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Title: R2K Report Author: L.A. Kauffman Date: August 2000 Language: en Topics: protest, direct action, Free Radical, reportback Source: https://web.archive.org/web/20021205094835/http://www.free-radical.org/issue9.shtml Notes: Issue #9 of Free Radical
The police stole our message.
The Philadelphia police, that is, before the massive direct action -- or
should I say, "lawless rampage" -- outside the Republican National
Convention on August 1.
"Zero hour" for the protests, as folks called our start time, was set
for 3:30PM that day. At that moment, affinity groups would converge on
selected targets throughout Center City, blockading key streets and
intersections, while "flying squads" of other protesters would circulate
throughout the entire area, reinforcing blockades or creating temporary
ones of their own.
The tactical goal was to snarl as much traffic as possible for as long a
time as possible. The objective was to draw attention to issues of
criminal injustice, while inconveniencing convention delegates on their
way to the GOP's festival of corporate wealth.
A few hours before the appointed time, police surrounded the cavernous
West Philly building that had been dubbed the Ministry of Puppetganda.
They arrested everyone inside -- about 70 Puppetistas -- and then
destroyed everything that had been built there: giant puppets, banners,
signs, and costumes. These protest props were to dramatize the policing
and prison issues that motivated the direct action, and to communicate
our vision of change.
It was a smart move by the police. Stripped of our means of
communication, we looked as if we had no message to convey. This
perception became a running theme in corporate media coverage of the
August 1 demonstrations; we were cast as mindless hordes wreaking random
havoc.
There were about two hours on Tuesday when chaos reigned, and I have to
say it was glorious. Not the small-scale window-breaking, tire-slashing,
and graffiti, mostly targeted at police vehicles; the use of those
tactics in the context of a big direct action leaves me lukewarm at
best. (The sort of property destruction where people sabotage
experimental genetically modified crops and so forth: that makes my
heart go pit-a-pat.)
What thrilled me in Philly was the success and character of the action
from an organizational point of view. By about 5:00PM, all you needed to
do if you wanted to know where disturbances were happening was to look
up in the sky and follow the helicopters. I somehow never bothered to
count them, but there were half a dozen at least, spread out over a
large area.
Each helicopter hovered over an effective, autonomously organized
blockade. Throughout the afternoon, the whir of helicopters was joined
by dozens of sirens, as long lines of police dashed around the city
trying to contain the protests, only to encounter new disruptions in
previously quiet locations. Center City was gridlocked, and delegate
buses were stuck in the traffic before they could even pick up their
intended passengers. (I got a great photo of my affinity group in front
of one such vehicle, flashing the message "Take Next Bus.") Delegates
who wanted to get to the convention had to walk some distance before
they could even hail a cab. We made our presence felt.
The decentralized character of the action rendered police surveillance
ineffective and made our protest impossible to stop. The district
attorney is already trying to pin conspiracy charges on people whom the
authorities perceive as leaders, like Kate Sorensen of ACT UP/Philly or
John Sellers, the director of the Ruckus Society, which trains activists
in blockading and other nonviolent techniques. (Their bail was initally
set at a jaw-dropping $1 million.) But the beauty of the action is that
it wasn't a conspiracy. There was no central planning of the actual
blockades: The people who created the various disruptions kept their
plans to themselves, and no one knew everything that would go down. On
the day of the action, communications people relayed information between
the various geographic sectors, but there were no "leaders" in the usual
sense, directing or even coordinating the course of events.
Instead, actions of this sort rely on organizers -- people who play a
very different role. For Philly, these key activists crafted the call to
action, focusing on police brutality and the prison-industrial complex;
they got the word out about the protest, encouraged others to come, and
handled endless logistical details.
The lasting significance of the Philly action won't be its effect on
public opinion (and wouldn't have been, even if we hadn't bombed so
badly in the media). It will be how and by whom it was organized. The
Philly organizers were not the same crew that put together the Seattle
WTO protests or the IMF and World Bank actions in Washington, D.C. (The
overlap between the organizers of the two earlier actions was so
extensive that many called the D.C. mobilization "cliquish.")
The major players in Philly were a good deal younger and far more
racially diverse than the organizers of Seattle or D.C. Activists of
color - including members of New York's SLAM (Student Liberation Action
Movement) and Philadelphia ACT UP - were key in initiating the
mobilization and played central planning roles throughout the months of
organizing.
In twenty years of activism, I've never seen a comparable effort: a
decentralized direct action based on affinity groups and consensus
decision-making process, that was substantially shaped by people of
color. Throughout the last two decades, the movements that have used
this structure and process have been overwhelmingly white -- including
the Seattle and D.C. mobilizations. In Philly, the issues, priorities,
and analysis of movements of color intersected with an organizational
style that was developed in predominantly white movements: The
convergence was wonderful to see.
After Seattle, Elizabeth (Betita) Martinez published a widely circulated
essay, "Where Was the Color in Seattle?" The piece, drawing on
interviews with a number of young activists of color who attended the
WTO protests, has sparked debate and action throughout the overlapping
activist networks that make up the emerging movement for global justice.
Many whites have taken anti-racism trainings in the months since, and
have sought to make new alliances by supporting movements of color,
rather than expecting activists of color to join predominantly white
campaigns. Meanwhile, many activists of color -- inspired by Seattle and
D.C., even though critical of their monochromatic character - have
embraced and transformed the Seattle organizing model, as part of a
longer-term renaissance of direct action within African-American,
Latino, and Asian-American movements.
The Philly protests are an exciting sign of progress, an indication that
sturdy bridges are beginning to form between predominantly people of
color and predominantly white movements. If these alliances continue to
strengthen, along with analogous bonds between labor and
environmentalists, just imagine what this movement can do. Even without
puppets.
You've heard of the Revolutionary Anarchist Black Bloc, with their
controversial tactics and fierce demeanor. Philly marked the advent of a
new force on the streets: the flying squad of the Revolutionary
Anarchist Clown Bloc. Bedecked in silly wigs, red noses, and other
trappings of resistance, the Clown Bloc aimed "to show the Republicans
they are not the only clowns in town."
As they swarmed through the streets of Philadelphia, they left fellow
protesters giggling over their deadpan take-offs on classic activist
slogans: "Hey hey, ho ho, hee hee!" "Three word chant, three word chant"
and so forth.
Their official communique, even more of an activist in-joke, stressed
their political openness: "We are not, however, calling for a strictly
anarchist clown bloc. We hereby open the call to those who do not
identify as anarcho-clowns, but nonetheless struggle to create the same
revolutionary antics: autonomist fan-dancers, situationist
contortionists, anti-fascist jugglers, council communist hula-hoopers,
wobbly tall-bike riders and stilt walkers, radical cheerleaders,
primitivist fire breathers, and yes, even anti-state libertarian marxist
mimes! Together, we can take back our lives from dominations by
elephants, jackasses, ringleaders, and all others. Our intent is not to
be divisive of the larger protests, but to support them by wearing very
large shoes."
It was remarkable how many irony-impaired spectators didn't get the
Billionaires for Bush (or Gore), several dozen delightful performers who
marched under the slogan, "Because inequality isn't growing fast
enough!" Wearing tuxedos and evening gowns in the Philadelphia heat, the
Billionaires put it all in perspective:
"Gore or Bush, Bush or Gore,
we don't care who you vote for.
We've already bought 'em
We've already bought 'em"
"What do we want?"
Prison labor!
"How do we want it?"
Cheap!
My favorite Billionaire moments came when my friend Alex took some of
the paper money he was carrying and sidled up to journalists from the
corporate media. He'd take a fake $5000 bill and slip it into the
journalists' hand or pocket: "You all are really doing a great job for
us," he'd say. "We're really happy with what you've been doing."
During the most chaotic part of the day on Tuesday, I was walking not
far from City Hall with Alex and other members of my affinity group,
when I spotted the loathsome Phil Gramm, Republican senator from Texas,
heading right for us. "Hey Alex, that's Phil Gramm," I said. Alex was
quick on his feet. "The party's over. The rich aren't going to have
their way any more," said Alex. Gramm slowed down. "Bullshit," he
replied (and I swear this is an exact quote). "The rich have always run
everything, and they always will." What I would have given for a video
camera.