The year of the protest
(continued)
by Kristen Lombardi
Locally, too, protest fever hit hard. In late March, thousands of
biotechnology bigwigs flew in to the Hub to attend the Bio 2000 conference at
the Hynes Convention Center, where 2500 chanting demonstrators met them.
Protesters made sure to dress in costumes, many of which resembled regurgitated
fruit, to symbolize the dangers of genetic engineering. Comic flair aside, the
protest's high point came just before dawn on March 28, when four merry
pranksters, hoping to send Bio 2000 attendees down, dumped 30 gallons of what
they claimed were genetically altered soybeans in front of the Hynes. The
activists were arrested and charged with disorderly conduct.
Passions erupted in Boston again on October 3, when Bush and Gore squared off
at the UMass Boston campus for the first of three presidential debates. The
barricaded lawn outside UMass was dubbed the "protest pen" by the media, and
rightly so. Thousands of protesters turned out, ostensibly to object to Green
Party candidate Ralph Nader's exclusion. But drums were beaten for everything
from ending capital punishment to campaign-finance reform. Nader and Gore
supporters went mano a mano over who backed the better candidate. As the dust
settled, police arrested 16 people, some of whom were caught throwing an
eight-foot steel fence at passing cars.
The fracas surrounding the first debate was more than appropriate, given the
rage over the political process that has ensued since Election Day. No sooner
had November 7 passed than Jesse Jackson led the rallying cry against voting
snafus that had resulted in thousands of African-Americans' being denied the
right to vote in Florida -- in a year when blacks went to the polls in record
numbers. The AFL-CIO brought in scores of union members to boost Democratic
demonstrations over the Florida recount; it bused in hundreds for a December 6
demonstration on Capitol Hill, during which demonstrators decried action from
the Florida State Legislature, which was preparing to call a special session to
name the state's 25 electors. And a parade of Democratic officials traveled
from DC to Tennessee to Florida to demand an accurate tally of all ballots.
But when it came to sheer, unbridled rage, the Republican camp -- with its
rent-a-mob partisans -- truly outdid everything the year had witnessed up to
that point. Of course, the act of protesting was about the only thing the GOP
demonstrations had in common with those of the youthful Y2K activists.
Overwhelmingly, Republicans spilled into the streets not out of idealism or a
desire to better the system, but because their political party had appealed to
their economic self-interest. W. attracted them with the very item that made
their counterparts recoil in disgust: the dollar bill.
And the Bush camp -- which, as the Wall Street Journal pointed out, paid
party operatives to travel to Florida and protest -- got its money's worth.
As soon as the recount of Florida ballots commenced, far-flung GOP
followers poured into the Sunshine State and proceeded to lash out in mass
gatherings orchestrated by the Republican Party. In Broward County, a crowd of
angry GOP protesters chased down one Democratic official who was suspected of
stealing a ballot; it turned out to be a sample. The day before Thanksgiving,
demonstrators in Miami-Dade County showed their gratitude by screaming,
pounding walls, and waving fists while storming the offices of the election
commission. Amid the vitriol and confusion, some GOP protesters shoved, kicked,
and punched Democratic spokesman Luis Rosero.
When the Florida Supreme Court handed down its December 9 decision to allow
14,000 contested ballots to be recounted, hundreds of Bush loyalists flocked to
Gore's DC residence -- only to turn their jeers into cheers less than 24 hours
later with the US Supreme Court's ruling to halt the count. Spontaneous
outbursts soon shifted to the front of the US Supreme Court, where hundreds of
Republicans and Democrats spent December 11 in a partisan shouting match while
the nine justices heard legal arguments on the Florida recount. The clamoring
grew so intense that DC police in riot helmets separated the two sides with
metal barricades.
The election outbursts provided the perfect end to a perfectly tumultuous year.
But the very people who had expressed the most vigorous dissent over the
previous 12 months were conspicuously absent: the young activists. This could
be because many of them voted for the anti-corporate Nader, derided as a
campaign spoiler. Maybe Y2K activists were nursing their wounds after their man
had been blamed for the election fiasco. (Under other circumstances, it was
Patrick Buchanan who might have been the spoiler: he won crucial votes in four
states -- Iowa, New Mexico, Oregon, and Wisconsin -- that, had they gone to
Bush, would have won the Republican 30 additional electoral votes and thus the
presidential election.) Maybe their anti-establishment mindset simply prevented
them from taking up the fight for a major-party candidate. Whatever the
reasons, in retrospect it may be that, ironically, Republicans and Democrats
who engaged in spontaneous outbursts (as opposed to the meticulously planned
"actions" by the Ruckus Society, complete with training sessions on how to
avoid arrest by secoring oneself to a fence with a U-lock) will be credited
with preparing the ground for immediate change. After the mess that was the
Florida recount, who doesn't believe that the next crusade on Capitol Hill will
be an attempt to overhaul the way we vote?
After such a spirited 2000, 2001 seems destined to carry the fiery flame
forward. True, we probably won't see the numbers we saw during the last great
period of activism, the 1960s. For one thing, today's protesters embrace such a
buffet of causes -- everything from environmental damage to sweatshop labor --
that they confuse the rest of us. And a confusing message makes for a tough
sell with mainstream audiences.
Still, the seeds for widespread mobilization were planted with the remarkably
odd coalition of activists that organized demonstrations this year. Labor
leaders, environmentalists, death-penalty opponents, gay-rights activists -- a
host of advocates worked together under the anti-corporate banner. These seeds
should grow and bloom before they wither. After all, when it comes down to it,
Y2K activists are not all that different from their counterparts in the '60s.
Like their forerunners, young people spent the year protesting because they
expect their country -- their government -- to live up to its ideals.
Besides, the passion that characterized 2000 is bound to be fueled further once
Bush and his fellow Republicans come into power. Talk of a Seattle-like
demonstration at the January 20 inauguration has already circulated among this
year's young crusaders in more than 30 states, including Massachusetts, Maine,
and Rhode Island. They will join Jesse Jackson and others in speaking out
against what they call the anti-democratic US electoral system, as well as the
"gross disenfranchisement" of black voters in Florida. If the GOP's hungry
ideologues succeed in passing even a fraction of their regressive policy agenda
-- if they reverse the social, environmental, and educational gains made under
the Clinton-Gore administration -- we can expect the outcry to be amplified.
Says Boston University professor Joseph Boskin, who studies social movements:
"Conservatives in the Republican Party are nasty, nasty people, and their nasty
policies will translate into greater activism."
And if that happens, then maybe, just maybe, we can watch the Year of the
Protest turn into a year of sustained political action.
Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.