It seems like you cannot open the newspaper these days without reading another reference to the Bush administration’s push to wage war in Iraq (see " Iraq Attack, " in News and Features). But as President Bush gears up his war-mongering pitch, at least one group of people won’t be swayed by the rhetoric: the September 11 Families for Peaceful Tomorrows, an organization of families whose loved ones were killed in the terrorist attacks.

This week, in conjunction with the Cambridge-based American Friends Service Committee, the group launched a nationwide campaign to counteract the Bushies’ propaganda — and to promote nonviolence as a solution to conflict. During the week of the September 11 anniversary, Peaceful Tomorrows members have gathered in such cities as Philadelphia, New York, and Chicago alongside victims of other terrorist acts around the world to raise awareness about the human costs of war and terrorism.

At the Boston event on the night of September 9, some 100 people packed Faneuil Hall to listen to eight speakers relay their firsthand experiences with violent conflicts in the Middle East, Afghanistan, the Philippines, and Iraq. The speakers, a diverse mix of men and women, young and old, native and foreign-born, appeared on a stage festooned with a banner that read: NO MORE VICTIMS ANYMORE. VOICES OF HOPE RENOUNCING TERROR AND WAR. The mood quickly turned forlorn, as wide-eyed audience members sat in silence, occasionally gasping at what they heard.

One of the more emotional speeches came from David Portori, a Peaceful Tomorrows member who drew audible breaths from the crowd when he spoke about the death of his older brother, Jim, in the World Trade Center attacks. On September 11, 2001, he said, his brother caught the 6:50 a.m. train in New Jersey and headed to Manhattan. By 8:45 a.m., however, he had an unexpected rendezvous with the hijacked American Airlines Flight 11, which plowed into the World Trade Center floor where he worked. Jim was 52, just three years away from early retirement, and he had had plans. " But somebody else had plans, too, " noted Portori, a tall, bespectacled man with angular features. Today, Portori said, he is left with two versions of his brother. The first is the person who entertained him as a child, who rescued him from bullies, who taught him how to cook. The second is the person whose bone fragments were found in a fresh landfill last March. " That version, " he avowed, " is a product of hate. " But it has not made him angry enough to want to inflict the same pain on civilians in Iraq or Afghanistan: " Victims’ families want justice, not more victims. "

Amirah Ali Lidasan, a Muslim Filipino who described herself as " both victim and witness " to the terrorism that now plagues her country, gave an equally emotional account. Lidasan, a slight, quiet woman wearing a traditional Muslim scarf, told the crowd how her husband and young son were among 100 Muslim Filipinos killed in US-led military operations following the dispatch of 1000 US soldiers to Mindanao in the wake of September 11. The US troops were deployed in the Philippines to rid the country of terrorists. But since innocent civilians are the ones dying, Lidasan said, she and her compatriots worry about the Bush administration’s motives. " As you commemorate the anniversary of September 11, " she concluded, " we’d like to remind you of all the victims of President Bush’s war on terrorism. "

But the speaker who moved audience members to tears happened to be one who was not directly affected by September 11: Miyoko Matsubara, a Japanese atomic-bomb survivor. When the US dropped the bomb on Hiroshima 57 years ago, Matsubara was 12, attending junior high school. On that fateful day, she and her best friend were outside when they heard the roar of planes overhead. " I looked up in the sky, " she recalled in an evocative, singsong voice. " I saw a big fire come from the plane. " Within seconds, her childhood friend had " simply disappeared. " Matsubara, meanwhile, watched her coat evaporate into thin air — leaving her skin red, bubbling, and " peeling off. " In an understatement, she added: " It was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. "

After an hour of listening to such stories, the Peaceful Tomorrows event left Bostonians speechless — but hopefully not for long. As one audience member summarized the sentiment: " Our silence reflects how overwhelming this all is. Yet we cannot afford to be overwhelmed. We must speak out against the Bush war, and we will. "