To some these two words may seem contrary, some would go as far as to say that they should not be placed in the same sentence. This would, however, be a mistake on a fundamental level. We live in an era where state repression favors the opponent with the least threatening tactics. They have come to understand that social struggle is a constant, and will remain so indefinitely. So in this light they prefer to choose and promote the opponent which is least threatening. This often means those who condemn forceful acts. It happened in India with Gandhi and it is happening all over the world today. I bring Gandhi into this only to say that he is an American hero. In India it is a man named Bhagat Singh, a revolutionary who opposed the occupation by whatever means necessary. The British then sought out Gandhi and his followers to promote this less threatening form of resistance. The same is happening in America, the activist community has been fed a mantra of pacifism. It is self rewarding, perceived as being morally superior, and largely ineffective. With all of this said i am not advocating violence but rather effectiveness. One must ask: Have the tactics of the past few decades slowed the advance of industrial society? Have they saved more forests than were lost? Saved more species, lives, or livelihoods, than were extinguished? Activists need only ask themselves what is effective, not which moral category of action they want to engage in. If we can accept that each of us has a 'tool bag', in which there exists various tactics, each appropriate to a given circumstance, then maybe we will be inclined to use and explore some of the other tools we possess. For perhaps the tools we have been using are stripped and rusted, or simply not up to the task.
So how does all this relate back to loving and fighting? Well if one was to consider them as synonyms not words which antagonize each other, we may be able to tap into a new found power. I will pose the following question: can a person truly love another being if they are not willing to fight for its survival, its very life? If the forest activists claim that they love the trees but are not willing to risk or sacrifice anything more than a few dollars, do they love it? The same question can be posed on the side of fighting. Can one sustain a fight without love? Who will endure longer, the paid soldier, or the impassioned guerrilla? In military terms a quick and simple battle plan is favorable. We are not the military, a quick easy victory is not possible. This is to be a struggle that will outlast myself; and what keeps someone focused and motivated is love.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Prisons of the mind
For anyone still following, this is an extension of Notes From the Field, I being the one in the field, am bringing you something a little more philosophical today. I will start by posing the question of how ones environment affects, and then subsequently effects them? Today I am writing from a large straw bail house, about 80 percent complete, with hand carved woodwork across all the rafters and trellises. We use a composting toilet, enjoy hot water- heated from a natural gas well that's on site, and drink water that has been stored in large holding tanks atop the hill on the west side of the property. It’s really quite a lovely homestead; the only utilities that are hooked up is the power. So where might you ask is this home located, on the north end of Humboldt County. The reason I have described to you my situation is simple, I have been here a month now and what started as a quaint homestead has turned into a stagnant plot of land which I have poured both my sweat and thoughts into. The reason we came was simple, money. So of course your wondering what a small, mostly off the grid homestead in northern California has to offer in the way of employment, well ill let you connect the dots from there. Anyway my time here has given me ample opportunities to reflect upon some small questions, some large questions, and everything in between. What I have realized is that in our toiling, we as a race, and in the year 2010 have an aptitude for denial, and it runs deep. This denial encompasses everything from patriarchy, to colonialism, to reality itself. There is a current trend emerging in pop culture. It started long ago in the realm of science fiction and has most notably produced such movies as the matrix and more recently inception, voted the best science fiction movie to date, and grossing millions. What all of this speaks to me is simple. People are looking for an escape. We work and work and work, then drive home, through crowded streets with other folks equally discouraged by the routine of wage slavery, eventually sit down, eat our microwave dinners, because we have no energy left to feed ourselves healthy food; turn on the TV, receive today’s dose of advertisements and insecurities; and finally fall sleep, only to repeat the insanity tomorrow. So for the people who get as far as recognizing this cycle, they are also looking for an option of how to change it. Rightly so, there is much work that must be done, and ill get to that later. But many people cannot even recognize this cycle, at least consciously, yet on some level I believe they recognize the problems we face, perhaps somewhere deep down in that poor psyche held hostage by the American dream. What is coming to the surface is simple, we would rather buy up this idea that the world as it stands today and our lives in that world are a dream, or that it is a mirage of true reality, or controlled by a computer, by reptilians, by the NWO, by fucking Santa Claus, what’s the difference. I have heard more theories about how the world works, how its going to end, what reality really is, etc, that I'm convinced much of the population is insane. Now when I say this I also believe that they are not beyond liberation, but seriously people we need to face the facts, turn off the TV, stop absorbing the virtual reality, try learning from something living, instead of a block of glass and liquid crystals. We have one earth, there is no niburu, and nothing is going to magically happen tomorrow. What we need is for people to actually start caring about the earth and themselves, now and in the present. This is reality, the one that we have been given, so remove it from your privileged minds that any of these pot-brained ideas, influenced primarily by the media are going to actually happen. There are more problems with the reality of today than I care to go into, pick one and start working on it. I know it’s easier to simply write off these issues by proclaiming that climate change doesn’t matter if we all live in a computer and this is just in the programming; or that its all part of the plan, and that's what the chemtrails are there for, glen beck told me so...
In the plainest sense what this means is that when an individual starts to believe in something as fantastical as this, they stop caring about that which truly matters. Some of which is as follows: clean air, clean water, healthy land to grow food on, shelter, clothing, and community. Moreover, as long as there exists millions if not billions of starving humans around the globe, as long as ecosystems are being destroyed at a ghastly rate, as long as entire species are driven extinct, as long as such injustice as 1 in 4 women being sexually assaulted in their lives exists; I don’t want to hear another word about an individuals theory on why none of the above matters. If this is not a clear, cut and dry case of denial I don’t know what is. We face some trying times, but rather than rising to those times, we have hit an epidemic of denial. I could end this by exclaiming that people need wake up, but to be honest that is up to them. I want only to unite those whose eyes are aching from being open so wide.
Love and rage
In the plainest sense what this means is that when an individual starts to believe in something as fantastical as this, they stop caring about that which truly matters. Some of which is as follows: clean air, clean water, healthy land to grow food on, shelter, clothing, and community. Moreover, as long as there exists millions if not billions of starving humans around the globe, as long as ecosystems are being destroyed at a ghastly rate, as long as entire species are driven extinct, as long as such injustice as 1 in 4 women being sexually assaulted in their lives exists; I don’t want to hear another word about an individuals theory on why none of the above matters. If this is not a clear, cut and dry case of denial I don’t know what is. We face some trying times, but rather than rising to those times, we have hit an epidemic of denial. I could end this by exclaiming that people need wake up, but to be honest that is up to them. I want only to unite those whose eyes are aching from being open so wide.
Love and rage
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Notes From The Field #3
Well I've been on the move for a good solid 6 nights and 7 days. Today is the 9th and i am making a quick stop back home to swap out some gear, dropping the extraneous weight of gear i have yet to use, and picking up some snow gear for the journey ahead. But before i get too far lets backtrack to when we left Olympia. We left Portland via a ride share we found on craigslist. Turned out she was a biologist from Berkley returning from a conference in Seattle. I took a brief nap but awoke to a rousing conversation of how fucked the ecology of the planet is and what little is being done to remedy it. Our in house scientist seemed to believe that effective strategies for saving our collective asses should come from politicians and as such told us that all means of combating these injustices are "policy matters". I am perpetually blown away by the compartmentalization that occurs in peoples minds. She believes that because she is a scientist her only role is to advise 'decision makers'; people whose sole job is to dictate how others will live. So lets assume for a moment that we see these individuals for what they are, corporate pawns. Politicians interests lie primarily in economics, not the general welfare of the populous. So if we can agree on this than what should truly be happening is that scientists should be dictating to politicians what must be done to ensure the survival of all life; instead they are on their knees waiting for economics to work it self out. For decades now we have been placing economics ahead of the environment, which at the end of the day is the only thing that matters. So if scientists cant get through to politicians, who can, whose responsibility is it to stop these systematic injustices? if you cannot answer this question yourself, then please step aside and allow those who actually give a damn to do their work.
Alright so back to the trip, we spent a week up in the Willamette national forest, it was absolutely gorgeous. We learned how to identify the nest of the rare Red Tree Vole. It only lives in old growth Douglas firs. The unit we were in had only a few hundred of these trees. The landscape was dominated primarily by Noble firs. We learned the process of tree climbing from start to finish. For those of you who are used to being able to throw your lines over the lowest limb, this is a whole different game. We used crossbows and compound bows to shoot lines as high as 150 feet. We would then thread a shot line over where the fishing line once was. The process is then repeated one last time with your climbing line. The line is then anchored and weighted, and then your ready to go. We used presic knots to ascend, seeing as ascenders would tear up the rope in short order, and we are poor forest activists. It was an amazing experience, climbing something that has been around long enough to see the end of hundreds of native cultures, a being old enough to have lived through the slave era and countless civil rights struggles, it has witnessed the slaughter of its own kind, it has seen whole forest hillsides chopped and burned so humans might have cheap disposable goods. Yet through all this they stand tall, still supporting the life that surrounds them, they provide sustenance and shelter for countless species. They are truly a noble being. We got rained in for two days, unable to hike out to the unit or climb. Shortly thereafter some of us decided it was time to hit the road again. We hiked out some 20 miles of logging roads, then hitched to Eugene where our ride, a kind gentlemen and proud father, offered to buy us a drink. Despite the cultural stigma surrounding this scenario, he was a man who admittedly was experiencing the 'empty nest' feeling, and as such, i believe wanted to offer us every hospitality he would his own children. We then found a nearby spot to crash out for the night. In the morning we caught a ride north to Salem and then onto Portland, where we found forest park to be an excellent spot for travelers to rest. We awoke to realize we were in the heart of bourgeois territory. There were dozens of couples and individuals jogging by on a nearby trail, all decked out in the latest, most expensive running gear. We strolled down the trail proud of our indecent odor leaving behind that bubble of American privilege. We would make it all the way to Tacoma by the end of the day. Our ride was from an enlisted man, but not the type of man i would have expected. He enlisted simply because he had a lack of direction in his life, and from what i could gather was looking forward to the day he got out. He explained to us that navy these days was a mere extension of high school, but with more physical labor. From this account and all the other interactions i had experienced over the past few days i was starting to hit a new realization. This may be obvious for some, for others this may be a complete revelation. People are complex. We got rides from some terribly patriarchal men, from some military men, a construction worker, and a grandfather visiting his daughter. All of them had their quarks. Some self pronounced capitalists, liberals, republicans, etc. The point I'm getting at is that they defied definition. They all seemed to want to help others, hence they picked us up, yet many of the lives that they had chosen would not have told me this. If i would have met the businessman who gave us a ride elsewhere, i would not have thought so highly of a man concerned primarily by his fiscal security. Yet this experience has taught me first hand that people are extremely complex. Capable of both perpetuating exploitation and helping alleviate others from it. The conclusions i can make are simple, preemptive judgments serve no one. The image that is constructed of another must be based on the immediate action that all parties are involved in. Our thoughts and assessments should be confined to action, not theory, which leaves little room for the organic nature of this world. There are of course lines and divides that will inevitably be drawn between people, but let them be based on ones reaction and opinion of a given action, or scenario. Hold true to your beliefs, but use them in the moment, instead of fore-judging another. I believe in change, both that we can change the world in which we live and that individuals can better themselves and those around them, sometimes they need only to be given a choice.
That's all for now folks
Alright so back to the trip, we spent a week up in the Willamette national forest, it was absolutely gorgeous. We learned how to identify the nest of the rare Red Tree Vole. It only lives in old growth Douglas firs. The unit we were in had only a few hundred of these trees. The landscape was dominated primarily by Noble firs. We learned the process of tree climbing from start to finish. For those of you who are used to being able to throw your lines over the lowest limb, this is a whole different game. We used crossbows and compound bows to shoot lines as high as 150 feet. We would then thread a shot line over where the fishing line once was. The process is then repeated one last time with your climbing line. The line is then anchored and weighted, and then your ready to go. We used presic knots to ascend, seeing as ascenders would tear up the rope in short order, and we are poor forest activists. It was an amazing experience, climbing something that has been around long enough to see the end of hundreds of native cultures, a being old enough to have lived through the slave era and countless civil rights struggles, it has witnessed the slaughter of its own kind, it has seen whole forest hillsides chopped and burned so humans might have cheap disposable goods. Yet through all this they stand tall, still supporting the life that surrounds them, they provide sustenance and shelter for countless species. They are truly a noble being. We got rained in for two days, unable to hike out to the unit or climb. Shortly thereafter some of us decided it was time to hit the road again. We hiked out some 20 miles of logging roads, then hitched to Eugene where our ride, a kind gentlemen and proud father, offered to buy us a drink. Despite the cultural stigma surrounding this scenario, he was a man who admittedly was experiencing the 'empty nest' feeling, and as such, i believe wanted to offer us every hospitality he would his own children. We then found a nearby spot to crash out for the night. In the morning we caught a ride north to Salem and then onto Portland, where we found forest park to be an excellent spot for travelers to rest. We awoke to realize we were in the heart of bourgeois territory. There were dozens of couples and individuals jogging by on a nearby trail, all decked out in the latest, most expensive running gear. We strolled down the trail proud of our indecent odor leaving behind that bubble of American privilege. We would make it all the way to Tacoma by the end of the day. Our ride was from an enlisted man, but not the type of man i would have expected. He enlisted simply because he had a lack of direction in his life, and from what i could gather was looking forward to the day he got out. He explained to us that navy these days was a mere extension of high school, but with more physical labor. From this account and all the other interactions i had experienced over the past few days i was starting to hit a new realization. This may be obvious for some, for others this may be a complete revelation. People are complex. We got rides from some terribly patriarchal men, from some military men, a construction worker, and a grandfather visiting his daughter. All of them had their quarks. Some self pronounced capitalists, liberals, republicans, etc. The point I'm getting at is that they defied definition. They all seemed to want to help others, hence they picked us up, yet many of the lives that they had chosen would not have told me this. If i would have met the businessman who gave us a ride elsewhere, i would not have thought so highly of a man concerned primarily by his fiscal security. Yet this experience has taught me first hand that people are extremely complex. Capable of both perpetuating exploitation and helping alleviate others from it. The conclusions i can make are simple, preemptive judgments serve no one. The image that is constructed of another must be based on the immediate action that all parties are involved in. Our thoughts and assessments should be confined to action, not theory, which leaves little room for the organic nature of this world. There are of course lines and divides that will inevitably be drawn between people, but let them be based on ones reaction and opinion of a given action, or scenario. Hold true to your beliefs, but use them in the moment, instead of fore-judging another. I believe in change, both that we can change the world in which we live and that individuals can better themselves and those around them, sometimes they need only to be given a choice.
That's all for now folks
Friday, August 27, 2010
Notes From The Field #2
The date is August 27. Today i am writing from a public library in Portland, we traveled from Bellingham, to Tacoma, to Olympia, onto Portland, and later in the day we will be leaving for Nest. A ground troop of forest activists located somewhere east of Albany, OR. If the past few days are any indication i believe this journey could prove to be quite the roller coaster. Olympia for example, was full of more surprises than a B class movie trying desperately to keep you on the edge of your seat. Within the first hour we were swimming in the deschutes river, scaling, then leaping off log jams and of course taking in the drunken stuper of some men barely able to stand. Next we decided a good frolic in a field was necessary. What we didn't know was that the owner of zed field wasn't quite so warm and fuzzy about the prospect of social dissidents tromping through his grass. We were able however to eat a quick dinner and lose a wallet before we took off thanks to the friendly warning of a passing nieghbor. Later that evening the missing wallet forced us to return to the field where we were promptly met by the sound of a roaring quad and an elitist prick who is so concerned with keeping people on the other side of his 4 foot fence that he began filming us immediately, so as to report us later. After a brief exchange and some "fuck you's" we thought it prudent to leave as quickly as we had come. the rest of our evening was filled with parkour, wine, and the typical dubious activities that follow wine. All and all it was a damn good day.
As for Portland, the same thing tends to happen to me every time i show up here. Militant veganism. Apart from our hosts who themselves are vegan and extremely giving and caring people. we met numerous individuals who began preaching the tenants of veganism- it may as well have been the bible. Before i get too far let me clarify, i have nothing wrong with veganism, vegetarianism, or meat eaters. I animatley oppose factory farming, i am in complete agreement that we should free those animals and abolish that form of farming. However, if i choose to respectfully raise a cow, on ample amounts of free range grassland, and never take from that animal more than i need, i have no problem with this. human are omnivores we have historically eaten meat for our entire existence. It becomes important to realize that we are animals, there are other species of animals who indeed eat more animals. this is called the food chain. The problems today are not the we kill animals, It is that we raise them in incarceration, then slaughter them. There is nothing natural about this. It would be like conflating killing during war time operations or out of sport, with killing for survival and necessity. So my only problem with veganism is that is becomes yet another means for people to gain the elusive 'moral high ground'. i have no interest being proselytized to, i could just as easily pick apart aspects of their lives, but that would not grow the kind of unified movement we need. Thus i will end with this, all of us need to further our respect for the land and the creatures that inhabit it.
As for Portland, the same thing tends to happen to me every time i show up here. Militant veganism. Apart from our hosts who themselves are vegan and extremely giving and caring people. we met numerous individuals who began preaching the tenants of veganism- it may as well have been the bible. Before i get too far let me clarify, i have nothing wrong with veganism, vegetarianism, or meat eaters. I animatley oppose factory farming, i am in complete agreement that we should free those animals and abolish that form of farming. However, if i choose to respectfully raise a cow, on ample amounts of free range grassland, and never take from that animal more than i need, i have no problem with this. human are omnivores we have historically eaten meat for our entire existence. It becomes important to realize that we are animals, there are other species of animals who indeed eat more animals. this is called the food chain. The problems today are not the we kill animals, It is that we raise them in incarceration, then slaughter them. There is nothing natural about this. It would be like conflating killing during war time operations or out of sport, with killing for survival and necessity. So my only problem with veganism is that is becomes yet another means for people to gain the elusive 'moral high ground'. i have no interest being proselytized to, i could just as easily pick apart aspects of their lives, but that would not grow the kind of unified movement we need. Thus i will end with this, all of us need to further our respect for the land and the creatures that inhabit it.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Notes From The Field #1
Today is a day of anticipation, exhilaration, fear and utter release. I set out on a journey with no definitive end or time line. I know only this much, the road ahead will hold many lessons and many more memories. I am traveling with a group of trusted friends whose passion and drive to affect the world around them, goes unmatched. I am a man whose reserved skepticism sometime gets the best of him, but i refuse to stop fighting and simply accept the status quo. The apathetic trends of this culture have gone too far and they will not win this battle, not for this man.
The date is August 25. I sit in a upper middle class home in the heart of Tacoma. We are staying at one of my traveling compadres parents home. I will likely not be exposed to such luxury for some time. We leave here at noon, heading south, Olympia is to be our next stop. From there Portland, and by Friday we will be east of Albany; meeting with a group of forest defenders. They climb trees all day in search of the elusive red tree vole; an endangered species whose habitat is rapidly being raped and exploited so that we may enjoy three ply toilet paper for our delicate asses. Needless to say i am not in favor of the logging. I am not i favor of any form of modern day resource extraction, in which we take from the land far more than we could ever use responsibly. Humans of course need resources, what we do not need is clear cuts, strip mines, oil extraction and spills so large we could never even attempt to truly "clean" them up. What we need is a change of mind, realizing we do not own the land, we are part of it, without it we die. From here i can only hope our actions will change.
Have to cut this short, no time. Tune in at some point in the near future for more updates from the field. Until then...pick up a brick!
The date is August 25. I sit in a upper middle class home in the heart of Tacoma. We are staying at one of my traveling compadres parents home. I will likely not be exposed to such luxury for some time. We leave here at noon, heading south, Olympia is to be our next stop. From there Portland, and by Friday we will be east of Albany; meeting with a group of forest defenders. They climb trees all day in search of the elusive red tree vole; an endangered species whose habitat is rapidly being raped and exploited so that we may enjoy three ply toilet paper for our delicate asses. Needless to say i am not in favor of the logging. I am not i favor of any form of modern day resource extraction, in which we take from the land far more than we could ever use responsibly. Humans of course need resources, what we do not need is clear cuts, strip mines, oil extraction and spills so large we could never even attempt to truly "clean" them up. What we need is a change of mind, realizing we do not own the land, we are part of it, without it we die. From here i can only hope our actions will change.
Have to cut this short, no time. Tune in at some point in the near future for more updates from the field. Until then...pick up a brick!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
No 2010
Well let’s start chronologically. We drove up Thursday night. After seeing Chinook helicopters and military jets in Bellingham just days before the opening ceremony. We crossed the border after an unusual couple of questions from the Canadian border patrol: “are you fully employed, are you part of any groups or organizations?” once we schmoozed our way through we arrived in Vancouver only to find it had utterly been taken over by corporate interests. The streets were filled with ads, promotions, and people from around the world covered head to toe with Olympic rings. The skies were ablaze with spotlights while choppers dodged in and out of sight. We splurged for some sushi and eased our worries that night with a few shots of whisky.
The next morning, we woke to a gray sky and a lack of Canadian currency. Eventually we boarded the sky train and headed into the heart of the beast. Downtown Vancouver was more like Disney land than a city I had come to love. Zip lines over head buzzed with overjoyed ignorance. Whole skyscrapers became billboards for such contributors as Samsung and RBC. Security forces were of course looming behind this curtain of consumerism, however Friday was mostly uneventful on that front. After perusing through some of the Olympic festivities, such as a film showing in a shipping container, we headed back to downtown for some lunch. On our way we ran into Dale; a homeless man with HIV who was sitting on a milk crate, crying hysterically. While strobe lights, zip lines, and trivia games were held just meters away. We decided to stop and observe for a while, this then turned into one of the most sobering experiences of my life. We stood and sat by dale for the next half hour. Listened to his story and offered as much support as we could. He explained to us that he had been diagnosed with HIV seven years prior and that he was only expected to live for another two. Those who offered money were met with the blunt truth- he didn’t need money, it was useless to him. So we offered our moral support and all the strength we could muster. I stood watching the crowds pass for over 30 minutes. Watching the faces of those heartless desensitized capitalists, pass by. Most gawked, some stopped for a moment until reading he was HIV positive, then continued on as if sickened by that fact. Every man or woman who passed me was met with more and more rage as I absorbed their lack of compassion, and human understanding. One man even said to a nearby pedestrian, “they’re just not use to the homeless.” From that moment on I knew the seriousness of the situation; I had experienced first hand what was at stake, and gazed into the eyes of our enemy.
Three o’clock. We converged at the art museum in down town. My rage from the previous couple hours began to dissipate as I saw the faces of our fellow brothers and sisters. The protest was about to begin and after receiving a sign and listening to a few speakers, we departed. The march would take us to BC Place, outside of where the opening ceremony was to be held. Just after dark we reached the stadium, with around 2000 protesters. We stood and chanted for the next hour or so. The police line that met us there began to grow impatient. With 50 or so officers directly in front of us and 20 horses and more fuzz behind them, the pushing match began. This was however largely uneventful, with much singing, magical thinking, and moments of silence. Needless to say we decided to leave. Again we drown our worries and stress with some whisky.
Saturday morning. With a slight headache and a constant buzzing in my head we departed. A more militant protest was to be held at 8:30 am, and leave from the central train station. We arrived 45 minutes late after being profiled and harassed by police. My knife was snatched off my person and confiscated because they were expecting “civil unrest.” We then disembarked from the sky train and started chasing after the protest, along with several swat vans just blocks away. The protest moved quickly, more like a tornado, leaving news stands and dumpsters in its wake. We finally caught up and joined in. There were around 200 of us. The black bloc is leading as well as tagging nearby cars and signs. Ripping down newsstands and eventually breaking plate glass windows. It was quite the sight to behold. After the window incident the police got a little fed up and the riot cops were brought in. Hundreds of armor clad officers with batons and AR-15’s surrounded us. For the next couple hours we played a game of cat and mouse; trying to stay one step ahead of the police line. Some small clashes broke out and our numbers started to dwindle. Eventually we were cornered and decided it would be a good time to have a dance party in the street. I sat on the side lines. This went on for a good 20 minutes or so. When two swat vans quickly came up behind us, unloaded their cargo of donut guzzling pigs and proceeded to surround the street party. Forty or so people were temporarily detained and then released. This was the end of the march.
We decided to get some lunch following all the excitement and then went to the library for some rest and relaxation. We were to come home this night but before doing so we ran into yet another group of riot cops profiling and detaining a group of individuals’ downtown. Finally before catching the bus, we watched Joe Biden’s motorcade drive by. This was about all the spectacle I could handle and headed home to a real bed and some peace of mind.
Now that I am sitting here typing this, I have had some time to think through the tactics used. It becomes very clear that protests are scripted events. This is in the sense that organizers spend months preparing for a single day, or perhaps a week. These protesters are then met with an oppressive police force, and you can usually count on property damage and police brutality. Once all this occurs many will loose sight of the cause and its ramifications. Mainstream media doesn’t help the matter either. So for effective organizing to occur we must shift our tactics. Whatever actions we embark upon must be sustained, for many weeks, months, or years. This is the only way to achieve change. Protests are a way to voice opposition, not stop an event from occurring. If someone was to stop the Olympics, the last tactic they would use would be a protest. We all need to stop and think about the long term. Protests serve short term interests, people feel good when they protest, however, very little change occurs after such an event. Long term organizing means diverting that energy into forming autonomous communities, capable of sustained efforts.
The next morning, we woke to a gray sky and a lack of Canadian currency. Eventually we boarded the sky train and headed into the heart of the beast. Downtown Vancouver was more like Disney land than a city I had come to love. Zip lines over head buzzed with overjoyed ignorance. Whole skyscrapers became billboards for such contributors as Samsung and RBC. Security forces were of course looming behind this curtain of consumerism, however Friday was mostly uneventful on that front. After perusing through some of the Olympic festivities, such as a film showing in a shipping container, we headed back to downtown for some lunch. On our way we ran into Dale; a homeless man with HIV who was sitting on a milk crate, crying hysterically. While strobe lights, zip lines, and trivia games were held just meters away. We decided to stop and observe for a while, this then turned into one of the most sobering experiences of my life. We stood and sat by dale for the next half hour. Listened to his story and offered as much support as we could. He explained to us that he had been diagnosed with HIV seven years prior and that he was only expected to live for another two. Those who offered money were met with the blunt truth- he didn’t need money, it was useless to him. So we offered our moral support and all the strength we could muster. I stood watching the crowds pass for over 30 minutes. Watching the faces of those heartless desensitized capitalists, pass by. Most gawked, some stopped for a moment until reading he was HIV positive, then continued on as if sickened by that fact. Every man or woman who passed me was met with more and more rage as I absorbed their lack of compassion, and human understanding. One man even said to a nearby pedestrian, “they’re just not use to the homeless.” From that moment on I knew the seriousness of the situation; I had experienced first hand what was at stake, and gazed into the eyes of our enemy.
Three o’clock. We converged at the art museum in down town. My rage from the previous couple hours began to dissipate as I saw the faces of our fellow brothers and sisters. The protest was about to begin and after receiving a sign and listening to a few speakers, we departed. The march would take us to BC Place, outside of where the opening ceremony was to be held. Just after dark we reached the stadium, with around 2000 protesters. We stood and chanted for the next hour or so. The police line that met us there began to grow impatient. With 50 or so officers directly in front of us and 20 horses and more fuzz behind them, the pushing match began. This was however largely uneventful, with much singing, magical thinking, and moments of silence. Needless to say we decided to leave. Again we drown our worries and stress with some whisky.
Saturday morning. With a slight headache and a constant buzzing in my head we departed. A more militant protest was to be held at 8:30 am, and leave from the central train station. We arrived 45 minutes late after being profiled and harassed by police. My knife was snatched off my person and confiscated because they were expecting “civil unrest.” We then disembarked from the sky train and started chasing after the protest, along with several swat vans just blocks away. The protest moved quickly, more like a tornado, leaving news stands and dumpsters in its wake. We finally caught up and joined in. There were around 200 of us. The black bloc is leading as well as tagging nearby cars and signs. Ripping down newsstands and eventually breaking plate glass windows. It was quite the sight to behold. After the window incident the police got a little fed up and the riot cops were brought in. Hundreds of armor clad officers with batons and AR-15’s surrounded us. For the next couple hours we played a game of cat and mouse; trying to stay one step ahead of the police line. Some small clashes broke out and our numbers started to dwindle. Eventually we were cornered and decided it would be a good time to have a dance party in the street. I sat on the side lines. This went on for a good 20 minutes or so. When two swat vans quickly came up behind us, unloaded their cargo of donut guzzling pigs and proceeded to surround the street party. Forty or so people were temporarily detained and then released. This was the end of the march.
We decided to get some lunch following all the excitement and then went to the library for some rest and relaxation. We were to come home this night but before doing so we ran into yet another group of riot cops profiling and detaining a group of individuals’ downtown. Finally before catching the bus, we watched Joe Biden’s motorcade drive by. This was about all the spectacle I could handle and headed home to a real bed and some peace of mind.
Now that I am sitting here typing this, I have had some time to think through the tactics used. It becomes very clear that protests are scripted events. This is in the sense that organizers spend months preparing for a single day, or perhaps a week. These protesters are then met with an oppressive police force, and you can usually count on property damage and police brutality. Once all this occurs many will loose sight of the cause and its ramifications. Mainstream media doesn’t help the matter either. So for effective organizing to occur we must shift our tactics. Whatever actions we embark upon must be sustained, for many weeks, months, or years. This is the only way to achieve change. Protests are a way to voice opposition, not stop an event from occurring. If someone was to stop the Olympics, the last tactic they would use would be a protest. We all need to stop and think about the long term. Protests serve short term interests, people feel good when they protest, however, very little change occurs after such an event. Long term organizing means diverting that energy into forming autonomous communities, capable of sustained efforts.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Ending Abuse: Women Taking Action
Most of us are familiar with the term “patriarchy,” meaning in one simple definition: men dominating women in social and cultural systems, but can we look further and question the foundations of a civilization that has been governed by this force for centuries? Can we imagine a culture where this word doesn’t even have to exist?
Patriarchy has been normalized, encultured within us all, but several hundred women in the northern Uttar Pradesh states of India have been normalizing something which combats this force: resistance.
They call themselves the ‘Gulabi Gang,’ meaning ‘Pink Sari Gang,’ and the mere utterance of the name sends chills down the backs of abusers. These women are looking further, questioning the presence of patriarchy and creating an army of women that have been abused, seen abuse, or feel the abuse around them on a daily basis. They are committed to protecting women against violent husbands, corrupt leaders, and the social injustices that arise in a region where most think male dominance is the way of life.
The uniform is simple: a pink sari and a stick large enough to do some serious damage. The women in pink have literally thrashed men who have beaten or blackmailed their wives, and by doing so have instilled a sense of fear in The Man when it comes to female abuse.
Let us learn something from these women. We cannot wait for others to fight these battles – we must organize within ourselves. Too many people are wrapped up in this toxic and chillingly convincing culture to even notice that there is a battle to be fought in the first place. So let’s get some passion, and grab our sticks.
Patriarchy has been normalized, encultured within us all, but several hundred women in the northern Uttar Pradesh states of India have been normalizing something which combats this force: resistance.
They call themselves the ‘Gulabi Gang,’ meaning ‘Pink Sari Gang,’ and the mere utterance of the name sends chills down the backs of abusers. These women are looking further, questioning the presence of patriarchy and creating an army of women that have been abused, seen abuse, or feel the abuse around them on a daily basis. They are committed to protecting women against violent husbands, corrupt leaders, and the social injustices that arise in a region where most think male dominance is the way of life.
The uniform is simple: a pink sari and a stick large enough to do some serious damage. The women in pink have literally thrashed men who have beaten or blackmailed their wives, and by doing so have instilled a sense of fear in The Man when it comes to female abuse.
Let us learn something from these women. We cannot wait for others to fight these battles – we must organize within ourselves. Too many people are wrapped up in this toxic and chillingly convincing culture to even notice that there is a battle to be fought in the first place. So let’s get some passion, and grab our sticks.
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