the sky making forms and faces out of the passing clouds and writing new slogans for the silent peace movement, such as “Don’t Honk if You Hate War.” His logo of the inactivist movement replaces the clenched fist with a carefully manicured hand holding a baby’s rattle.

We don’t have a lot of subtle people in D.C., so whether they will fall for Sedate’s strategy of non-activity is questionable. I prefer the old way, myself, of a million angry shouters at the White House fence and another million surrounding the hall of Congress and another million in each of America’s major cities.

There would be plenty of people left over to loll around with Sedate and listen to birds sing and reconfigure clouds and generally do nothing. It’s what they’ve been doing all along anyhow.

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Al Martinez’s column appears Mondays and Fridays.