This is What Democracy Looks Like

As I was working on last month's column romanticizing disasters and hoping for good stories, I was driving to see Vinyl down in Eugene. If getting disasters was what I wanted, my wish would be fulfilled. The drive down was through horrible conditions; I hydroplaned numerous times in Portland. During our food break, I got to eat moldy food at a Dairy Queen. Holly spent most of the night being sick. I had a sudden stomach attack that was so strong that I feared it was a kidney stone attack. I lost a contact lens and had no replacements because "I'm only going to Eugene. I'll leave them here." In short, disaster.

Despite all of that, we had a great time. On our way out, Kitty, Woody, and I stopped at the excellent Keystone Diner for lunch. While they ended up walking some 30 blocks to get to the nearest cash machine so they could pay for their food, I spent the time reading the "Black-Clad Messenger".

The "Black-Clad Messenger" is a free newsletter put out by a group of Eugene primitive-anarchists. Imagine the most sincere "Everything should be free!" hippie in the lot. Add in a heapful of anger. Remove whatever vague tolerance for other points of view they might have and then you have the average writer for the "Black-Clad Messenger." The newsletter alternates from being scary ("If fear is the only motivation the weak understand, perhaps it's time for the uncooperative to make the weak fear that which they have embraced") to the completely amusing. (Did you know that 'Primitive people had little, or no problem with diseases until coming in contact with civilization?" It says so right here!) The newsletter is filled with contradictions (the need to go back to a time before language existed is constantly mentioned, as is the need to teach people in the post revolution era about the errors of our generation... presumably by really effective use of humming) and anger. The cover of the newsletter is a picture of someone throwing a Molotov cocktail, with the caption "Your picture here" where the face should be. As I read their plans to come up to Seattle and wreak havoc, I began to worry. It's not often I get three weeks advance notice of a potential riot.

As those weeks passed, I tried to make up a plan. First I decided to get together the Seattle freaks to have a counter-counter-protest. Everyone could wear their wings and capes and glitter and march around chanting "More fun now!" "What do we want? More glitter! When do we want it? Now!" Alas though, the reality of the workplace prevented us from all getting together. "Sorry, I can't get to the WTO protest, I have to work for my multinational corporation."

The one advantage the particular multinational corporation that I work for has is flextime. I came in early to work on the morning of Tuesday, November 30th. I put on the "news station" KIRO (or as I call it, the non-news news), only to find, much to my surprise, that they were actually covering the protests. I started to hear occasional stories about vandalism. I figured that I should go down to document this.

I was framing the confrontation as being between "Multinational Corporations and the Humorless Left" - basing that on "The Black-Clad Messenger"'s insistence that anyone who didn't agree with 100% of their platform was the enemy. When I arrived on the scene at 4th and University, I was stunned to see it was a party type environment. Sure people were adamant about not agreeing with the WTO's goals, but that didn't stop them from dressing as super heroes or wearing

cool gas masks. I even ran into

Greenpeace Henry, someone who had been staffing Phish's Greenpeace and Waterwheel tables since at least 1994. "Hey, what did they soundcheck?" I asked.

Part of the strategy of the police was to keep the protesters in two separate groups. Pike Street and Union Streets were blocked off. That way the delegates could get to their meetings and some crowd control could be done. However, there is a bus tunnel that operates below Seattle. That was still open. I went into the University Street station and took the first bus going north. I got off at the Westlake station and went up to see the other side of the blockade. I was not prepared for what I was going to see.

If the Eugene contingent was kept at bay by one man on the south side of the blockade, the north side had no such luck. Windows were smashed, people were

on the roofs of building, graffiti was everywhere. Sure it still had a feeling of an impromptu street party, but it was the kind of party where the cops break it up and your house gets destroyed. I do have to confess a certain sympathy for this movement. For all of my romanticizing of a time before multinationals were omnipresent, how could I not find a little joy in the smashing of a

Starbucks window? When watching the coverage of Woodstock 2 in 1994, I was hoping that the crowd below would rebel against the MTV lords above them in their camera tower. So sure, I could understand the rage. The problem is that, in order to get popular support, rage isn't enough. Destruction followed by an intelligent explanation as to why it had to be done can be an effective tool. Destruction followed by the phrase "Fuck WTO Bitches" is liable to have a different reaction.

While I was milling around, the reaction became apparent. "BOOM!" went the report. Again and again the shots were fired. You never know how you will react in a situation like that until you are in it. If you had asked me a few weeks ago, "How would you react if you were in a large protest and you heard a cannon of some sorts being fired?" my answers would revolve around running away... far away... very quickly. Maybe it was the camera around my neck, maybe it was the desire for adventure I've been having lately, maybe it was courage that I didn't know that I had, but I ran towards the explosions. Some people had rolled a dumpster in the middle of the intersection of 4th and Pike and set it on fire.

I was taking photos for as long as I could before being overcome by the pepper gas. As I was moving away, I heard a man with a bullhorn chanting "Non-violent protest!" I thought he was was chastising the cops, like people who would be chanting "Shame" on Wednesday, but I was wrong. He was trying to maintain order within the protesters. "Hold your ground, but do so peacefully. DO NOT THROW OBJECTS." The adrenaline wore off by the time I got to 5th and I realized just how much my eyes were stinging. A wonderful woman wearing a "First Aid" hat came over to me with a bottle of water and flushed out my eyes. I figured that was enough excitement and I went to go home. After a little adventure involving almost getting trapped in the bus tunnel, I made it home safely. It looked like I left just in time. The tear gas was beginning to flow.

If I have one regret during this week, it's that I didn't venture downtown during Wednesday. Lulled into a false sense of security by Mayor Schell telling everyone that things were back to normal (and all it took was martial law to do so), I ended up watching the Police Riot on tv. The image of people being sprayed with pepper gas as they tried to help up a fallen woman terrified me. I didn't know that I could do anything to defuse the situation, but I did want to try. As I was figuring out what to do, I heard of a peaceful protest right outside of the "No Protest Zone." As the curfew was about to start, the protesters, per their agreement with the police, quietly dispersed. Tensions defused. I went to sleep, happy that we had weathered the storm.

I woke early on Thursday morning to my alarm clock playing NPR. They were talking about "Broadway" and "The Capitol Hill district". Things apparently slowed down so much that they were rehashing a clash on Tuesday night. As I reached for the snooze button I heard "tear gas." Wait a second. Tear gas wasn't used on Tuesday.

I know of no way of telling the events of Wednesday night that will not make me angry. Peaceful protesters, residents, shoppers, all were teargassed and shot with rubber bullets. A city councilman trying to restore order between the groups got gassed. If the goal of the police was to radicalize the population, it was doing a great job.

After work, I drove downtown to see what was going on. Walking toward the "No Protest Zone", I literally walked straight into a demonstration. I was just planning to watch it and record it until I heard the chant. "This is what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!" I slipped into the crowd and joined in the chant. The crowd was mixed between

WTO protesters and people who were offended by the actions of the police and mayor. The march went south towards the jail. That's where people staged a sit down blockade. "Oh that's a good idea," I told another marcher, "engage in civil disobedience right outside of the jail doors." "Hey. It's the WTO world. Efficiency in protesting." Level headedness seemed to be the theme of the day. People were getting their point across and the police were letting them do so. After the last 36 hours, it seemed like a celebration.

Friday was more than the last day of the WTO meetings. It was also the first night of Hanukkah. One the first night, you say two prayers. There's the usual prayer that roughly translates to "God, dude! You rock! Candles! Great idea." The extra prayer though is my favorite in all of Judaism. It goes, "Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who gave us life and kept us and delivered us to this time." In short, "we made it through another year, thanks." As I said it, I thought about the protesters who were sitting in jail and about the fact that despite the chaos not one person had died. While I don't believe in a God, it still was nice to be able to give thanks.

After my candles burned down, I went down to the protest outside the jail. As people were talking about freeing "The Seattle 500", the report came from inside the WTO meetings that some African countries were having issues with the proposed agreements and were refusing to sign them. "Don't sign, Africa" came the chant for about 15 minutes. We had come full circle. A protest about the way protesters had been treated had morphed into a protest about the WTO.

I left the protest to go see the Living Daylights. Dale and I swapped stories about what we had done during the protests. He had restrained a delegate from beating up on a protester. Feeling guilty, I went back to the protest around 11:30. "What did I miss?" "The WTO talks have completely collapsed!"

I have seen many things at protests before, but this is the first time I have ever seen a victory party. My side never seems to win. Usually a rally ends with the organizers thanking us for coming out and saying that next time we will win. I basked in the joy for a few minutes and walked back to my car. I drove back to the concert in time to catch the tail end of a "Caravan." I spread the news and watched people get excited.

By Saturday things were back to normal. I went back to Westlake Center and saw the shoppers out in force. Other than some boarded up windows and

someone selling t-shirts in an attempt to cash in on the protests, things looked like any other December day. People were saying how much better things were now that the WTO was over. I don't know if I can go there. For a few days, downtown was about debating instead of shopping. Ralph Nader was interviewed on KIRO radio. NorthWest Cable News was, well, covering news. Whether trade can co-exist with environmental concerns, what the limits of civil disobedience are, the differences between using rubber bullets or tear gas on a crowd, these were the issues of the week. Whether by being tear gassed or having their workplace close or seeing police attack peaceful protesters, people were shocked out of their routine. Maybe a riot isn't the best route to enlightenment, but it can be effective.