April 2007 RantRhapsody

THE BROOKLYN RAIL PRESENTS RANTRHAPSODY #9
APRIL 22ND, SPIKE HILL, 7:30PM

This month marks the THIRD Brooklyn installment of our lovely, lively
and literately non-fictional reading series, and our FIRST foray into
that land of the hipster known as Williburg. We're setting up shop
for the next three months at Spike Hill, on Bedford between 6th and
7th (FYI, from here on out we plan on codifying our restlessness with
a revolving-venue-plan. After Spike Hill it'll be back in Manhattan
for a few, then again to Freddy's, etc...). Admission is free, beer is
cheap and food is plentiful. Please join us for the edifying,
amusing, anecdotal, analytical, political, polemical, and poignant
musings of the following angry and/or euphoric
writers:

Anthony Lappé, Guerilla News Network
Monica de la Torre, Rail poetry editor
Justin Rocket Silverman, AM New York/Time Out NY
Mark Read, Rail Contributor and RantRhapsody organizer
Sabine Heinlein, Rail Contributing writer
Theodore Hamm, Rail Editor


NOSTALGIC THOUGHTS ABOUT RECLAIM THE STREETS: IN THREE ACTS
Mark Read

ACT I
Scenario for a day in the street.

On the morning of the 26th two van/trucks are loaded—one with large stereo equipment (including tape deck in case of pirate broadcast failure), and one with broadcast gear and turntables. They are in “position” about 5-10 blocks away from action site (site “A”) by 1:30pm (though not too near eachother). Each of these vans should be reachable by cell phone.

At site “A”, or nearby, with a cell phone, is Pogoman, along with a small group of 5-6 people, and tripod gear. They are the only people near the action site ahead of time, and will be responsible for detecting any unwanted police presence. Pogoman and only Pogoman is capable of calling it off. See contingency “A” for what happens if he does.

Approximately 30 street-takers- the “crew”- are congregated in a small park one subway stop away from site “A.” Desert Lox is there to guide them with a cell phone. These folks are responsible for getting into and staying in the street during the time it takes the crowd to arrive (hopefully no more than 15 minutes).

Meanwhile, at Union Square (site “B”), with access to multiple subway lines, a crowd is beginning to gather. They are colorfully dressed, they carry banners and signs, they are drumming and making noise. 300-400 policemen with paddy wagons are there to greet, forming a semi-circle around wher the crowd is gathereing. There is also a crew of about 30 cyclists within this crowd. If the police begin to arrewst or molest the crowd to an unacceptable degree, the crowd must be moved immediately. See contingency “B.”

When the marshals determine that there are enough people gathered at site B, and that everything is safe to go forward with the plan, a number of things happen in quick succession. First, they begin to distribute through the crowd small sheets of paper which have written on one side their legal rights and a contact # in case they are arrested. On the other side are written 3 sets of directions to 3 different party sites ( the three sites will include one downtown financial district location- ie the World Trade Court, one location way uptown if we can think of an interesting site up on the est side in the 80’s or 90’s, and one near Times Square). The reason for this is wso that if a sheet flass into the wrong hands, the cops still don’t know where to send the paddywagons. On the sheet they- the crowd- are tols to wait until they are told to go to #1, 2, or 3 (this will be done through a rapid whisper campaign. In other words, the truth as to which is the ACTUAL site will be revealed word of mouth, initiated by marshals).

So the leaflets are successfully dispersed. The crowd still doesn’t know where to go. Neither do the cops. Cue the cyclists, who ride off from the square in the opposite direction of where the actual party will be (to circle around a feew blocks later). Cue the sound truck to move towards action site (who will then call broadcast van) and call up to Desert Lox to move the crew so they can get a jump on the crowd. Make sure Pogoman is in plance and informed that thigns are in motion towards him. After these elements ar ein motion, begin the whisper campaign. Move the crowd. At about this point we should expect a squad car or two to be on the actionsite within a few, maybe 5 minutes. As soon as the action crew arrives at the action site, we redirect traffic and erect the tripod. The sound truck should be arriving momentarily, if it hsn’t arrived lread, which will be escorted into the now liberated street by the crew.

Within 5-10 minutes, before any significant police presence has arrived on the scene, the crew is joined by whooping crowds of revelers, who stream in to the street and begin to dance.

Contingencies:

A-The pigs are onto us from the beginning.
Let the crowd arrive. Meanwhile, radio van, sound truck, Pogoman and crew move to alternative site, within walking distance to Grand Army Plaza, at the corner of 5th avenue and Central Park South, accessible to N, R, and 6 trains. We call to Desert Lox to move his crew to the Plaza. Do NOT distribute flyers, or distribute alternative one which tells them to go to Grand Army Plaza and await directions. Or, most deviously, but also most perilously, distribute the flyers and then tell the crowd to ignore them entirely and go to Grand Army Plaza, which would get the police to think that we were going to Times Square. First we send the bike group off in the wrong direction—downtown—then, at the appropriate time, we get the crowd to move to Grand Army Plaza. Once we’ve regrouped we tell them where to walk (ie walk east on 61st street until you fid the party). Marshalls helping to lead them, along with the band. Before we’re ready to send the crowd, the action crew has been setting off towards the action site in groups of 5-10 people to come to Pogoman. The street gets taken moments before the crowd finally arrives.

B- The pigs begin seriously harassing and/or arresting the crowd before we’ve gotten a chance to do anything.
Immediately instruct the crowd to go to Grand Army Plaza via the N, R, or 6 train, where we will regroup. Get cyclists to go there also, as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, we remain in contact with Pogoman. If he says there are no piggies in the house, then, after reassembling a decent-sized crowed at Grand Army Plaza, we proceed with the original plan, and head to action site A. Desert Lox and the crew are still one stop away. Again, send bikes off in wrong direction, to have them circle around momentarily. Cue sound truck and Desrt Lox, then move the crowd to site A. What happens with the flyewrs in this case? I’d say abandon them entirely, except that they have the legal palm card stuff on one side. So we could pass them out while we are moving to the Plaza, continuing to hand them out when we get there, then word-of-mouth the ACTUAL site (A) to them and send them along.

If Pogoman has, in the meanwhile, decided that there are piggish in the house, which we ought to know by 1:00pm for sure with a little smart scouting, then he, along with sound van and radio van will have already left and been in place for a party near the Plaza.

Suggestions please, but no mindless negativity, or aimless anxiety.

ACT II
Art Towards an End to Enclosure:

"Ultimately it is in the streets that power must be dissolved. When you come to challenge the powers that be, inevitably you 
find yourself on the curbstone of indifference, wondering "should I play it safe and stay on the sidewalks, or should I go into the street?" And it is the ones who are taking the most risks that will ultimately effect the change in society ." Text from an RTS T-Shirt, circa November 1998.

Background: The pursuit of global free trade policies (also referred to as neoliberalism, or the "Washington consensus") really began to build steam in the late 1960's and early seventies, and was fueled by the promise that such policies would lift poor countries out of poverty while simultaneously strengthening the U.S. economy. The results have proven anything but beneficial for all but the wealthiest in society, with the median U.S. wage remaining stagnant over the last 26 years while the income "gap" between the rich and poor in the U.S. and around the world has become a chasm. Peasants, farmers and small businessmen in the third world have been thrown into virtual destitution as their countries' natural resources have been sold off to multinational corporations in order to finance crushing debts left over from loans lent to vicious and corrupt third world elites. The rapacious and undemocratic nature of corporate capitalist institutions such as the World Trade Organization, the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank have recently come under close and critical scrutiny as a result of massive organizing and direct action undertaken by activists from all over the globe. We are winning. Failure is impossible.


May 16 1998 Birmingham, England: As the G7 (2) nations begin their annual meeting, eight thousand revelers and levelers Reclaim the Streets! In what they call a Festival of Resistance. Balloons, Banners and flags of black, green and red swirl the air. A massive sound system dominates the town square, and 8,000 bodies writhe and rave for hours before the police finally silence the speakers. Solidarity actions take place in 21 countries around the world. The meeting is nearly shut down.

June 18 1999: As the G7 meets in Cologne, Germany, 40,000 activists take to the streets and the subways. In one action, on a train filled with G7 ministers and beauracrtats, 150 people stage a "laugh in," to draw attention to the absurdity of the purported goals of neoliberal economic policies. In London, more than 10,000 are in the financial district all day long, performing ritual acts of symbolic destruction and engaging in a roving street battle with police. Newspapers report millions in property damange, and the worst police violence the city has seen in 50 years. 76 actions, many of them massive street raves, take place in 43 countries around the world. In New York City, 600 people throw a roving street party in front of and all around the New York Stock Exchange, an action that is met with an overwhelming police presence, but still manages to unsettle the everyday of downtown for hours before the streets are finally swept

RUMINATION: As we walked through block after block of bigger than life brighter than bright dazzlement, with blinking billboard's hawking everything from status cell phones to savage blood-sport to pop-culture cool to eternal beauty to pre-packaged truth to official history, suspicion gave way to conviction that this should be our next arena for symbolic subversion. It was here, on Good Morning America Way, at 43rd Street and Broadway that we would make our next stand. Where we would raise the tripod and play the music that would set free our collective energies of creative resistance; where we would exchange our gifts, join our hands, sing and dance in free celebration. The logic and beauty of the choice was manifest, as clear as the Disney store's massive Mickey billboard and MTV's giddy crowds of teenagers waiting to catch a glimpse of the latest pitchman for "alternative" style.

Text from flyer for Reclaim the Streets! NYC November 26th action:
"Around the world a movement is building. An international tribe of insurrectionists has begun to shake off the foundations of authority and control. Massive sound systems, pirate radio raves, puppets, drummers, thousands of dancing feet are shaking off the chains of power. On November 26th, in concert with others in Seattle, in London, in Geneva, in Toronto, in St. Louis, and in NEW YORK will DANCE where the profiteers and their police states tell us we should not. As finance ministers and corporate bureaucrats meet in Seattle on November 30th under the banner of the World Trade Organization to continue their assault on the environment, labor, and human rights, thousands of students, farmers, environmentalists, and labor activists will initiate a massive street protest to SHUT THEM DOWN!

We in New York, acting in support, will take to the streets to CELEBRATE our own defiance! As they strive to put profits over people and a price on everything under the sun we will show them the bodies and the rythms of resistance. We will not be stilled. We will not be penned in. We will not be silenced. We will dance. IN THE STREET! On this Buy Nothing Day we will create a spectacle of sharing and giving and LIFE WELL LIVED that will not soon be forgotten. Come to the south end of Union Square (14th St. and broadway) at 2pm, radio in hand, to join the festival. RECLAIM THE STREETS!! Gonna be late? Don't! But if you are call the hotline for latest info: 212.539.6746, and check out the website at http://reclaimthestreetsnyc.tao.ca"

November 30th, 1999, Seattle WA: Smoke and tear gas mingle in the late-autumn air of downtown Seattle. The dying flames of a dumpster fire lick the paint off that overturned vessel of refuse. A man people are calling Captain America, wrapped in the flag with an old bike helmet painted in matching colors, ski goggles and a megaphone stands atop this great green smoking podium, encouraging and cajoling the throngs of people in the street. He is joined there by 4 or 5 comrades-in-arms. A drumcorps marches under the banner of the black flag, clad in green and wearing gas masks for their protection. They have been snapping their snare drums and clashing their cymbals amidst the worst of the mayhem throughout the day. Two women and a man furiously bang away at large conga drums. Eyes half-closed, they are deep in the trance of rhythm and oblivious to the writhing, gyrating, frenzied bodies whose movements accompany their playing, transforming the street into some kind of neo-tribal dance happening. Hundreds of police in full Darth Vader death suits stand astride armored para-military vehicles, rifles in hand as helicopters circle surreally overhead, waiting for the crowd to disperse or for the next order to attack. The people weather each barrage of tear gas and concussion grenades with a kind of courage that is both familiar and strange and truly inspring. The sun is shining, a rare thing for a November day in Seattle. The shops are closed. Spirits are high. The WTO ministerial is on indefinite hiatus and we aren’t going anywhere.

April 16 2000, Washington DC: The day begins before dawn, as we are trying to get into the streets before the police begin to lock down the entire area around capitol hill. We pile into vans and trucks, dressed in tuxedoes and foam, shark-fin hats, with lapel buttons declaring IMF=Loan Shark. I’m in the van with the Hungry March Band, who will serve as our pied pipers for the day, enabling us to gather crowds at will and move in unison through those sterile, dead and deadening DC streets that comprise, quite literally, the corridors of power. We form our parade and head down Pennsylvania Avenue, black-bloc in tow. We cross L, then head down the notorious K St, lobbyist lane, the locus of corporate and state collusion. No cops so far. I don’t remember when we first saw the blockades. I think it was on 20th Street as we were heading south towards the World Bank building. A surge of excitement, fear, pride, and surprise (that we'd made it that far) surged through our crowd: Home at last! There was a standoff between a line of riot cops and about one hundred demonstrators, who were blocking off a key intersection, trying to prevent IMF delegates from getting to their meeting. We lined up in the space between and put on our best show, a boisterous, satirical rendition of Mack the Knife, accompanied with a rockettes-style kick line.. It all went off as planned: Seventy-five people dressed in tuxedoes and shark-fin hats providing a contextualizing spectacle and song for the masses and the media. We gave water, lollipops and scrumptious snacks to the brave kids holding that line, then moved on to the next and the next, our numbers swelling and our confidence rising with each liberated city block.

As long as no Stalin breathes down our necks, why not make some art in the service of...an insurrection?" -Hakim Bey

ACT III
Nostalgic Thoughts on RTS

Looking at these texts and reflecting on the moment that they describe from the vantage point of today, I feel, in many ways, as anyone might expect to feel: Wistfully nostalgic; charmed by the yearning naiveté, saddened that the moment has passed, and proud to have been a part of it.

But something else also emerges, something less sentimental in nature, something both less and more personal, more specific. In looking at them I am reminded once again that both our ideas and our actions were shaped and influenced by a history, a particular and distinct thread of history; a thread that is indicated to me when I re-read that text from that old RTS T-shirt and recall our confusion over its authorship. Was it the work of some London RTS propagandist, as originally assumed, or was it in fact the writing of Abby Hoffman, as we were subsequently informed? This confusion is revealing; it points backwards, towards a lineage, an ancestry of thought, perhaps even towards a kind of specific social genome of refusal and resistance; of creative and defiant joy. Those words, it seems to me could just as easily have been written by Guy Debord, or some other radical Parisian kid in 1968, or just about any kid anywhere in 1968 for that matter, or Huey Newton, or Angela Davis, or Emma Goldman, or Joe Hill, or a leveler, or a digger, or a Gnostic, or a zealot.

There is a pulse that cascades in rhythms down through history, ever-latent, always present. It seeks to awaken in us an urge, an imagining, a turning away from the foreclosed possibilities that are presented to us, away from the deadened textures of a spectacularly conscripted, and predetermined future, and towards what I can only describe as a hopeful impossibility, the realm of a liberated imagination. The understanding that my compatriots and I played a part in this history, that we felt and responded to this pulse, as so many others before us have, and yet others will, is no small comfort to me. It is, in fact, everything to me. This understanding helps me sleep at night, helps keep me dreaming of future impossibilities and seeking unexpected insurrections.