Converging Against Capitalism

No topic divides the globo protest movement like the diversity of tactics question. Anarchist snake marches or well-marshaled parades of opinion? A brick through a window or a seat at the table?

And while the better-coifed protesters nearly always prefer the second set of options, even they'll concede that it's the first set -- tactics intended to disrupt and piss off the cops -- that gets the headlines. The demonstrations against the IMF and World Bank last month were no exception. By the time DC rush hour was over on Friday, the first projectile had been lobbed through the window of a Citibank office. By mid-afternoon, some 650 protesters, most part of the loosely organized Anti-Capitalist Convergence, would be in jail. The U.S. anti-globalization movement was back in the headlines.

Whose Streets?

"I'm so sick of these protests," a journalist friend complained to me as we walked through Adams Morgan, a formerly diverse DC neighborhood that is now home to interns from a diverse array of non-profits. "I feel like I'm under siege," he said. To protect the neighborhood from marauding globo-kids, city workers had removed all of the trashcans for blocks; urban detritus was already piling up. Minutes later, a caravan of police cars sped by, providing a shrill, high-speed escort service to someone important.

"That must be one of the delegates," my friend said, referring to the IMF/World Bank meeting invitees who now merit as much security as Dick Cheney. "They don't like to go outside without their taxpayer-financed escorts."

Their Streets

While the globalization protesters did succeed in getting back in the news -- no small feat for a movement that seemed all but washed up after Sept. 11 -- they didn't rack up many points with the locals this time. With posters wheat-pasted all over downtown, the Anti-Capitalist Convergence called on demonstrators to "shut down DC."

The ACC even had an image of what the ensuing chaos would look like: a fist choking off the metro roadway system. A powerful symbol, certainly, but perhaps not the best way to grow the movement, as they say. "Peaceful demonstration is fine, but if people can't get to their jobs, its disruptive," a DC construction superintendent told the Washington Post. "They should lock them all up."

Elsewhere in the city, another group of demonstrators was handing out leaflets to passing motorists, apologizing for any disruption. The massive police force brought in from as far as Chicago wasn't charmed by such niceties. The friendly kids ended up in jail too.

Knowing they were outnumbered, the Friday protesters had a strategy to bite back at the cops: fake 911 calls intended to divert the men and women in blue to mock emergencies all over the city. A victory of sorts for those who lamented the heavy-handed tactics of the police, but also a concession to charges that the demonstrators are from elsewhere, "invaders," as my journalist friend might say. Who else would intentionally divert emergency services away from Southeastern DC, one of the most notoriously under-served communities in the country? When Public Enemy rapped that "911 is a joke," and "Now I dialed 911 a long time ago. Don't you see how late they're reactin'?" I don't think Chuck D. and Flava Flav were complaining about fake calls from globo-kids.

By Saturday, cooler heads were prevailing. There were few of what the press terms "black-clad protesters" in the crowd; most were cooling their heels in the central DC lock up. The afternoon march from the Ellipse felt more like a parade or a pageant than a political protest. Somewhere near 17th and K streets, the procession stalled and the crowd began chanting that perennial favorite: "Whose streets? Our streets!"

"I feel a little embarrassed chanting this," my marching partner confided. "They're so clearly not our streets."