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I'm assuming readers already know the reason for this action and the anti-global-corporate-hegemony movement in general, so I will not be discussing that here.
First, some links:This document will be a mixture of
I will be attempting to mix these while maintaining clear demarcation between factual accounting and various degrees of subjectivity. Hopefully this experiment will be a less-than-total failure.
I arrived at the Convergence Center at about 9 AM on Friday 4/14/2000. It was already crowded, with a mixture of what appeared to be predominantly college-age people but with substantial participation by the older age groups. I would classify the older people, such as myself (40 as we speak), as being mostly casually dressed. Definitely not suit-country. Mostly but not entirely white, possibly even mostly of Northern European extraction. One particularly noteworthy exception: a neighbor, R., probably Jamaican, who was a tireless worker, always fun to be around, and generally uplifting.
White leftist activists have been flaggelating themselves for at least the twenty-odd years of my desultory involvement over the high albedo of our demographics, which I think serves no purpose other than lending support to our explosive friend Ted "Unabomber" Kaczynski's theory of Oversocialisation . [hey, Bill Joy cited him, so I can too.] As long as we are not creating barriers, and making a reasonable attempt to be inclusive, that would seem to be adequate. People will do what they want. Blacks almost entirely ignored the Central America movement, but turned out in force when it had a joint action A26-27 of 1987 with the Anti-Apartheid movement. DC is a mostly black city, of which many of the non-pallid citizens appear to be substantially more well-funded than the protest community. It is difficult to imagine that fear of the mostly-black police kept these confident, well-turned-out folks from our midst, in what is clearly their city. For us to fret about our mostly-whiteness in the absence of any barriers to more colorful participation implies a certain patronising attitude. If we have something of interest, people will come if they want to.
The younger people would probably be mostly classifiable as activist-enviro-types, who have no definable plumage other than casual clothes, preferably sidewalk-acquisitions (as are my favorites).
There was a presence of People In Black, who seemed to aggregate together, and to be somewhat of a separate minority, and be entirely 20-something or less. They did not seem to be highly represented in the ongoing activities, such as cooking and desk-staffing.
I have seen a posting on IndyMedia by one Black Bloc member who was active in the kitchen and says that a number of others were also, including people in Food Not Bombs, a group which I understand to be of high repute in the activist community. Clearly these people were not wearing all-black clothing and masks while cooking. The People In Black I refer to above were gaggles of young, perhaps quite young, people hanging about in a few little groups out in the alley and street, possibly more Black ā la mode rather than by politics. Given that a much younger and more fashionable activist from RI with good Wobbly connections also didn't know who or what the Black Bloc was and formed a somewhat negative opinion of them, I think I can be forgiven for having a hard time sorting out the committed political and non-violent Black Bloc members from the looks-like-artists crowd and whoever was doing the limited amount of smashing and spray-painting.
There is also an Indymedia comment alleging that the Black Bloc was mostly from Northern California. There might thus be an element of culture clash involved. I haven't been on the West Coast since 1987, one of the reasons being that I prefer East Coast culture. The California style strikes me as somewhat edgy, violent, exaggerated and arrogant; they are welcome to think we are dull, conservative, whatever. Perhaps a bunch of people in a sort of uniform planning pitched battle with the cops is the norm these days in the Bay Area, but it isn't as far as I am aware the way we do things on this coast, even in New York City. Perhaps Californians were shocked to note that our East Coast cops weren't as quick to go for the teargas and such as they seem to be out there. I prefer it that way.
Apologies to anyone offended by this washing of our collective linen in public. This discussion is already floating around on the web at Indymedia and via email. One would expect it is also being monitored by our capable friends at the FBI. In the twenty-odd years I've been involved in this sort of thing, there have always been groups like Young Spartacus League and the Maoist hacks I lampoon below hanging about the edges, often giving every appearance of advocating the violent overthrow of the United States government, and also of being agents of a foreign power [again, see below]. Given this, the Bureau would actually be remiss its constituted duties was it not interested in such activities. Of course, given the FBI COINTELPRO history, one wonders exactly what their role may be at this point; I always wondered if Young Spartacus was an FBI guy, a BATF guy, a CIA guy and a KGB guy all talking shop.
Back to our story. The Convergence Center was already crowded when I got there, and continued to increase in density. One had to keep moving, since anywhere one stood in the small space was in the way.
Fortunately for me, there was a little nook demarcated where someone was fixing bikes. This is something I know something about, so I promptly joined in and felt I had arrived. Perhaps the people milling about in the dense crowd outside our little field-expedient bike-shop liked being where they were, but Joe and I agreed that we were real happy to be where we were instead of out there. I guess Joe doesn't do crowds either.
So I just stayed in there fixing bikes until about 2 PM. I got interviewed by French TV 2 and MTV. Joe talked to CSPAN. I think we had another one or two stop by. I got about say five bikes ride-able, and also had the honor of fixing Sprout's bike. I had earlier in the week chanced upon CSPAN [gotta luv'em!] coverage of Sprout getting arrested at a banner-hang at the WB earlier in the week. They didn't show the arrest, but she was on a cell-phone while it was going on, which was quite amusing.
As it happens, the bike-repair turned out to be a no-op, because our opposition raided the Convergence Center on Saturday and kept a bunch of stuff, including the bikes.
In fact I should take this opportunity to thank our generally gracious
host, Chief Ramsey, whose Boys and Girls in Blue (and Kevlar and gas masks
and so forth), for probably unwittingly making one of the best jokes of
this whole campaign by holding up two red chili peppers:
On Tuesday, during the tear-down of the Convergence center, I found on the floor of the erstwhile kitchen a suspicious-looking pepper, possibly one of the very same the Chief displayed (and which I should have saved for posterity) and was thus enabled to attempt (hopefully with some success) to amuse my co-deconstructors during our pizza lunch by holding aloft said Exhibit B and announcing loudly that I was Shocked! Shocked! to see this clear evidence that the charges leveled against us by the Chief were not the mere flaccid, scurrilous and slanderous confabulations that any person competent to breathe out after breathing in might otherwise have taken them to be.
But I get ahead of my story. As I was saying, I left the Convergence Space at about 2 pm, needing to collect my baggage from Amtrak and start considering where I would spend the night, not to mention eat something. I wandered about and made some calls. The people with the boat were not reachable.
My initial impression of the Black Bloc was actually quite negative. There were various reasons for this, and I will undertake a full analysis further on, but I would like at this point to make some comments. I just had discussions with two individuals who actually know each other and who were both in the RI delegation. One was Black Bloc, and also clearly a dedicated and well-intentioned individual, rather than a kid who wanted to smash stuff. Another was not Black Bloc, but just as dedicated and well-intentioned. The one who was not Black Bloc formed a negative impression of them, finding them threatening in manner and commenting that they wouldn't talk to her. The one who was Black Bloc explained that the Black Bloc/RACB was in fact the 'Flying Squadron' intended to be a sort of Rapid Reaction Force in cases of imminent or ongoing police brutality, and that they were people who intended to draw police attacks to themselves and away from those less prepared for such engagements. I have been finding out more about the extent and violence of the police brutality and repression in Seattle, and in light of that State Terrorism having one or more Flying Squadrons of individuals who had already been tried by fire and were ready for more makes sense.
Unfortunately this was never made clear to the rest of us. The Black Bloc appears to have constituted itself as a sort of Revolutionary Vanguard without apprising 'The Masses' of this situation; in fact, I was clearly (see above) not the only one who formed the impression that the Black Bloc was quite separate from the rest of us, wanted nothing to do with us, and had an agenda of its own apart from ours. "What we [had] here [was] a failure to communicate".
I am presently involved in an ongoing discussion with several Black Bloc members, who are people of character, commitment and intelligence. I plan on writing a constructive critique of the Black Bloc, hoping that some changes in Bloc tactics, and better communication between the Black Bloc and the larger action, might avoid the problems and negative impressions that developed during A16.
I freely confess I did nothing much of note on Saturday. Mostly I accompanied our Den Mother on a shopping expedition; with considerable effort, one could say I was occupied with logistics. We saw news coverage of the raid on the Convergence Center in some crab-shack in Virginia, including the aforementioned humorous quips (Chief Ramsey can tell real howlers without cracking a grin) about petrol bombs and home-made pepper spray.
By coincidence of colocation, I had some contact with individuals from the [insert favorite superlatives] Ruckus Society, whose doings will in years hence be recounted among the Great Deeds of Yore, when Giants will be said to have walked the earth and so forth. I can't say enough good about these people, but could easily say too much, and in any case this rambling scandal-sheet of a screed is an unworthy place to speak much about such as these. Allow this worthless scribe merely to conjecture that should we collectively prove to have more than a short-term future, their name will be writ large in the Great Epics chronicling why the future came to pass with as opposed to without us still present in it.Said redoubtable worthies did in the inscrutable sagacity of their resourcefulness manage to procure some number of Trusty Steeds to replace those stolen from us in the course of the Convergence Center raid by those who were no doubt doing their best to Serve and Protect us, having already, as was solemnly announced, saved at least three hundred of us from certain death by fire, given the deployment of propane stoves 'indoors', insofar as with considerable latitude an open garage bay can be so considered. Further, for reasons beyond the unknown and well into the unknowable, did they verily see fit to entrust one such Noble Mount into the unclean hands of this scurrilous scandal-monger, no doubt explaining this inexplicable lapse after the fact in the only way possible, viz:
"Mistakes Were Made" --President Bill
Ahhh, now on to the meat of the matter! Once More Unto The Breach, By God! "I Love the Smell of [Teargas] in the Morning... The Smell of... Victory!" Fat Elvis and Fat Captain Kirk deciding the Fate of the Free World by duking it out like ancient drunks in some piss-reeking alley, with Jesus and the Pope fire-hosing them with Holy Water in a valiant but vain attempt to separate them as one would Mad Dogs or English Football Fans, while Satan stands off to the side, giggling and muttering advice about Tech Stocks, seeming quite overcome by the turn of events... The Horror! The Horror!!!! "I Feel Mean, I Feel OK! I'm Charged Up... Electricity!" By God, the rest of you can go home. Me'n Chief Ramsey'll settle this thing once and for all! Give us each one o' them thar black Urban Assault Vehicles and cut us loose out at White Sands Missile Range! After much skirmishing and roaring of engines, we'll pelt each other with flowers until we both declare victory and retire to a pub.
Which, despite amusingly unconstitutional sallies like the raid of the Convergence Center, the clearly unconstitutional mass arrest of some 600 people on Saturday just to get them off the streets, no doubt with the hope that key individuals could be scooped up in these early raids, the gratuitously unconstitutional detention, while manacled, without charge, trial, food, water, access to bathrooms or counsel, of something approaching 1500 people, seems to be at least one of the many aspects of what happened overall.
And so it came to pass that on the day appointed by the gods for battle to be joined, Aurora the Rosy-Fingered Dawn opened her hand upon the Wine-Dark Sea, and the wind did rise and the sails brightly billowed, brave warriors did gird their loins and with much clashing of sword against shield and neighing of horse and stomping of hoof and glinting of sun on golden helm go forth and wage Most Holy War against the Legions of Death, bearing before them the standard of the Lord of Hosts but keeping the Holy Hand Grenade prudently close at hand, in case there should be need to beseech the Lord in His Infinite Mercy to smite his enemies therewith and thereby cause them to snuff it.
All of which happened in some other time and place, but not here, where the morning brought rain and rumor of rain and cool weather, and the Wine-Dark Sea was as usual quite some distance away.
And so it was that I found myself, at perhaps about 9 AM (this comfortably late hour being determined not by my own natural indolence but by the time of availability of Trusty Steeds) that I found myself peddling with grim determination a many-sizes-too-small bike that was surprisingly functional given pretty much everything about it towards the Rockets' Red Glare and so forth. It turned out there was only one bike available, which I took only because my most estimable young co-conspirator from Vermont wanted to stay on foot for family reasons. I entered the AO ('Area of Operations' for those of you not schooled in MA [Military Acronyms]) in the vicinity of 14th and Pennsylvania. I had not had the Bike Recon [my term] or Bike Scout or Bike whatever training, so I had to figure things out on the fly, which wasn't hard. Eventually I came across Elliot, who seemed to be in charge of the Official Bike Scout thing, and asked for directions. He was less than helpful, and I eventually decided that he didn't like me and that the feeling was mutual. As it happens, when I left this immediate area, I saw nothing further of Elliot, nor indeed of many other Bike Recon people. Apparently they spent all of A16 in this sector of what was a sprawling perimeter, extending from about E St. as far North as at least I St., and from about 14th St at least as far West as 21st St. I assume they were attached to the Black Bloc Squad in that sector, which I also saw no more of once I left it.
I shed no tears upon leaving Elliot's group and the Black Bloc in that sector behind. At this point, I didn't know what the Black Bloc was, let alone have preconceived notions about them. What I did see was a large mass of people in a sort of uniform (or perhaps they were just artists?), who unlike all the other protesters outside of immediate teargas threat kept their faces masked at all times, and who seemed to have the esprit de corps and martial bearing of a guerrilla squadron rather than non-violent protesters. To be fair, they were expecting a Seattle-style orgy of State Terrorism which never materialised, thanks to the political acumen of the Mayor and the Chief. Still, had I gotten trapped between them and DC's Finest, I would have had to waste precious seconds deciding which I should run away from faster. Seriously, I rode busses in Nicaragua in '84 with Sandinistas carrying automatic rifles on their way to or from the front, where they were fighting the Contra Terror which was a wholly-owned subsidiary of This Great Nation of ours, and I never felt menaced, and I've got pictures to prove it. Believe it or not, it is possible to wear Camo clothing, hold a locked and probably loaded automatic rifle, and be non-threatening. I guess it's a matter of attitude. The Black Bloc in this area seemed to be at least ready for a fight, and they also seemed, along with Elliot, to want nothing to do with anyone who wasn't in their crowd.
I milled around in the area, approaching people who seemed to be focalisers and asking them if they had any comm or recon needs. Mostly people didn't; this area was being well-covered by the official Bike Scouts. After some time at this, I saw the Black Bloc proceeding northwards while carrying a fence, and shortly after saw a cloud of tear-gas. My natural inclinations coincided nicely with what I perceived as my job-description: I sped away from the FEBA ("Forward Edge of the Battle Area") and informed people in the vicinity of what was happening at 14th and I.
That situation seemed to resolve quickly, and the area became quieter. I decided to start riding the perimeter. I headed West, and encountered people at maybe 16th and H who were bored and lonely, having sparse numbers to defend a major intersection. That was one aspect of the long front lines; battle could be joined at one intersection, while people a few blocks away knew nothing of it and saw no action all day. I headed back East and informed people in heavily-staffed areas of the weak line to the West, and to my satisfaction saw reinforcements heading that way when I headed West again. That was about the last I saw of other bike scouts, except for one intrepid individual who on Monday in a fit of high spirits was seen on national television to hurl himself in front of an oncoming police car, and who was also like me an unofficial bike scout. It seemed like we pretty much had the entire Western Theatre of Operations to ourselves, and this is where I began to feel genuinely useful. I sped about in a generally counterclockwise fashion, checking in with the spokes at the blockade points, giving them an accounting of what news I had and asking them if they had any bike recon needs. I think about all I did was act as Town Crier until I reached the area of the South-Western terminus of our perimeter, which joined the permitted rally at the Ellipse at 17th and E.
The first real action I came across was at about 18th and G, I think. A car had appeared and was attempting to drive thru the protesters. I sped back up the line, summoning legal observers and medics and so forth. I then sped back to find the situation had been resolved, and headed back to cancel the alert. Situations developed and dissipated rapidly.
At 17th and E., a call went up that buses were evading the perimeter. It was then about 12 Noon or so, and the busses were probably leaving, so on reflection there would seem to have been little point in attempting to impede their progress, but we were all in the Fog of Peaceful Protest, and I was discharging my duties as I saw them, which were primarily to facilitate communications. The folks at 17th and E. called for reinforcements, having decided to try to hold and extend the area, and I passed on the call to quieter areas. At the same time, intersections all the way up to say 19th and G lit up: at all of them, the police, who were holding the same lines we were, on the other side of their barricades, donned gas masks and metaphorically fixed bayonets. It looked at one point, maybe at about 1 PM, like a major breakout was in progress at at least four intersections from 17th and E heading North and West: there was much charging of motorcycles, circling of helicopter, massing of gas-masked troopers, etc., and I was quite busy during this period, but that crescendo apparently marked the end of action for the day. The lines held, both sides resumed more relaxed attitudes in what was by then quite noticeable heat, and I shaded up under a tree for a bit.
Eventually, on towards about about 2pm, the puppet parade, led by the Giant Sun-Face which I think was the signature image of the puppeteers, started approaching from the West, having I assume marched the whole perimeter. There was a bit of confusion about this at around 20th and G, as the spoke wanted to hold the intersection and not be swept along by the parade. I helped smooth this over, having to briefly halt the parade while this was clarified, but it all worked out. The parade hung a right there, and then eventually merged with the marching groups from the Ellipse, making an impressively large parade that headed back in a clockwise direction. This marked the end of festivities/hostilities for the day; it was consensed to declare victory and leave the blockade lines by 3 pm, tho' one poor group, in a situation reminiscent of those Japanese soldiers who lived in a cave on some South Pacific Isle for some decades, apparently never got the word, or decided to hang tough, and were still at their posts some hours later, when they were finally apprised of the changed situation.
Once it was clear that we were done for the day, I turned the bike over to my colleague from Vermont and made my way towards basecamp, catching site on the way of what appeared to be Sprout ambling along while playing the fiddle along with a fellow who was playing some other stringed instrument. I wish I had a picture of that: less that two hours earlier, we were all bracing for an all-out assault, and here was Sprout and her friend, strolling along on a pleasant late afternoon, picking a tune as they went. Able to Scale Tall Buildings, address the World Media, and pick tunes! She and my Dharma-companion from Vermont were by no means the only young people to impress and surprise me in various ways. There is hope: despite the media version of reality, not all capable twenty-somethings are dotcom millionaire wannabees.
Blue Monday dawned rainy and was of a mood to continue in that vein. Those more dedicated than this shirking scribbler started downtown somewhat earlier than I, which apparently worked to their disadvantage;
I and my worthy colleague from the People's Republic of Vermont made our way in a generally downtownwardly direction, arriving eventually at the Ellipse. I found the Sun Puppet in motion, and approached it just as a volunteer was needed to help it on its way; thus it was that I was entrusted with trying to keep the 'Globalize' portion of the 'Globalize Liberation' banner visible. Given the drear conditions, I suspect even our Police minders found the Sun Puppet somewhat warming.
We made our way North up what I think was 15th St.; please correct me if I'm wrong about this. We were being herded from behind by the cops, and made our way into what I think was McPherson Square, which appeared to be a trap. It seemed very much like we were all for it at that point. I discussed this fact with various others, including R., who had just in a fit of high spirits hurled himself in front of a cop car, which earned him a pepper-spraying and rough removal, not to mention national media coverage, but not arrest. I told him he had more guts than I did, and I admired the heck out of him. We agreed that the situation looked grim; I think we agreed that we were not exactly eager to get arrested, but that it looked like a foregone conclusion at that point. One had a sense of insight into the World of Goldfish about then.
I looked around for sign of anyone I knew but found none, and proceeded to amble as nonchalantly as possible about the perimeter. Approaching what was 15th and K if I have my squares right, something else and K if we were in Farragut Square instead, I dropped into the wake of a very suit-looking woman and sort of surfed East on K St. past a whole line of as-yet-empty arrest-busses. Others were wandering out also; apparently they left this opening by design. There were a few cops there but they seemed uninterested in me.
At that point I was at a bit of a loss. I had escaped arrest, at least for now, but the day was yet young, and I didn't want to just slither on back to basecamp quite yet. I wandered somewhat aimlessly, being careful not to aggregate with too many other obvious protesters (at that point only the suits were safe). I made my way back to the Ellipse, which seemed like a sensible assembly point and was to my understanding a legal place to exist at that point. There was a meeting going on, clearly dominated by a Black Bloc speaker. I was mostly interested in trying to find out if any of my associates were boxed in in the square, in jail, or whatever. As it happened, none of them were arrested, and they were all back at basecamp or out of town when I finally got back.
I came across someone I knew from RI who was trying to help a Mexican woman who would have spoken at the Monday Rally had it transpired, and whose purse was stolen, along with ID, money, plane-ticket, etc. Eventually we hooked her up with Smithsonian security, who seemed genuinely interested in being helpful, tho' the Park Police cop they summoned did not. They took over, and I wandered around some more. Much to my surprise, people were still marching, and I watched them make their way to Franklin Park. I stayed near the march, but not in it; I had gotten the definite impression that the cops had decided that now it was Their Streets instead of Our Streets, and were in a mood to prove it. While I was willing to risk arrest when there seemed some point in it, such as on Sunday, Monday seemed to me to be a somewhat desultory affair of no clear consequence, given especially that our numbers had dwindled to relative insignificance. After being boxed in in the square earlier, I proceeded to avoid arrest with great diligence short of leaving the area entirely. I could as it turned out stayed in the square and even continued marching, but as an arrest veteran who had been in the square later agreed, at the time I screwed on out of there, it looked like they wanted the whole bloody lot of us, which I was up for only if not given a choice.
Again by virtue of contact with the Ruckus worthies, I Heard the Call for help in the deconstruction of the Convergence Center, a job with little glory and also with little risk of arrest: perfect for this worthless scrawler of chicken-scratches. It was actually my favorite part of this whole adventure. I have found at the odd Rainbow Gathering [or perhaps the even one, seeing as they are all a bit odd?], that the people worth knowing there, in the estimation of this cowardly tale-bearer, are those who remain in the background, doing CALM, MASH, etc. The blowhards with the large sticks replete with many feathers and crystals are almost invariably men well past their prime doing their best to scam impressionable young Deadhead girls into what requires no description, and much to my disgust generally succeeding. This fact among many others explains why it has been nigh on a decade since last I set foot into the Rainbow Scene, and also why human nature is not better than it is, seeing that the utterly unscrupulous and despicable have considerable reproductive success. But that is of course another screed.
The teardown group had no burnouts with big sticks, but then they are generally long gone from one of the better parts of a Rainbow Gathering, which is the cleanup. Those who stick around for that are like the CALM, MASH, Kitchen and Shanti-Sena people those who labor quietly in the background, who are the invisible sine qua non of the whole thing. I felt I met a select group of people in the teardown group, and was privileged to be among them. Rennie was there, tireless and cheerful as ever. Nadine was leading the whole operation, and despite her advanced state of replication, was still going full-tilt towards the end, when I could have used another stiff jolt of coffee to get me out of zombie mode, but kept flogging myself along nonetheless. We had a 6 PM deadline to meet, and did so with flying colors. A fellow named K., in the Medical group, who is from the looks of him a skilled surgeon or somesuch, agreed with me that the whole thing was an example of a self-organising complex system, and that hopefully the NSA would keep the tapes they had no doubt made of our RT [Radio Traffic] and other comm chatter, since should our cause prevail, they would be of considerable historical interest.
Upon leaving the vacant Convergence Center at about 6 PM, my little slice of the DC Protest Pie was effectively cut. I ended up catching a train to New York City, which I spent Wednesday wandering around, watching the opening of trading on the NYSE and later having a most interesting discussion about globalisation and so forth with a Cuban-American floor trader smoking outside. I bummed a smoke from him [seems like plenty of traders smoke], offering him some change so as not to offend his avowedly capitalist principles. He was a man with a sense of humor, and declined the change but asked me for a light, declaring us thereby even. I was remarkably scruffy at that point, and told him I had just come from the DC protests and wondered if the issues we raised were discussed at all on the floor of the Stock Exchange. I give him high marks for even speaking to me, all things considered. He argued a pro-global-capitalist case quite well, as one would expect. It does in fact sound good on paper; the destruction of the environment, concentration of wealth and power, and subversion of any meaningful democratic process are among many embarrassing facts that give the lie to an otherwise-persuasive theory.
I went to an event here at AS220 which purported to be IMF/World Bank Protest Eye Witness Accounts....Sponsored by: International Action Center/National People's Campaign I only bother to mention it because it was such an annoying farce. It turned out to be the current local clique of pseudo/extreme leftist totalitarian apologists.
This tiresome bunch of hacks, the initials of which I never have been able to keep track of, have been hanging around the margins of the activist movement for about as long as I've been involved, resembling more than anything a bunch of bottom-of-the-barrel vampires sent over by Central Casting to some movie never really expected to make it past the cutting bench, leaping on anything pink let alone faintly red while feebly moaning about the glories of whatever vaguely Marxist mass-murderer takes their fancy (currently Chairman Mao), sucking dry whatever victim hasn't managed to outrun them (probably easier now that they've aged some, and their Great Leader has by no means bucked the national bloating trend). They resemble nothing more than a bunch of chicken-hawks hanging around a bus-station laying in wait for incoming college freshmen... One imagines they must get lucky from time to time, or they'd have dried up and blown away by now.
Their talk of course had little to do with A16, the IMF, or anything else of general interest. They made some allegations that they were there, one of them claiming to have been swept up in the A15 dragnet. I never saw any of them, which doesn't mean they weren't there, only that I was keeping better company. They in fact hijacked AS220 space under false pretenses, and in my opinion should never be allowed back. Their talk was mostly about the need to Defend China against all the current attacks against it, and about how great Chairman Mao and the Great Wall were, and how Happy all the children were when they visited China, and how China, while not perfect, was a true Worker's State and so forth. They might as well have been talking about Hitler and the Third Reich, for all I care. Der Fuhrer, he is so dynamic! Und the Streets are So Clean! I spoke up several times; when they were on about Self-Determination for China, I inquired about Self-Determination for Tibet, and was informed that the question-and-answer period would come later. I think in fact there was a ritual question or two, asked by one of these Stalinists of the other, right at the very end. I interrupted their solemn bootlicking a few more times, as did one or two Wobblies in the audience [which fortunately seemed to consist almost entirely of their henchmen, leaving untainted the minds of the young artists who frequent AS220]. I proudly wore and displayed my A16 T-shirt, which I did not buy but asked for and received after spending a good solid eight hours on the deconstruction of the Convergence Center, feeling that I had thus earned the right to wear it. I would very much have enjoyed bodily hurling these moneychangers from our little temple, but must instead content myself with metaphorically driving oaken stakes thru their Little Red Books.
I hope the irony of unregistered Foreign Agents of the Chinese Government talking about A16 will not escape my hypothetical audience. Much as our current system of government is an anemic mockery of a democracy, and is perhaps best described by my screed about Elvis and Captain Kirk above, the fact remains that we still have civil liberties, and had we tried anything even vaguely resembling A16 in the Great Worker's State of China, we'd have been machine-gunned en masse, and any survivors would spend the rest of their natural lives making clothing and footwear for sale in Wal-Mart and other purveyors of fine slave-produced merchandise.
Thus endeth my A16 accounting.
as220.org/jb/politics/ add your own comments Wait for the Constructive Critique. by Flint Jones 10:56am Tue May 9 '00 flint@mobtown.org As Jim mentions, his initial impression of the Black Bloc was negative. Before we get all indignant that he doesn't understand what is going on... or knee jerking and calling him some kind of patholigical pacifist liberal; I suggest you cut him a bit of slack. He's trying to understand what were about. Until recently, he'd not read the Revolutionary Anti-Capitalist Bloc call, nor had he participated in the spokescouncil, or knew that much about anarchist theory. He's learning. Some of his criticism are valueable, particularly that the Black Bloc wasn't doing enough to communicate with our fellow protestors (there were even Wobblies that didn't know what the Black Bloc was about). We need to make serious efforts for communication before, after and DURING demonstrations. Some aspects of the black block are likely to continue to vary... since wearing black is not an arrestable offense in NYC. Engage Jim and other black block critics on this forum, if you like, some positive things could come of it. www.mobtown.org Revolutionary Vanguard? by MaRK 12:36pm Tue May 9 '00 Basically, with all due respect, many of your observations come off as somewhat misinformed and a bit arrogant. For starters, you make mention of needing to sort out the "non-violent and politcally committed" elements within the black bloc "from the rest". Since when does one need to accept non-violence in order to prove their political worth and committment? And who are you to judge who is politcally committed, especially on the basis of a two-day demonstration and a simple difference in street tactics. Hard to believe, but after A16, a majority of black bloc participants returned to their own communities (which for most us, contrary to your strange claim, would not be nothern California) and resumed their local activism right where the left off before the weekend's demonstrations and actions. Violence or non-violence, I would think it would be a bit difficult to organize a few hundred people from all around the country (not to mention participants from Canada and Mexico who were also involved in the black bloc) within a tight mobilization of any sort (especially one where police violence was an expected likelihood) unless they were all extremely dedicated activists from the beginning. You also make some sort of claim that those of us from the Revolutionary Anti-Capitalist Bloc represented an unconsented, unaccountable "vanguard" within the A16 mobilization. Whether you know it or not, those of us who organized for an autonomous mobilization of anarchists and anti-authoritarian left-revolutionaries for A16 did so with the full knowledge of mainstream organizers, and maintained a high level of principled communication. We made our intentions very clear, and, though we had disagreements with some of the action guidelines (hence, the autonomous nature of our "bloc"), we remained very respectful and principled in our relationship to the larger mobilization. As to our role as a so-called "vanguard" within the demonstrations, I would have to disagree with you. Although I have absolutely no problem with the historical use of the word "vanguard" (which, essentially means a politically conscious group of activists), I am going to assume that your intended usage of this word is in the negative, Leninist sense that it has taken on. In this regard, it would be completely false. How was our action cluster fundementally operating any differently than any of the others? Basically, we organized ourselves within a framework of revolutionary anti-capitalist politics, and an embracement of militant tactics. Other clusters also had specific political and tactical frameworks in which they organized themselves. We made no pretense in looking to "lead" others, only to have an organized presense within the demonstrations. If others became radicalized by this presense, all the better. There are other organized entities within the anti-globalization movement who could more accurately be portrayed as looking to establish a "vanguard" position for themselves, however, anarchists are not one of them. ------MaRK