I'm publishing a series of my old journal entries as part of an attempt at introspective remembrance. They provide an interesting way to examine the ways I used to look at the world. Even if they do occasionally fail to be fully entertaining, keep in mind that these are not just valuable personal documents, but historical archives. Anyway, if I don't publish them on the web for all eternity, they'll just sit in my old files folder for another six years. Since I wrote these basically for myself so long ago, I didn't provide much context for the events. Based on what I can remember about the events surrounding these posts and the dates the documents were created on, I will be providing a running commentary in brackets to help guide the reader along.
I guess I just wasn’t down [with it - meaning violent protest] at the start of the whole D.C. deal. We had been in the city for a couple of hours, since seven in the morning I think, and I had already seen too many sketchy faces to be comfortable with the situation. There were men who had been drinking coffee and staring out the window for a half hour, no newspaper or anything, far too long and concentrated not to be up to something. [Paranoia was prominent feature of my subculture, one of which I never could really take seriously. In our affinity group meetings before the trip, we all went out to weird wooded areas around town to discuss our strategies in a way that discouraged informants and surveillance. I never could believe that our activities were truly subversive enough to warrant state oversight.] There were people on street corners who just looked out of place and it seemed as though even the large contingent of boy scouts converging on downtown weren’t on our side, as if they ever had been. [We viewed the scouts as pawns of the religious right and part of a long standing strategy to indoctrinate socially conservative youth into being even more stodgily that way.]
Thirteen hours each way to DC, music blaring, Jason and I driving most of the time, and only the CMC’s vast collection of audio tapes to keep our attentions focused on anything but those incessant dotted yellow lines moving by at eighty-plus mph. [Gainesville's own radical infoshop, the Civic Media Center, still operating today, lent out recordings of all kinds of radical speakers on all kinds of topics. I remember some of my favorites at the time featuring Noam Chomsky, Michael Parenti, and Russell Means. This was a huge source for my political education.] At least I learned something both ways on the two thousand mile trek. Anyway, I found out first hand that I don’t like car rides that long under any circumstances. We were already spooked when we saw an early battalion of the black bloc walking down the street in broad daylight, masked and all dressed up for the occasion. [The black bloc is a tactical formation used primarily by anarchists in anti-globalization protests. The wearing of all black clothes and masks heightens the feelings of anonymity for bloc members and fear factor for the police. This allows participants to engage in more violent and brazen activities of property destruction since it makes them less easily identified and apprehended. Moreover, they are more likely if caught to be de-arrested by other group members through all out physical scuffles and gladiator style combat with homemade weaponry. The black bloc was original a European invention, but it had shocked the American public a year before during the "battle of Seattle" in November 1999.] Due to their small size, numbering about ten, I lost a lot of confidence in our chances to upstart the inauguration. We saw very few people at all in the streets during most of the early morning hours, mostly just America’s Positive Christian Youth, MPs, under covers, and the regular D.C. badges. When we finally did make it to the convergence point, the bloc’s numbers, around maybe two hundred, surprised me. I really didn’t expect that kind of a turnout, especially after seeing the state’s police infrastructure looking so secure all around the city. Almost as soon as we got there, Nick and Chris, both in all black, masked and ready for adventure, found us and almost immediately we began to move.
That first march was sort of anticlimactic. After reading all of those narratives about black bloc tactics in mass demonstrations, I expected something wild. I still wasn’t convinced about what we were doing, what our objectives were, or what would happen along the way, so I stayed unmasked and on the outside of the bloc. The funny thing was that I had never known our objective, nor had anyone else. Whenever I inquired, one of the few people who actually did, I got vague responses that we were trying to disrupt the presidential inauguration, or at least protest. My confidence in normal protest tactics has flagged lately, through observation at SOA and through tactical readings, so I was left with the hope that we could “shut down” the proceedings, however foolish and far-fetched that might sound. [For us, the election controversy didn't much matter. No matter whether the Republicans or Democrats were going to claim the presidency, it was clear that the ruling classes were still going to be very much in charge. We wanted to embarrass them and destabilize their legitimacy.] I had heard rumors already that the amount of authority forces on the street that morning, coupled with our violation of both the 25-person maximum demonstration group and the anti-mask ordinance, that the procession would quickly be stopped. Maybe the cops didn’t care or maybe they didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of interrupting the violent bloc, but whatever the cause it was, we were never stopped. In fact, I witnessed zero arrests. A few shattered windows and relocated gov’t cars failed to evoke a response from the authorities. In fact, when the bloc finally came to a halt at a location near where Dubya would be sworn in later, the forces of cops, some on horseback, some in riot gear, didn’t make a move. They endured the insults and allegations being hurled at them by a particularly filthy mouthed demonstrator and didn’t even flinch when the bloc refused both to vacate the area or even communicate with the police. I was baffled by two things: the lenience of the police throughout the morning, and the fact that the bloc broke with their very successful tactic of always staying in motion and stopping only when they became surrounded by an overwhelmingly large police force.
The halt of the black bloc signaled our time to depart the scene. It’s fairly unsafe to stop moving in a situation like that one and perhaps the only thing that saved us was the media surrounding the event, maybe limiting the police’s range of action or their brutality at least. As we were leaving the scene, we witnessed something beautiful. The newly reorganized and renumbered Black Panther Party swooped down on the scene, fifty plus. Along with them came a small contingent of Communists and a huge mass of NOW delegates. Obviously all the other groups around the city were looking for a convergence point and they seemed to have found one in the mob behind us that the black bloc still comprised a large part of. Our party walked around the city for about an hour, scooping out our surrounding, getting the vibe of what was about to happen, and deciding what our next move would be. Somehow we ended up at the intersection of 14th and K, and there just happened to be thousands of people who found themselves there at the same time I guess. It was a pretty diverse crowd with members of all the groups I’ve already named involved along with a healthy dose of liberal Gore supporters to help beef up the gatherings overall numbers. Of course there was a guy from the bloc perched high on a lamppost waving the anarchist black flag. I took his example to heart and climbed a tree to get a better vantage point of the scene. There were lots of cops holding the crowds out of the streets, three rows deep at some spots, batons in hand, fear in their eyes. Occasionally the people would spill into the street, which I later found out was part of the parade route for later on, thus explaining why it was such a hot spot. When this happened, the police were obliged to beat the violators down and drag them into a circle where the paddy wagon would pick them up later. Of course, the man on the lamppost responded by egging the crown on, me included, and started some “we’re not violent, how bout’ you” chants to get the crowd riled up. The whole scene lasted for quite awhile and after I got enough of the view from above, I went down and pushed my through the crowds to find out what it was like on the front lines. I got there and I was standing in front of a huge black cop in regular gear with a baton, so I struck up a conversation. I heard some woman talking to him before I got all the way up front, trying to remind him and all of the other demonstrators that we were fighting for him too. I totally agree with that. I never let myself slip into the narrow-minded delusion that the people who do that job are my enemies. I realize they’re just people who have to play their roles. The same hated forces, namely state repression, capitalism, sexism, racism, and all of the other nasties that I don’t particularly want to go into here, are oppressing them as well. A lot can be said about the need for people to come together and stop drawing stupid lines at our job descriptions, which was exactly the point in this case. I told the guy that those were some really nice gloves he ha on and he had the decency to ask me if I envied him because I didn’t have any and my hands were cold. I told him that indeed my hands were cold, but I had no real use for loose, mobile digits at the moment, having no weapon or other object to wield. Furthermore, I told him that he needed his gloves to control his baton, which led into a brief discussion about my tonfas back home in Florida and their superior maneuverability as compared with his basic stick. I nodded to him and left, tired of the yelling and the tension of the situation, and proceeded to go take a leak in the bushes of one of D.C.’s finest parks. I felt good, relocated my entire group, and started thinking about what to do next.
Chris and Nick were out of their original attire and seemed like they were retiring for the day. Well, it turned out that the bloc had gotten sick of the corner and were moving on to find some more action. Actually they seemed to be running off and we really didn’t have time to think so we just ran after them. There was some more state car adjusting and general disruption, but overall, it seemed like the march from the end of Full Metal Jacket, essentially leading nowhere fast. Well, that sure didn’t last long, because as luck would have it, we ran smack dab into a long protest procession of liberals. [That was how we derogatorily referred to the Democrat partisans in attendance] You could say that we developed a vary beneficial symbiotic relationship. They provided the bloc with cover and the block provided them with a supplement to their tired 60s-ish protest tactics of signs and shouting. The bloc added some pizazz to their outfit, and the liberals really seemed to take a shine to them. We started off by blocking traffic for a while, actually I wouldn’t even call it traffic, it was more like blocking the bourgeoisie. Mercedes, Cadillac’s, BMWs, and all their probable Washington insider occupants were held in limbo by a bunch of harmless liberals and a party of people (not just men) in black. Even the homeless got into the act, which was truly refreshing. I think that all it took for those people to get active was a sign that maybe their oppressors were at a disadvantage for a moment. Liberals gave the peace sign to jeweled-up women shouting from behind their windshield while the two homeless men pounded on her hood to shut up and let them have their fun for once. And when we left, one of the two men shouted after us, “Aw man, come on and stay, these yuppies get what they want all day, everyday anyways”. But we had to leave because it wasn't our goal to try and get through to the parade route to hold signs and yell. Those were liberal tactics and we knew whose side we were on.
Still, I think even the liberals knew their plan wasn’t going to work under the current conditions. There was a checkpoint in the road a few blocks ahead that wouldn’t allow but individuals through after they had been searched and their signs confiscated. Without the black bloc’s presence, my best guess is that they would have been stopped in a mass at that checkpoint, holding their signs and yelling but not moving an inch without sacrificing their cause. Anyway, as luck would have it, we just happened to pass a construction site on our way down the road, and again through luck, we found what we needed. There was a huge metal platform on wheels just sitting on the side of the road with timbers all over it. So some of the bloc’s members commandeered it and turned the thing into a battering ram. There we were, running down the street in America’s capitol with a huge makeshift battering ram and liberals flanking us on all sides. This obviously made some people happy, because newfound joy in window smashing abounded and quite a few banks and jewelry stores got their shit busted. I’ll tell you, the sound of that much glass breaking is quite unsettling. Jaime and I were partnered and when a window got broken not but twenty feet from us, we both in the same motion ran back like ten paces. The time came when we were approaching the checkpoint and its fortified rows of police. It was fairly smooth; the front flank of liberals just opened up and out came the bloc, all out running with their ram. The police obviously were not prepared because they just took off running and the bloc’s ram just smashed through the police checkpoint and barricade, allowing the entire procession (maybe 1500 strong) through. So there we were, right where we weren’t supposed to be, on the planned parade route, looking forward towards the screaming fans on already lining the other side of the street and looking back on the baffled police checkpoint trying to regroup.
We stayed there for quite awhile, assessing the situation, mingling with old liberals who claimed to be proud of us, having spokes-councils [this involves a spokesperson from each affinity group meeting and discussing tactics], and just enjoying where we gotten so far. The general consensus at the time was that they would try to make us disperse before the arrival of the parade, due to our large numbers and anti-authoritarian demeanors being a huge security hazard and all. We basically ruled out tear gas due to the presence of old ladies and liberals' children that had been with us through it all. But the call to disperse never came, probably because the crowd did a fairly good job of dispersing by itself. Lots of the liberals thought they were too far away from the front lines and moved off down the street for better access. This left the bloc naked. To our good fortune, the good people at the National Organization for Women had a stronghold to our east and being very black-bloc friendly, they invited us too take our only route of escape and take cover in their massive numbers. So we did and we wound up in a crescent-shaped amphitheater surrounded by women and staring up a huge three-pronged flagpole, the largest symbol of the state on that side of the street.
So there we were, enveloped in NOW, waiting for someone to make a move or just take ACTION. And of course, someone did, they started going after the flagpole. This guy just broke the rope’s holder and started undoing the wrap to bring the flag down. The first to come down was the good stars and stripes, which was quickly was incinerated much to the bloc’s chagrin. Surprisingly, only two liberals really got upset. The fact that there were only two out of maybe two hundred says something about the state of current nationalistic pride in 2001 [a year later it was reinvigorated to absurd levels]. Those two citizens certainly weren’t going to challenge the bloc face to face but there was some loud shouting and cursing about what they were going to do, metaphorically I guess. Now, in the place of the American flag was an enormous black one. I took it as a sign that anarchy, the thing I heard so much about but seen so little of, was actually reigning in our nations capital during a presidential inauguration. But that didn’t seem to be enough for the occasion just yet. So they took down the D.C. flag and burned it too. That’s when riot cops stormed the bowl, throwing their batons at masked faces, pushing people back. But once again they were thwarted and expelled when the situation got too heavy. I ascertained that the full-grown man jumping off the flagpole’s platform and onto a uniformed policeman WWF style might have brought them to that very conclusion. So the desecration of symbols further escalated, next, all the nautical flags were removed, to be replaced with a red/black anarcho-syndicalist [anarchists who are more trade union directed] flag and the stars and stripes upside down. Once again the cops came, this time managing to take down two of the new flags, but once again they were repelled and the flags reinstated.
We heard word of an approaching detachment of the police moving in from the west and got out of the square for a little while. When we learned the reports were false, most likely due to intentional misinformation from infiltrators, we decided to move back into position. That left the block scattered and returning to the bowl in pieces. For some reason, Chris, running just in front of me, out of a disdain for technology maybe, decided to kick the thick wire running to the media box from their generator. This succeeded and most likely cut off an important live feed briefly. This was a stupid decision from a fairly smart kid, probably stemming from the high energy pulsating in the bloc. Chris ran ahead out of fear but disconnected himself from the bloc. Another BAD move. A second later, two under covers jumped out of the liberal stands in plainclothes, attacked Chris and successfully wrestled him to the ground. Soon they had the bloc standing over them, and I made the first grab. It was a crazy thing to do, but by that time I felt like I was a part of the bloc and under the circumstances (my little friend getting popped by two big pigs), it seemed there was some de-arresting to be done. I pulled one guy off Chris by his jacket only to be swung at and have my hat knocked off. I kept pulling, got him off balance, and as he turned to face me, I took my chance and knocked him down with a fast right hook to the jaw. I remember being horrified watching him fall and feeling for sure I was going jail for assaulting a cop. Still, as it was all happening, I noticed many other hostile faces approaching the scene. I didn’t like the situation one bit and I thought I had done my deed for the bloc and for my friend, so when another guy grabbed me by my sweater, I just darted back into the crowd. I stayed low so as to be too hard to pull back and I successfully escaped my first physical encounter with the agents of the state. Within a minute I had changed clothes, remasked, and gone back to the scene where I found no one. I had been crouching in the crowd while changing, not seen the outcome, and lost contact with the group. I only hoped that everyone had gotten away, especially Chris, whom I had delivered a fair chance by making his fight a one-on-one encounter. Right then, an explosion was heard and a cloud of smoke rose next to the flagpole.
I’m sure there wasn’t a soul in the place who didn’t think TEAR GAS, so the entire squad lost all unity and ran all different directions. Inexperience, lack of proper equipment (gas masks), and the unexpected happening were probably to blame. Turns out the stuff was from Halloween Adventures, condensed smoke bomb, $6.99, harmless. I know all this because I picked up the very charred package, the rest of the participants still want to know what the hell it was. The cops, in a long front, three deep, clad in riot gear with bulletproof shields, took this very suspicious opportunity to charge in. They pushed the bloc up against the wall, what was left of it, and proceeded to hold their ground while the presidential car rolled up the street. Well, I’m proud to say that the bloc came together once more that day, and I was a part of it. We don’t know where the smoke bomb came from and though most theories point to the disgruntled media tent, an infiltrator inside the bloc seems just as likely to me. Anyway, we were pissed and unified, and that didn’t bode well for the police force that was now pushing against a reunified bloc 5 deep. It didn’t take long, the cops lost ground quickly, some of them tripping over each other on their slow retreat. One unfortunate officer was too short and tried to keep pushing while ignoring the height of the barricade he was stepping over, injuring his testicles. It was a great moment, hearing the chants of , “no more cops on the sidewalk” and “whose streets, our streets!” At that very moment, the presidential car rolled by, accompanied by a mounted regiment to the front and rear and secret service jogging alongside. Their were cries of “not my president” heard far and wide as bulletproof windows were quickly rolled up. People jumped on each other’s backs, shouting and throwing water bottles, happy to have given the head hauncho a glimpse of what youth resistance looked like in the nation's capital.
The day was over, I walked all the way through the city on the way to DuPont Circle, opting out of the subway to get a better look the scene. I met some people on the hour-long trek back and told them I’d hope to see them in Quebec. [The next big antiglobalization protest happened in Quebec City later that year, but I didn't attend] I was exhilarated as all hell, adrenaline coursing through my veins in one of the purest forms I’ve ever felt. Eventually we reunited with the group, minus Chris, who had been beaten unconscious by six under covers for resistance and carried out of the action. No one was able to ascertain why he wasn’t rescued even though he was surrounded by the bloc, but I did hear about lots of flying fists and elbows injuring those who had made attempts. It was a happy but fearful time.
It snowed heavily that night, the first time in a month for the city, and the first time in three years for me. We got 40oz beers (which aren't sold in the south) and wiled out that night in the snow, pulling Jackass-esque stunts in moving dollies down steep hillsides. We had a blast the next day with an epic, no gloves snowball war on the national mall. Although we had managed to cause enough trouble to have campus security called the night before, we became docile inside the Smithsonian as lack of sleep began to really take its toll. The car ride home was long and drawn out, ending with me getting deathly ill on arrival in Gainesville. I was running a high fever and puking up everything all day long (10 times total) so that I missed classes and managed to pass out during Krishna lunch. All I can say though is that if this was the price I had to pay for the experience I had, I’d do it over every time. Just make sure that you eat vegetarian at Chinese restaurants on the highway. I was the only one who didn’t, and I was the only one who had to be taken care of the entire next day.
