Another report from the front, for those who weren't able to be there to appreciate the idiocy.
There we stood, trapped in one of the city-erected "free speech areas," block-long corrals, fenced in on four sides by portable metal barriers. The no-man's land between the sidewalk and the fences was heavily patrolled by New York's finest, lest any of the protestors inside escape. "If we let one out they'll all want to get out," said one captain to his lieutenant when asked whether it would be acceptable to breach policy on behalf of a pregnant woman who hadn't anticipated the trap. And, of course, he was right.
We'd all known that there would be only a rally, with no march, the police alternately claiming a march would be a threat to the UN or to the protestors themselves. And we'd known that the federal courts had upheld their right to ban antiwar marches, while still permitting the St. Patrick's Day parade next month. And we'd even known that "security" concerns led the police to refuse permission to erect Porta-potties for the rally attendees. No one could suspect these were signs of welcome, but few of us had anticipated how intrusive, obnoxious, and hostile our reception by official New York would be.
The day began by joining a "feeder march" of teachers marching from Bryant park (6th Ave & 42nd St) east to the rally area at 1st Ave and 51st St. (We walked along the sidewalks, where no permit was required.) As we came to 3rd Ave, police and barriers became increasingly visible. On 3rd there were dozens of police transport buses and vans. And the police started to block our way, directing us blocks to the north, through a gauntlet of barriers that occasionally narrowed us down to single file, while officers scowled at us, and grabbed people's signs. Apparently it is a violation of some New York City ordinance to have a sign with a wooden stick attached. Cardboard tubes are considered kosher, but my daughter, Timi, still had her sign grabbed from her so an officer could peek inside the tube to make sure no stick was concealed there. The man behind me at that point was told that another New York ordinance forbade him to hold his sign over his head. A man carrying a kayak paddle on his shoulder passed us near one of these spots, but he had no stickers or signs, so was presumably no threat to the city's peace.
North through these obstacles we walked, until we were finally permitted to move east to 2nd Ave, where we were herded north again. After 51st St, we tried to move east again, but were continually told that 1st Ave was full, and we had to walk still further north for access. At last we were able to move over to 1st Ave, at 61st St. And once there we were directed right into the holding pens, with the gates shut behind us.
A sound system was supposed to keep us informed, but it wasn't working. Radio broadcasts were supposed to be available, too, but in the shadow of the Queensboro bridge where we stood, no radio reception seemed possible. So we stood there for a while, wondering what to do. A scientist friend and I tried to estimate the density of the people, and figure out how many people were standing out on 1st Ave. He came up with about 60,000 people between us and the stage eight blocks south. Timi and I nibbled some lunch.
And I had time to assess the crowd. Like at the DC march last month, the crowd was astonishingly diverse: there were many people who seemed veterans of such actions, but they were far outnumbered by the ones who weren't. Witness to this was the way that chants would fail to take hold. Someone would start a chant: "One, Two, Three, Four, We don't want your oil war" -- or something less polite -- and only about a quarter of the crowd would join in. Most of the participants seemed vaguely embarassed by them, and they'd fade quickly.
After about half an hour, without being able to hear or see anything except the police and the hardware keeping us corralled, we decided to leave. The police had reluctantly relented for the pregnant woman, and were permitting a small trickle to exit the pens, on the condition that they leave 1st Ave forthwith. So we did, and what did we see on our return to 2nd Ave, but the very march that hadn't been permitted to happen. Apparently the feeder marches had outgrown the sidewalks, and taken over the street, though we observed several large puppet doves and banners that seem to me not to be the kind of equipment one packs just to stand around.
We watched this parade stream by for a while, and saw thousands more people pass, as well as several half-hearted attempts to break it up, with police cars, and horses. A line of officers with helmets and clubs across the street prevented our joining it, though, so we went down one side street, then another, until we found a way across 2nd Ave, where we found even more people occupying 3rd Ave. From my shoulders, Timi said the people stretched from the shoulder-to- shoulder police at 53rd St south as far as she could see. And crossing 3rd, we found thousands more jamming the sidewalks and spilling into the traffic on Lexington and Park Avenues.
The whole event was so fractured that it was impossible to tell how many were there, as it was impossible for most of the ones who attended to figure out what on earth was going on. I heard reports, and later saw news, of conflicts between protesters and police. Given the pointless repression to which we were subject, it's hardly surprising that conflict occurred. But I saw no one approach the event anticipating trouble. The organizers can be proud. New York should be ashamed.
A rally is a large and unruly event, whose messages are inevitably diluted by mismatching head-counts, anecdotes of anarchism, and conflation of the organizer and participant agendas: a place to stand up and not be counted. There are reasons to support a war in Iraq. There are also reasons to oppose one. The war is said to be fought in the name of our security, though I don't think it will make me and my family one jot safer from threats I fear more. But I marched with (well, stood around very close to) people opposed to war for any reason, and with people who feel less warmly about our country than I do, and I was happy to be there with them. A rally is not a place for nuanced argument about issues. But does such a place even exist? Where?
Our government operates with the consent of the governed, according to the documents and the Enlightenment tradition at its foundation. But where are the opportunities to register one's dissent? Our politics has been thoroughly professionalized, with professional advisors counseling professional politicians about professional matters. Amateurs don't compete in professional sports, and they don't participate much in politics, either. When otherwise famous amateurs do, they are usually sneered off the stage: "What does Susan Sarandon know about foreign policy? What does Martin Sheen know about governing?"
The devaluation of the amateur means the channels of dissent get ever smaller. Citizens are not expected to offer reasoned or informed testimony on genetically modified food, on international trade, on matters of economics, on environmental policy. And not on war, either. They are allowed to offer a "feeling" about what's going on, but what is this compared to the expert, professionalized opinion?
When no value is placed on our opinion, no work is expended to gather it. We have opinion surveys to take the average of measurable opinion, but which of us occupies that average defined by pollsters' questions? We have only the most limited ways for people to participate in the decisions that profoundly affect their lives. Write your congressman. Write a letter to the editor. Hope a pollster calls.
This is precisely what happened to us in New York: we were channeled and contained in order to be ignored. Forced to express our opinions in the crudest and least articulate way possible, we stood there in the cold in our pens, hoping to be heard by our presence alone. But I can find some solace -- and inspiration -- in knowing that just one block over, my companions met similar barriers, and overcame them.
Futility breeds alienation. When there is no hope for affecting the outcome, why bother? Our current President daily demonstrates his contempt for the public and its opinions, but he did not create the situation: he simply uses it to cynical advantage. We have allowed our leaders to believe that they can do as they please, that they can sell any policy. They may be right. But it still seems worth a try to persuade them otherwise.