For the Presidential inauguration I attended the D.C. Anti-War Network rally from set-up in Malcolm X Park to its terminus at McPherson Square, and then headed to 14th and Pennsylvania, one of the places admission to the parade route viewing area was controlled. I attended neither as a bona fide protester nor as a journalist, but as a volunteer lawyer observer for the Law Collective. And I was effective as neither bona fide protester, journalist nor lawyer observer. But I had a camera, so hopefully can yet serve as diarist.
I have protested, and will not examine here the development of my disillusion with the spectacle and frustration at the loss of conscientious nonviolence. My interest in and support of protest activity continues, despite despair over its popular tactics and efficacy, so it was finally my pleasure, as a freshly-minted lawyer, to go to attend in an alternate role.
The task of the lawyer observer is to find out who gets arrested on what charges and where they were taken. However, I did not witness any arrests, and so performed little service to the Collective.
There were organized events at the DAWN protest. I would refer you to credible journalists in credible journals for the roster and an objective assessment of the performances, speeches and installations at the rally, but this is America. Although there were such journalists there, published coverage is sure to be scarce. Check the strident liberal wires, adding salt to taste.
The coffins are a good example of a strong political expression swayed and ultimately hijacked by the mob, not that the peaceful organizers didn’t get their photo-ops.
DAWN, or affiliated organization, had cardboard coffins, one, one must presume, for each American soldier killed in Iraq. They were assembled by volunteers, with the ultimate design of having them all aligned in sober files, each covered by a black cloth and flag, in somber evocation of the famous unpublishable photos of coffins coming back from abroad. The flags were of one of those cloths that has a high content of cheap plastic.
They started in pretty good rows, but as people gathered and more volunteered, the files got a little wonky. For photos of the completed work, please look elsewhere (the money shot).
Of course, while it will not be broadcast, the revolution will be fiercely merchandised. Available here are a variety of pins, buttons, stickers and tracts. This table was affiliated with the organizers of the rally, according to the salesman, and all proceeds, or some convincing proportion thereof, were to be used somehow to support good activities. Many free-lance button and sticker vendors were also in evidence, the Zendik folks and the various communist and socialist and independent periodical presses with tracts and manifestos.When you go to the Counter-Inaugural Event, you should anticipate a rhetoric-rich experience, but I was surprised nevertheless to hear this sales pitch at the DAWN agit-prop table: “We’ve also got a bunch of copies of the U.S. Constitution, which, as you know, is not too popular around here these days. Get your copy while you can.” He gestured with a stack of pocket constitutions.
Recognizing them, I asked, “Isn’t that the Cato Institute edition of the U.S. Constitution?” referring to the libertarian think tank with significant Republican ties, but the irony was lost.
There were speakers and performers and protesters and banners. There was rhetoric. A speaker from Haiti praised the congregation of – I’m not making this up – “human rights militants and peace activists” and urged continued activism. Militants for peace, indeed.
People who looked like the soi disant black bloc of anarchists were there. I have great curiosity about these people, avowed anarchists. They are easily recognizable, by their punk clothing, pocket-knife haircuts, their covered faces, helmets and backpacks, by their cohesion in tight groups, and general sense of readiness to riot. You can also tell they’re around – and planning to tussle with police – by the smell of vinegar, a countermeasure to tear gas. They stick together like skinheads, hence, I suppose, the moniker “bloc,” and have the aura of brownshirts.
Many of these vinegar-smelling, bandito-tied bandana and goggle porting activists had the sigil of the International Red Cross, that is, a red cross, emblazoned on their clothing, front, back and shoulders. Generally these were tape or paint or ink red crosses, although in some cases they wore full surplus store flak jackets with bands and webbing for medical instruments, the red cross real official looking.
I have looked into the law of war by which it is impermissible perfidy to raise arms while claiming protected noncombatant status under the red cross, and had a hard time reconciling the notion of these people, clearly intent on bucking crowd control measures – intent on mayhem – acting non-nonviolently under the symbol of peaceful action in war zones, while reviling their president’s war crimes. Tit for tat. These were not bearing arms, and many did later turn out to be able to render basic first aid.
There were police, who at this time, as throughout the day, comported themselves exceptionally, in the face of a great deal of personal antagonism and animosity.
These guys waited patiently to clear the way down 16th street for us.After the invective from the podium ended, volunteers were mustered to carry the flag draped coffins to the McPherson Square rallying point, and the march began.
The stream of protesters emerged from Malcolm X Park onto 15th Street and went across Euclid to get to 16th, before heading south. Although planned road closures for the inauguration itself have been widely published for ages, it appeared that there was little awareness of this march, as there were many irate drivers who had intended to cross or even drive upon 16th Street.
One man, stopped southbound on 16th Street by police, got out of his car as the black bloc passed, and shouted unsympathetic slogans at the protesters: Give up, go home, accept defeat, quit whining you pansies; that sort of stuff with aggressive postures and gesturing. Naturally, this caused some of that noble guild of anarchic idealists to break off from the tide of their comrades and go back to confront this guy. But before they could get there – take my word, neither the five militants nor the angry driver would have tolerated fighting words and gestures from the other side – the cop who had blocked traffic, got between them and remonstrated with the man, with a “why do you have to go and do that” posture; noise from the rallying crowd called the anarchists back to join the march.
At Florida Avenue, as I passed I heard another cop blocking more traffic tell a frustrated driver, “…the inconvenience, but they have a permit, so they’re going to walk.”
At U Street, protesters with “U.S. Hands Off Iran” banner. There is a Starbucks at this intersection. While many protesters did rejoin the march with venti lattés, to their credit, none of the black bloc were seen with fru-fru espresso beverages. Many more Starbucks opportunities further down the route.continue-->