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Michael Carter Sports Editor I had been dreading the war for some time. A couple of my friends and acquaintances had been deployed to the Middle East, and when I saw the bombs dropping on CNN, I began wondering if they were alright. It was a sobering experience to hear about the first of the inevitable combat casualties, and I could only somberly ponder about the Iraqi civilians who were surely dying as the skies above Baghdad burst. Making matters more difficult on my emotions, although I respected and supported our soldiers, I strongly disagreed with the war. My backpack displayed a "No Iraq War" button as I toted it from class to class. It was trying on my conscious to simply maintain my position, and I grew frustrated. So when my friend "Kim" (which is a pseudonym, for she wishes to remain anonymous) invited me to an anti-war demonstration at the Seattle Federal Building March 23, I agreed to attend. Not knowing quite what to expect, having never been to a protest before, I anxiously drove downtown. As Kim and I went by the Federal Building on Second Street, she flashed a peace sign to the protesters and said to herself, "I'll be with you guys soon." The event was a lively affair, which consisted of several hundred people occupying the courtyard of the building. Kim quickly found several of her friends and greeted them, while I made my way around the various information tables toward a knot of demonstrators listening to a speaker. "Showing up today gives you the responsibility to find out what you believe," she said as a rambunctious man in a wheelchair holding a "Stop Bush and the Gestapo" sign tried to complement her words with a spout of anti-war rhetoric. "Why are we here?" she continued. "We're here because of love." A fellow in front of me wearing an American flag scrawled with anti-war slogans clapped his hands.
As the activities unfolded, police officers in intimidating riot gear dotted the base of the Federal Building, holding heavy clubs, asserting that they meant business with their stiff postures and watchful eyes. A protester sat 10 meters in front of them in a cross-legged Buddhist position in a form of peaceful opposition. When I walked by him he put his hands together and bowed his head. While Kim snapped some photos, I stood shivering in the chilly afternoon watching all of the hubbub, feeling a bit out of place. However, I soon found my calling when she returned with a couple of picketing signs, and we headed toward the street, waving them about. Cars zipping by would frequently honk and flash peace signs, which we would eagerly return. A rhythmic beating of a drum circle began behind us, and I finally began to have a profound sense of fulfillment. The feeling gave me satisfaction; I was actually trying to do something instead of depressingly holding my head in my hands during nightly news broadcasts of the war. I was with people who, regardless of their belief whether the war could be stopped, cared enough to openly express their discontent with circumstances. This was something we had the power to do. Across the street from the protest, a small group of pro-war activists had gathered, challenging our demonstration. Kim and I watched them periodically as we bobbed our signs up and down, and I began to appreciate their presence as well. They were, despite their inverse of beliefs, like me: people who weren't satisfied on leaving their views idle. While picketing on the street, I began to notice metro vanpool vehicles passing by at an irregular frequency. Behind their tinted windows, the vague silhouettes of police officers could be seen. The police presence across the street also began to grow. Suddenly, a middle-aged man who was carrying a bottle of ketchup, hopped over a barricade separating the demonstrators from the street. He then ran to the middle of the road, dumped ketchup over himself, and laid down in the street, resembling a war casualty. In a flash, the tinted windowed metro vans rushed toward the man and emptied out a dozen cops who quickly subdued him. Moments later a woman (later identified by protesters as the man's wife) climbed over the barricade waving a sign and was promptly arrested by four police officers, while Kim photographed everything. Demonstrators responded by packing the sidewalk and jeering at the police. "Shame on you! Shame on you!" they chanted. The street was blocked for several moments until the action dissipated. The situation settled down, but only for a short while. Soon after, the pro-war demonstrators crossed the street to challenge the anti-war folks, who responded by converging on them. The police immediately swarmed in, and I was shoved in a bus stop enclosure. As I made my way back to the sidewalk, a convoy of police bicyclists lined the street and removed pepper spray canisters. Fearing that I was going to be sprayed, I tried to look calm and benign so as not to provoke them and gently swayed my sign to and fro. Kim had disappeared in the crowd to photograph the confrontation. A few minutes after the cops separated the two sides, a group of young anti-war protesters walked out into the street hand-in-hand, and sat in a circle, again prompting a flurry of police action. The street was blocked off and the bicycle convoy returned. Local television media, ever vigilant for action, had cameras rolling as the kids were hauled off in police vans. Just then, the fellow I'd seen earlier wearing the American cape scrawled with anti-war slogans hopped the barricade and was tackled by six officers. As the police presence increased, protesters began asking some officers for their name and rank. After the street was finally opened up, the police became more aggressive and began intimidating demonstrators. A string of motorcycles drove by several times flashing their blue and red warning lights and the bicycle convoy rode directly through the protest behind Kim and me as we picketed. An officer even saw it fit to pull over a motorist who honked at us in support, and Kim once again darted away to take more photos. The driver was given a ticket for excessive honking, which seemed peculiar since cars had been honking at us all day. After leaving the demonstrations, I talked with Kim about the police, and we agreed that their greater presence and quicker resolve of force seemed to be a residual effect of the WTO and Mardi Gras riots. In my opinion, the police and the demonstrators are both guilty of several things. There appears to be an "us against you" mentality between the two sides, who don't show enough respect for one another's duties and rights. The police in particular seemed to provoke the protesters with an overkill of force and unnecessary actions, which escalated the demonstration which was benign and peaceful in nature. Their job is to ensure safety, not to proliferate aggression. Only one thing is for certain: both sides will meet again. © 2003 Shoreline Community College™ |
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