

Above: One of the first, handmade buttons
supporting Archbishop Hunthausen (1981). From the collection
of Joanna Ryan. Below: Archbishop
Hunthausen’s 1040 pamphlet for 1985, the fourth year he withheld part of
his income tax in protest against the arms race. Courtesy of the
Archives of the Archdiocese of Seattle.
Archbishop Raymond Hunthausen never forgot where he was on August 6,
1945. He was sitting on the grass outside St. Edward’s Seminary in
Kenmore, Washington, where he was studying for the priesthood. The sound
of the radio wafted through an open window. Suddenly, a news reporter’s
voice broke through the regular program: the United States had dropped
the atom bomb on Hiroshima, a city of about 250,000 inhabitants. The
bomb ended the war, but at great cost: 140,000 were killed in Hiroshima,
another 80,000 three days later in Nagasaki. “From that moment on,
I could never accept the bomb,” Hunthausen later said. “I could
never accept its use again.”
But for Hunthausen, who would become one of the most prominent voices
against the arms race, it was not an instantaneous conversion. His
thinking grew and deepened over time, especially through his experience
of the Second Vatican Council, and his years as Bishop of Helena,
Montana, and then, in 1975, as Archbishop of Seattle. When he
arrived in Seattle, he had no idea that, two years before, the Navy had
designated Bangor on Hood Canal the home for the Trident Fleet of
nuclear submarines. Slowly but surely, he felt called to respond
to the situation, and to join the growing protests against the presence
of nuclear weapons in the diocese.
On June 12, 1981, Archbishop Hunthausen was invited to deliver the
keynote address for the annual Pacific Northwest Synod of Lutherans at
Pacific Lutheran University. The topic was to be “Faith and
Disarmament.” At first he intended to say what he later described as
“the same old things.” But after talking with peace activists Jim
Douglass and Charlie Meconis, Hunthausen felt he needed to speak out
more strongly. His address minced no words: “I say with deep
consciousness of these words that Trident is the Auschwitz of Puget
Sound.” And he suggested that something more was needed than protests
and demonstrations. “Our paralyzed political process needs that
catalyst of nonviolent action based on faith. We have to refuse to give
incense—in our day, tax dollars—to our nuclear idol. On April 15,
we can vote for unilateral disarmament with our lives. Form 1040 is the
place where the Pentagon enters all of our lives, and asks our
unthinking cooperation with the idol of nuclear destruction.”
Hunthausen suggested that if five or ten thousand, or a quarter of a
million Washington State residents withheld a portion of their income,
the government would take notice. Never a fiery orator, Hunthausen
delivered this stunning message in his usual gentle and soft-spoken
manner.
This speech—which Father Michael G. Ryan, the Archbishop’s chancellor
and vicar general, describes as “the shot heard round the world”—created
a sensation. It made front-page news the next day, and in subsequent
weeks more than 800 invitations for Archbishop Hunthausen to speak
poured in from around the country and the world. Responses to the
Archbishop were sharply divided. Peace activist Daniel Berrigan
described him as “one of the modern visionaries of our history,” while
Secretary of the Navy John Lehman called his remarks “ignorant and
repugnant.” The Seattle Times editorial pages were filled with
letters. “To believe that Russia can be trusted while we
unilaterally disarm our nuclear weapons, as does Rev. Hunthausen, is in
itself immoral,” said one man in a letter to the editor. “Honest
taxpayers have no choice but to demand his arrest and prosecution.”
Others supported him, even if they did not follow him in withholding
their own income taxes: “The ‘peace’ and ‘security’ that we
maintain with our arsenals are delusions,” wrote a Seattle couple.
Parishes made “I Love Hunthausen” buttons which were distributed widely
(and are still treasured by many!). Other Catholics signed a petition
entitled “Catholic Parishioner’s Pledge to the I.R.S.” in which they
promised to pay their taxes, and rejected Hunthausen as the leader of
the local Church: “we will respond only to Archbishop Connolly as our
Roman Catholic leader.”
Archbishop Hunthausen never believed that his actions would create
such a storm of controversy. Reluctant though he was to be dragged
into the limelight, he did not back away from his positions. Hunthausen
was not naïve—he knew that unilateral disarmament was risky, but he
believed that it was no riskier than continued nuclear proliferation. In
response to his critics, he insisted that his civil disobedience was not
politically motivated. “I am convinced that as Christian people we
cannot live with this and profess to be people of Christ…. It is not an
arbitrary violation of law. It is a calling to recognize that God says
something of a higher nature to us.”
Long after the newspapers had moved on to other headlines, Archbishop
Hunthausen quietly continued his civil disobedience. In a 1986
letter to the IRS, he wrote, “as I have indicated in previous
correspondence with your office I cannot in conscience pay the full
amount of Income Tax owing. I have enclosed a check in payment of the
balance.” In an interview, he said, “I can't, I just cannot,
identify this arms race or the awesome nature of these weapons with the
God l know and love."
Corinna Laughlin, Pastoral Assistant for Liturgy
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