Wall Street protesters: We're in for the long haul

[Ideologue]

Except for the being knocked over by a ladder bit.

Well, no job is *perfect*.

General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union?  Well, until the layoffs started in 1991.

[Razgovory]

Raz hates Libraries.

Because of that girl who wouldn't date you, right?

Yep.

[crazy canuck]

Well, it seems that they're going to send in the Cossacks to disperse the Vancouver occupation.  I approve.  Hopefully many hippies are slashed.

Not likely.  But it may come to that.

[Neil]

Except for the being knocked over by a ladder bit.

Well, no job is *perfect*.

General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union?  Well, until the layoffs started in 1991.

Too many meetings with those boring fucks in the Politburo.

[Neil]

Well, it seems that they're going to send in the Cossacks to disperse the Vancouver occupation.  I approve.  Hopefully many hippies are slashed.

Not likely.  But it may come to that.

Depends.  I'm under the impression that your mayor doesn't have the moral courage to have the protesters crushed, and VPD showed during the riots that they're utterly incapable of handling anything of the sort.  If the lunatics turn violent, the army is going to have to be called in.

[garbon]

Oakland Liberation Front!

[garbon]

Lengthy but a bit about participating in a protest from someone I sort of know:

For the first few weeks of Occupy Wall St, I felt this building excitement. For quite a while, part of me didn't believe that revolution was possible in the United States, with most of us suffering from kynicism. [Quick summation: The idea that we are aware that we are being deceived but do nothing about it... perhaps because we assume we are powerless.] And also because I do believe that the minute people actually try to rise up, accusations of treason could always quash a movement. But then, a few weeks ago, something actually started to happen, and it seemed that the Man didn't know exactly what to do about. I was reading about it every day, but still couldn't quite get myself down there. I even attempted to write a blog entry classifying all of my many excuses for not going, but it sounded so whiny that I chose to abandon it. (I know... imagine how whiny is must have been!)

    But then, I knew I had to go. How could I have this blog that is basically a drawn out "I am the 99%" statement, with a lot less tragedy than many of the other people out there, and sit on the sidelines of the movement?  I always wrote about materialism and direct action because of my guilt of being an ivory tower idealist, and now was the time for me to act on my words.

    So, I went, with a couple friends, and weaved my way through the tarps and tents. I donated 50 cents for a copy of the Occupied Wall Street Journal. I stared at the books in the library. And I felt tense and out of place. Disturbingly anxious really, standing on a precipice and not knowing if I belonged further back, further down or in the air in between. So, I said, "Screw it," and went to the next workshop: Non-violent Communication. I wasn't sure what I would learn, but I had to know if I would feel more comfortable talking to the people who were giving up the comfort and safety of home to give me a voice - rather than just staring at their feet.

    The workshop mostly focused on one-on-one conflict resolution, and I definitely learned some things about how to talk to people with different ideologies without increasing antagonism, but more than anything, I was overcome by the earnestness of all of these people from so many spectrums - from hippie dippie to long island house wife - who had come from all over the country to be a part of and support the movement. When I spoke, their caring didn't feel fake or forced, and I was disturbed by all of the goodness that was around me. And I felt maybe that wasn't quite where I belonged because I'm not that giving.

    But I still needed to settle that anxiety about where I would stand when the revolution began... where I stood if it had actually already begun. A friend told me that he had been brought to tears at general assembly meeting; so, I made plans to go back for one. And then Occupy Oakland was attacked, and a march was planned for the night I planned to attend the assembly. From what I could tell, the assembly that night was a bust. The facilitators were desperately trying to keep the meeting down to 2 hours, but democracy is not that easy, and every thing felt bogged down by rules and bureaucracy.

    As the march began, a small string of people began to march around the park, beating drums and chanting: "Oakland is New York. New York is Oakland." among other things. Again I found myself stuck between worlds and feeling nervous and fidgety. One, do I abandon democracy for the march? Yes, that felt pretty easy; I was as shocked as everyone else about tear gas and rubber bullets being used on peaceful protesters - especially after the pepper-spraying controversy. So, I got up from my seat at the meeting and moved towards the sidewalk.

    I, then, found myself standing with two of my roommates, idling between where the assembly was still taking place and the stream of people still marching around the park. After a long awkward silence that I didn't understand, one roommate told us that she didn't think that she wanted to march; she was still feeling uncertain about her place in the movement. "But you know... you guys should go...." In that moment, I imagined myself losing my chance to take action, going home with my friends so that I wouldn't be alone in the dark streets taking part in a potentially dangerous action. I saw myself doing what I'd been doing for weeks... waking up slightly hungover from a night of forgetting and reading article upon article about what action had been taking place while I was stewing in my own hopelessness - using other people's bravery to make myself feel better about the world. Anyway, I know I'm waxing a lot, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't just go home. While I had been imagining my potential regret, we had fallen back into another awkward silence. I broke it with, "I can't miss another action," and ran down the street to catch up with the tail end of the march. And to my pleasant surprise, as I got down the block, I heard my second friend yelling after me. She had just been hoping that the first would change her mind.

    As we started out, I felt trepidatious, but happy that those in Oakland would be able to see a physical manifestation of our support and anger. Stuck in my own thoughts, it didn't feel right shouting, "New York is Oakland." After all... it isn't, but there were other chants I was able to echo... until the energy grew as we ran and sprinted to avoid police barricades. I felt camraderie and freedom, and the thrill of pushing myself through my fear of authority. As I was running, I thought about all the people who looked on us a group of silly, directionless kids blocking traffic and making too much noise, and I realized that even if that were true, it was OK. It was more than OK! Because that was exactly what I needed - to transform Broadway into my playground, as opposed to the street that reminded me of what I couldn't afford; to hear the joyous honks of MTA bus drivers and know that they were with me and just not the people who take my exorbitant fare; to actually know through experience that I didn't always have to feel trapped. I felt real hope. Not just a belief that possibly in my next paycheck I would make enough to pay my rent, but a belief that if we kept running, we could actually make the world make sense.

    Then, I came off of the mob high and felt exhausted and hungry. But some small kernel of hope has stayed with me, and I really think it might be possible that all us kids who were taught to believe in social change but not how to fight for it, might figure it out and bust some shit up. It occurred to me while I was writing this that Obama ran his campaign on "Hope." I never really paid much attention because how can one politician offer a nation hope. But to be a complete sap now... I think... or maybe hope that if each of us can have hope in our own individual (and group) power, we may really be able to affect change.

[Neil]

What a douche.

[fhdz]

I had a dream early this morning that I was with a group Occupying a Taco Bell.

[grumbler]

I suppose if one is used to living in a "pretty fucked up" society where carrying guns is commonplace one would tend to think as you do.

Yep.  Where tolerance is generally considered a virtue, society doesn't freak out when people do things different from other people.  That may be "fucked up" by the standard of emo societies, but who wants to live in a society where people who have a gun or a veil or a turban causes massive consternation?

I'll take door #1, Alex.

[Razgovory]

You really want to compare wearing a gun with wearing a veil or turban?

[Darth Wagtaros]

It could be a fashion piece.  A few years ago it was small dogs. Next year it could be tricked out Lugars. 

[crazy canuck]

You really want to compare wearing a gun with wearing a veil or turban?

Apparently in Grumblers world carrying around the ability to kill someone is a sign that your society is tolerant.

[Razgovory]

Certain amounts of intolerance are expected.  For instance we don't tolerate murder and rape and other crimes.  I don't care for someone coming to a protest rally with pistol on his hip for the same reason I wouldn't care for someone going to a rally with a Molotov cocktail.

[Berkut]

You really want to compare wearing a gun with wearing a veil or turban?

Apparently in Grumblers world carrying around the ability to kill someone is a sign that your society is tolerant.

That is just a rather bizarre interpretation of what he said.

Surely you can see that what he said was that carrying around a gun does not make you tolerant, but recognizing that some people DO wish to carry around a gun is tolerant.

Tolerance is all about letting other people do things even when you think there isn't a good reason for it.

Now, I am not sure I agree with grumbler that the mark of a tolerant society includes toleration of people who carry guns (I suspect that you can have generally tolerant societies with or without pistol packing people), but at least arguing against what he is saying.