30.EP.27c:
July 23, 2002.
"The War Party, part 2:
Naked Hippies And The Meaning Of Democracy."
they kidnapped tony, where did they go
they went to get it done before he got too old
--Men Without Hats, "I Like."
And so.
Here we go:
The crowd is dense.
We've covered that.
I'm being pushed against
people. We've also covered that.
There's no room to move.
Covered that, too.
And here come the protesters:
Hippies, alterna-youth,
and born again Christian looking conservative freaks. Again.
Done that one.
And they're chanting something.
What they're chanting is:
"By any means necessary...."
And then there's a little
vagueness. Something gets mangled by the acoustics of the crowd.
And also by the fact that, really there aren't that many protesters.
There's what, like maybe 25? 30? And there about, what, a billion
of us-- the non-protesters, the curiosity-seekers.
And the media.
The media outnumbers the
protesters.
"By any means necessary...."
And I think they're saying:
"Build the movement."
Alex thinks they're saying:
"We will move it."
Alex's interpretation makes
a little more sense, sort of. Although I'm not sure what they're
going to move. The Gap, maybe? The horror of Capitalism?
The G8?
But, "We will move it" seems
to be more inkeeping with the 60s-ishness of the protesters. After
all, that seems like a rallying cry to something.
But, I'm still sure they're
saying: "Build the movement." And it would probably make sense that
they would want to build their movement. Especially since there are
only about 25 of them.
But, "We will move it" still
seems more likely.
So, anyway:
They're chanting, and pushing
their way through the crowd which is now so dense it's probably like having
the inhabitants of a small city in-between these two buildings downtown.
Behind me, the mall that
contains the HMV.
In front of me, the mall
that contains or contained the Smithbooks.
Above me is a walkway.
And it's hot.
And I notice that the crowd
has been, slowly, over the course of the protesters' approach, moving,
following the protesters. And now I'm standing under the walkway.
The leader of the group
reaches a centre point, right under the walkway. And then the rest
of the protesters follow suit. Soon all the protesters are there.
And there's also this guy
with gold-red hair, and a long beard that's been braided in two braids.
He also looks like he's trying to grow dreads. And like he hasn't
washed himself in a month. He's clapping his hands.
And the media swoops in.
The crowd moves in close.
And flashbulbs and videocameras
being held above the crowd.
The journalists aren't even
trying to align their shots. They're just holding their equipment
above their heads, hoping for the best.
We begin to smother the
protesters.
And it's very hot.
I notice that some of the
protesters are wearing Reebok shoes and Tommy Hilfiger shirts. Also,
some of them are wearing Gap products. I'm that close.
"That's probably to make
a point," says Alex.
I thank Alex and keep looking,
but now the group leader is motioning us back, trying to get breathing
room.
Someone shouts "Take it
off."
But we all back off and
wait for something to happen.
And once we all back off
they began walking in circles, dancing and chanting:
"This is what democracy
looks like! This is what democracy looks like! This is what
democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!"
A few people laugh.
Someone else shouts:
"Take it off!"
Then another one:
"Let's see some skin!"
But the protesters seem
oblivious to this.
They're just walking and
chanting:
"This is what democracy
looks like! This is what democracy looks like! This is what
democracy looks like!"
And then there are more
calls to strip.
More journalists taking
pictures.
A helicopter flies low.
Fuzzy black microphones
being held above the crowd.
And I look up. But
I can't see the helicopter because I'm under the walkway.
And there are an awful lot
of people.
And sweat is dripping down
my back, my arms.
And if this walkway were
to crash down....
If that helicopter were
to crash....
Crash into the walkway....
I look behind me, try to
plan an escape route, try to figure out if I can get away from this place,
back off, flee from these people just dodge and elbow my way to safety....
But I'm pinned here.
There are too many people.
And behind me, over by the
edges of the buildings, there are lines of police.
And in front of me, circling
protesters:
"This is what democracy looks
like! This is what democracy looks like! This is what democracy
looks like!"
And:
"Woo! Take it off!"
But there's no flesh.
Just a helicopter up there. And if I have to, if this walkway comes
down, if someone sets off a bomb, I will crawl over these bodies to get
to safety, I will use human shields, if it means I can get the fuck out
of here, and get the fuck out of here alive I will use human shields and
crawl over bodies I will use Alex as a battering ram if I have to just
get away get the fuck away....
And these people circling
and chanting here, I think they might actually think the crowd is out to
support them. They used the flesh to get them here, they used the
public's sense of prurience to get them out there, but they still actually
think that the people here actually support them, and that the people here
actually care. And between flashes of claustrophobia and crowdpanic
it his me how pathetic that is.
And someone else says:
"Stop dancing! Strip!"
And then the crown begins
to thin.
Journalists begin jockeying
for better angles.
"I wonder if this is just
a diversion," Alex says. And, just as he says it, another line of
protesters materializes. It's a much longer line, and much noisier.
And the journalists scramble.
And a roar explodes from
the crowd.
Flashbulbs, videocameras,
microphones swivel.
And my arms and legs are
slick with sweat.
And more commands to strip.
"I was right," says Alex,
"it was a diversion."
But the line isn't as long
as it initially appeared.
A trick of the crowd.
One of the protesters is
wearing a cardboard cutout of a picture of George W. Bush. Bush's
face has been altered to look like Mad Magazine's Alfred E. Neuman.
And there's a word balloon pasted onto the Alfred E. Bush that reads:
STUPID WHITE MAN
It's not as good as the heads,
but it's okay.
And all the protesters,
they're all singing "We shall not be moved." Or something like that
because the crowd is too loud and there are too few protesters, and so
their voices just do not carry. And my ears are ringing.
And at the head of the line
the protesters are carrying a big banner that says:
SAVE REDWOODS
STOP SWEATSHOPS
BOYCOTT GAP
And they're singing and chanting
and walking round and round and people are getting more and more bored.
And all the journalists,
trying in vain to get the perfect shot.
And then I realize that
they're calling themselves GAP-tivists and that's just so cloying and funny.
And then one of the leaders
stops and looks at us, and people are expecting nudity, and they're are
more cries of "Take it off!!!"
But the leader begins to
speak. Something about thanks for coming out for this, and it's really
great to be supported, and then he makes a speech but I can't hear it because
of the constant noise of the crowd.
And then another round of
"This is what Democracy looks like."
And even the journalists
are getting bored, now. And I'm not even feeling claustrophobic any
more.
And:
"This is what Democracy
looks like! This is what Democracy looks like! This is what
Democracy looks like!"
And, yeah. This is
what Democracy looks like-- at the beginning of the 21st Century:
A small vocal minority being mocked by an indifferent crowd. A minority
that doesn't even realize it's being mocked. A minority that doesn't
even realize that the people they believe have come out in support of them
don't support them, and in fact are only there to see some freaks.
This crowd is, at best indifferent,
maybe vaguely amused. At worse it is scornful and derisive.
A girl behind me says:
"What a bunch of losers."
Someone else says:
"Shave your armpits!"
And then someone else starts
speaking. And, also, I can't hear her. Her voice is just too
low, my ears are too wrecked.
And the heat is making my
head spin.
"Want to get out of here?"
Alex says.
"In a minute," I say.
"I still want to see if anything's going to happen."
And there's more singing
and more chanting and more speeches and this goes of for at least half
an hour, and lunch our is starting to end. And the crowd is starting
to get bored. And it's thinning, even more.
And no one's taking off
their clothes.
"Wanna go somewhere else?"
Alex says.
"Yeah." I look around.
Now if the walkway collapsed I'd have plenty of room to maneuver.
So we leave. And we
walk around downtown Calgary. And the motion of walking begins to
cool me, to dry my body.
And then we come back, about
an hour later. People are still making speeches, and the speeches
still can't be heard, and the crowd has thinned even more.
"I guess it's probably only
fair that they say what they're going to say before they take their clothes
off," Alex says. "I mean, they are there to make a political point
first, and get naked second, after all."
"True enough. But
they still need to learn how to project."
There's a girl wearing a
blue and orange tie-die t-shirt, and denim shorts. Handing out leaflets.
I walk up to her to get some literature.
She ignores me.
"Excuse me," I say.
"Can I have a pamphlet?"
And even though I'm right
in front of her, right in her line of vision, she pretends she's just noticed
me, and she begrudgingly hands me a tract about the rainforest.
I walk up to some cops.
"Arrested any naked hippies
yet?" I say.
"Nope," one of them says.
And they both laugh.
In the distance, I hear
someone shouting:
"Take it off"
And then I notice that even
the helicopter has left. Or retreated to a safe distance.
And there are only a few
reporters.
"So," Alex says.
"So," I say.
I find a guy who's selling
Socialist newspapers. I buy one. He thanks me.
Over in the center of the
(now) very thin crowd, I notice that a bunch of protesters are smoking
cigarettes, supporting the tobacco industry while protesting The Gap.
"Want to get some food?"
Alex says. "Or maybe go check out that Chinese mall I told you about?"
"Sure. And I want
to sit down for a while, too. My broken toe is killing me."
Later that night, we learn
that eventually some of the GAP-tivists did take off their clothes after
all. There were a few topless girls with slogans pasted on their
nipples, some shirtless guys. But nobody totally naked.
And they had waited until
most of the "supporters" had gone home, bored.
From My Notebook:
The 1960s was the decade
of Activism.
The 1970s, the decade of
Hedonism.
And the '80s: Capitalism.
The '90s: Ennui.
2000s: Simulation.
30.EP.27c:
July 23, 2002.