|
April 26, 2001
Quebec's Peaceful Revolution
a-infozine Thursday, April 26 2001 Volume 03 : Number 2576
----------------------------------------------------------------------
________________________________________________
A - I N F O S N E W S S E R V I C E
http://www.ainfos.ca/
________________________________________________
Quebec's Peaceful Revolution
Here's an excellent writeup on the Quebec FTAA protests by Dave
Marshall of geneACTION. It came without a title so I gave it one.
I should mention that there was a mob4glob meeting in Toronto tonight
and it was packed. Indigenous friends from other nations and some
Toronto people spoke on the People's Summit and the marches and protest.
What next? Was part of the discussion. Some people favour everyone
working at their own local level against globalization and related
effects. Others spoke of strong action - knocking down all of the fences
perhaps.
Personally I don't know what to do next. I like people and want to
hear everyone's story on Quebec, and reflect on that. I also don't know
if everyone should be fighting at the fences - that's more for single
guys like me with nothing to lose. Maybe others should do whatever it is
they do best … and not get choked, disfigured or killed.
Gary.
=============
Quebec's Peaceful Revolution
By Dave Marshall - geneACTION
e- mail Kelly Ann Kennedy @lt;@total.net>
posted at http://www.interlog.com/~command/quebec.htm
We left Toronto at nightfall, a bus full of 'Rise Up!' anarchists, and
arrived at Laval University, just outside of Quebec City, at dawn. I may
have slept an hour or two, I'm not sure.
Clear skies and temperature near freezing, gentle mountains surrounding
the city emerge from the darkness. Some other buses are arriving also.
We wait outside the university sport complex for a while, then inside
for a while longer, as organizers kindly welcome us, and verse us on
what has been provided and what to look for. Floor space inside the
giant gymnasium is searched for to accommodate the additional arrivals
of busloads. When enough spots are found we go quietly so as not to wake
the 2000 or so already peacefully sleeping people. It is comfortable
here; the floors are made of rubber. As hundreds of people arrive and
mill about, it is amazing how quiet it is. I don't think I'll sleep,
however.
At the food tent, volunteers hand out peanut butter and jam sandwiches,
muffins and orange juice for breakfast.
Back inside the huge rubber floored gymnasium I chatted with floor
neighbor Alain for a while. He lives in Montreal and believes in things
spiritual. Hindu chants, meditative dancing, vegetarian food, and Gaia,
are some of his guiding interests, passions, and teachings. He is eating
fruit, gratefully, meditatively, and offers me some of his pear.
Gaia is our planet alive, and in grave danger of being murdered by a
group of violent ecological terrorists soon to be meeting behind a
heavily fortified security zone. Awareness of this is bringing thousands
to the city today to peacefully protest outside the fortress walls.
We begin our walk from Laval just after one o'clock. Friday afternoon is
sunny, cloudless, and warm as the day progressed.
The numbers of people, of banners, signs, buttons, stickers, drum-beats,
tambourines, whistles, chants, songs, and cheers would also increase as
we neared the city, as would the enthusiasm of the peaceful people
marching in solidarity, supported by local residents flashing thumbs-up
and peace signs and joining us in our chants and songs of solidarity.
I became an adopted affinity member with Henry, Peter, and Bernard, and
helped them carry a 20ft. long 'BEWARE, GENETIC ENGINEERING' banner
along Chemin Sainte Foy. The small mountains surrounding the city are
frequently in plain view on this crystal clear day.
Down to Boulevard Charest, our banner pulls tautly in the breeze. There
are huge puppets 15 feet high and costumed people on stilts. There is
street theater comedy and comical radical cheerleading, much noise and
laughter as our parade ascends Rue de la Couronne towards Cote d'Abraham
and up and around towards Av. Dufferin, and the notorious perimeter
fence.
We stand back a good way from the fence and a large crowd before the
fence. This is a green-zone event where no conflicts are scheduled. The
more active peaceful protesters had earlier taken a different parade
route. They would be up the hill on boulevard Rene Levesque.
We stand with our large banner enjoying the drumming, the chanting, the
cheering, dancing, and laughing.
I go to check out the perimeter fence as Henry relieves me of my end of
the banner.
The fence is chain-linked, galvanized steel, 7ft. high, bolted upon a 3
ft. high concrete barrier.
When a group of peaceful citizens begin pulling on it, it doesn't seem
so strong. As a section of the fence begins swaying to and fro the riot
police advance from their original position 30 yards behind the fence to
less than 10 feet away.
The first few canisters of tear gas send the peaceful citizens
scrambling. A group of us go west, up Rue D'Aiguillion, to escape the
first of the tear gas. The perimeter fence divides the street, it runs
uphill between old row houses up along our side of the fence and a
brick wall twelve feet across the fence.
About fifty yards up this street a hooded citizen calmly and peacefully
begins cutting links in the fence with a large pair of wire cutters.
Within a minute and a half the fence is cut from bottom to top and
folded across until there is a wide-open ten foot gap in the security
perimeter at this unguarded section of fence.
A few people jump through the opening and run up the hill along side the
fence. Another few minutes elapses before the huge police security force
realizes they have a mammoth breach in security. Eight riot police rush
in to guard the opening.
By now more tear gas bombs are being fired into the crowd. Most are
picked up by gloved peaceful citizens and returned to where they had
come from. Peaceful citizens close to the fence are shot point-blank in
the face with high powered tear gas powder fired from guns. It is a
terrible thing to witness.
To stand bravely in front of a fence is now a crime, subject to vicious
assault with harmful sickening chemicals fired from high powered
weaponry.
Tear gas is fired now further into the peaceful celebration. Medics are
kept busy attending to the many tear gas casualties. Eyes and throats
burn everywhere. The tear gas keeps coming despite any actual challenge
to the security perimeter. Helicopters hover above.
A few rocks and bottles are tossed across the fence. They have more room
for garbage than our side. Our side is crowding up with tear gas and
canisters.
This continues for a few more hours. At one point an American flag gets
burned. People cheer.
Peaceful citizens closest to the fence bravely stand their ground. Some
stand holding peace signs, others tie peaceful signs to the fence. A
group of brave young women dance up close to the fence. They dance
beautifully peaceful and creative movements to the rhythmic drumming of
an ancient beat. They dance a soulful beat, a collective beat, a
universal beat. Creative messages are colorfully chalked and crayoned
onto the street where the peaceful citizens assemble. Further back from
the perimeter a large circle forms, of people holding hands while songs
of solidarity ring loud and clear.
From down below to the east on Cote Sampson, a few hundred riot police,
in columns of three march in semi-unison, puffing and sweating profusely
up the steep hill past Peter, Bernard, and I. They turn up Rue des
Glacis where they park themselves and where they appear to have about
thirty harmless citizens boxed in close towards the perimeter. Bernard,
in impassioned French speaks to a riot police standing sentry along the
guardrail overlooking the zone verte a l'iot-Fleuri. This is the
green-zone space for artistic work, communal vegetarian food for
everyone, incredibly colorful and creative highway overpass suspension
walls, and great loud music. Bernard is our affinity group goodwill
ambassador and translator. He feels inclined to speak and teach and
reach out and bring out the goodness in everyone there in the streets of
Quebec. His English, although limited, is articulate. I can only imagine
how articulate he is in French. He speaks passionately about the perils
of genetically engineered food, and he seems to have an effect on
everyone he speaks to. Twenty minutes or so later we politely pry him
away from conversation with the riot police sentry guard. We leave there
sensing that arrests might soon begin.
We continue on and up through the old ramparts, away from the crowds,
the tear gas, and the noise.
The cannons high up above the river are not being used. Bernard chats
with a few nice old local ladies. They are concerned about excessive
security force they have witnessed in their beautiful city. Down near
the old town he talks up a guard standing behind the perimeter fence.
Things are quiet, calm, and pretty much deserted down in the old town
Friday night. We walk over towards the Old Port, find an small outdoor
cafe and have a beer and some walnuts for dinner.
Walking west from the Old Port we pass some large storefront windows
being boarded up in anticipation of the large peaceful march planned for
next day. We have a good laugh with the plywood installers. We hail a
cab to take us back to Laval where Peters car is parked. Our cab driver
needs little educating about genetically engineered food. He is as
animated as Bernard about the violent scientific and corporate takeover
and genetic contamination of our food supply.
Just outside the sports complex I meet and talk to Guy, an independent
media photographer, who had taken 6 rolls of film up on boulevard Rene
Levesque. The Plains of Abraham had been more active than our assembly
had been. More fence had been pulled down. More arrests had been made.
More vicious assaults had been arbitrarily inflicted against innocent
citizens trying to express thier freedom of speech. Despite this, Guy
assured me, peaceful protests would continue throughout the night.
Saturday turned out to be warmer than Friday.
After a huge peaceful religious group, citizen group, and trade union
march down through the lower town, a bunch of marchers break off to join
up with and help their brothers and sisters up on the hill in several
spots. They break off to join them and support them in brave peaceful
protest against excessive violence being planned behind a tall fence
guarded by heavily armed state funded terrorists with thick body armor
and heavy shields.
If the unions were there at all, they kept a low profile.
The dancing continued all day in different locations. The tear gas came
more frequently and more concentrated.
Up on Cote d'Abraham turns were taken to peacefully challenge the
perimeter.
Scores of citizens were continually overcome by tear gas. Some were
bleeding from direct canister hits. Others had been hit by plastic
bullets.
Access to a side street on the east side of Cote d'Abraham was now
closed off by about 20 riot police.
A steady volley of tear gas canisters were shot up high into the air,
and into the crowds far back of the perimeter. Others were fired
line-drive directly at groups of people, most of which were returned.
The crowd cheered as another American flag was set ablaze.
Colorful messages on the walls and the street were accumulating. Fires
burned, drums beat, and people danced. Loud heavy music filled the
street from an open second story window just down from where the violent
state police continued their relentless assault on citizens rights to
peaceful expression and peaceful assembly.
The scene looked and felt like war, yet only one side had any real
weapons. The other side had only courage, but a great amount was evident
as they bravely stood in front of the fence. Some even began to climb
the fence before being shot point-blank by a blast of tear gas or a
plastic bullet. I saw several plastic wounds during the day, terrible
deep wide flesh wounds - evidence to the weight and the size; maybe 7/8
of an inch in diameter by three inches long, and the velocity and force
of impact. I saw how dangerous plastic bullets could be, how capable of
serious injury or death, if hit in the wrong place.
Still, the brave, dedicated, peaceful youth kept responding. They were
not out for a good time; they were there for good reason. They were
there to change a rotten, corrupt, oppressive system that has traded in
their right to participation, their future, and the future of billions
of others much worse off than them. They were there to challenge
agreements that are fundamentally designed to exploit nature as a
resource for us to cinsume, and life as a commodity, worth only what the
highest bidder will pay.
This is the message that came through all that day. It was a common
message written on thousands of shirts, jackets, buttons, banners,
signs, walls, sidewalks. It was written in French, English, and Spanish.
It was sung and chanted and danced to. Dances of the earth. Dances of
freedom. Dances of love danced to continuous beating of drums. This is
what was shouted and chanted and sung in songs of solidarity - that our
world is not for sale. Language was no barrier in the streets of Quebec.
Such state manufactured divisions and confrontations were irrelevant
here. 'Solidarity' is the same in every language. It is something that
nation states cannot accept because solidarity transcends the limits of
Nation States. It is something that Nation States cannot understand,
accept, or accommodate. Nation States are dependant upon competition,
conflict, and self interest. To the Nation State solidarity is a threat.
What we brought was a collective message transcendent of Quebec, Canada,
or of any nation. What we brought was transcendent of a new world order
making dirty deals in favor of exploitation, destruction, and waste,
behind chainlinked barricades and heavily armed walls of force.
Despite youthful fervor there is little delusion at all. The message is
carried out with deliberate conviction and purpose.
No one came to have a party, blah, blah, blah. They came to challenge
force, challenge violence, and challenge a shameful societal apathy that
lets all this happen.
They were not out to hurt, and no one would be hurt by them. Many were
prepared to risk injury though, and many were being wounded by the
violent state.
We unfurled our large banner there in the war zone for the leaders and
the cameras to see. All at once, four tear gas bombs came our way. I
got dosed pretty badly and had to retreat.
Lucky for everyone there was always a volunteer medic nearby, even near
the front lines. Always brave, they were always ready to assist the
wounded and severely tear gassed with water and a special solution to
rinse out the eyes.
All along the narrow streets residents on front steps and from open
windows would offer support. Some left hoses running so that people
could refill water bottles, drink, and rinse out tear gas from their
eyes. They seemed sympathetic to what we were doing. They disliked the
fence also, and the inescapable tear gas pervading the city. A lady
walking home from work was having trouble breathing and needed her eyes
rinsed out. From a second story window some residents informed us that
the summit meeting had to be moved to another building because of tear
gas entering the ventilation system. I hope they got a good dose.
Up on Rene Levesque another battle raged. Two blocks west of the
perimeter, drummers drummed entrancing rhythms in unison. A large group
of dancers danced beside a row of riot police guarding the street
running south off Rue Rene Levesque. On another side of the dancers was
a Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce. Some windows had been broken, and
white paint splattered on the front entrance. A cardboard sign hanging
over a broken window read, "I owe you for one broken window. It was
signed, ' The Revolution.'
Tear gas continued to slither down the street from the direction of the
assembly.
On the Plains of Abraham, along the bank of a hill parallel to boulevard
Rene Levesque, more riot police stood guard.
Bernard and I unfurled our 'Beware, Genetic Engineering' sign right in
front of the line of police. We were immediately told to move down the
hill because we were blocking their view of the street. Our sign, with a
backdrop of riot police was popular with photographers.
Pictures were also taken of Bernard afterwards talking animatedly to a
few of the riot police. The piece of rope he gripped in his hands had
alarmed them at first, and when he held out his arm to shake hands they
looked ready to take him down. He only wanted to talk, however. He only
wanted to educate, humanize, and communicate that what we all share in
common is greater than what divides us and leads us into conflict. It is
the state that creates conflict, and is dependent on conflict to keep
itself strong.
The tear gas came heavy from the front lines up the road. Water cannons
could be seen further ahead shooting water into a crowd down below to
the north.
The riot police were out on the street now, most likely to protect
another breach. A rapid fire volley of tear gas dispersed a group of
peaceful protesters not far in front of us, then quickly about 30 riot
police rushed in from a southern flank position and took down about 15
peaceful protesters. I recognized two of the arrested from spending some
time with them earlier that afternoon. They were nice people. They were
friendly, thoughtful, concerned, and most of all they were peaceful.
A new front line of police soon was formed across boulevard Rene
Levesque, closer to us. A brief standoff with a few peaceful
demonstrators ensued. A riot cop advanced and aimed, but did not fire.
Other peaceful protesters were still being held down on the ground
behind the new front line, and more reinforcements were moved in to
refill the flank position.
We unfurled our 'Beware, Genetic Engineering' banner once more, and soon
several more tear gas bombs were coming our way. They even fell to a
distance behind where we stood. The height and the distance with which
they traveled was impressive.
I wondered about the thousands of people in their homes and apartments;
victims also of this relentless assault of tear gas.
As darkness came we headed back. The local youth was noticeably out in
full force now and the beer and alcohol seemed to be flowing freely. A
helicopter hovered overhead shining sharp beams of light on the peaceful
crowd below.
Back to Av. De Salaberry and down to another street we went east until
we dead-ended at another wall of riot police. They blocked off the road
at the bottom of a hill on our side of an intersection. A large portion
of fence beside the old cemetery had been taken down.
Drums beat, whistles blew, and people danced in front of the police.
Bernard talked up a local resident in front of a closed-up shop. This
resident could not be swayed, however, even by Bernard, from his faith
in the state, and that the future state of Quebec would solve all the
problems of the present dysfunctional federal state..... Likewise,
earlier in front of the bank with the broken windows a lady would not be
swayed from her conviction of the seriousness of damaged private
property. Even if it happened to be a major player and symbol of blood
sucking capitalism, private property was important to her. Despite
Bernard's efforts her opinion held firm. She would continue to maintain
that it's O.K. for big violent banks like the CIBC to steal and exploit,
but it's not O.K. to peacefully and symbolically shatter a few of the
violent bank's windows.
He was better received a short while later by a couple of elderly ladies
sitting beside a little park, where even here, nearly a kilometre away,
you could not escape the tear gas.
Running battles continued back at Cote d'Abraham. On the lookout
platform above the park, smoke from a wood fire intermingled with more
waves of tear gas wafting down from the perimeter area above. The front
lines had advanced here also. The riot police were becoming more
aggressively positioned to continue their assault upon the people.
We went down to the area beneath the highway overpasses, into the zone
verte a lilot-Fleuri.
A steady, rhythmic, beating of hundreds of sticks and rocks against the
metal guardrails and metal highway signs was impressive and inspiring.
The cliff walls and the concrete walls and the spiraling concrete
ceilings acoustically amplified the steady rhythmic guardrail drumming.
I was handed a rock and offered space alongside the guardrail to join in
the primordial chorus of drumming. A guy was playing his acoustic guitar
beside us for all it was worth, unconcerned that no one could hear him.
He was entertaining himself as much as everyone else.
I spotted a brick not far from my feet and banged it on the guardrail
for more emphasis, more base, to help carry further into the night this
cohesive primal communication. Down here the revolution was happening.
Down here there was power from within. Down here the manifestation was
sprouting. Down here there was controlled anarchy - fluid, dynamic, and
complete.
A nearby fire beneath the overpass was steadily getting bigger. Highway
signs were coming down.
Further beneath the spiraling convergence of highway overpasses we
walked to the food tent. There we waited briefly in line and were handed
a plate of rice and vegetables. They had fed thousands like this all
week, free of charge, and continued to feed the brave youth well into
the night.
In a makeshift washstand of hanging water buckets that had to be
manually hauled in to the site, we washed the plates and the utensils
provided and returned them back to the food lineup. No one was using
disposable plates and cutlery that I could see. Down here recycling was
being practiced as part of the revolution.
Incineration was also being practiced as a solution to waste. From 75
yards away we could feel the warmth of the fire growing steadily bigger.
The guardrail drummers kept the beat steady and strong and
revolutionary.
Closer to the cliff wall below where riot police stood sentry, a
strange, luminous, intense fire was ignited, sending an enormous cloud
of smoke up above the overpass. Helicopters were quickly dispatched
overhead to investigate.
Bernard, Peter and I went over to the Old Port to get a beer at the same
outdoor cafe as we'd been to the night before. They offered me a ride
back to Laval but I was deciding I needed to stay.
Heading west along Charest Est. there was a large crowd converging up
near Rue de la Couronne. In the little park to the east a large wooden
real estate billboard was coming down. The large wooden poles and the
sign itself got the fire in the street going pretty good.
Up the hill the conflicts continued but things there appeared less thick
than before.
It was midnight and the party was in full swing. It was mostly local
people singing, drinking, smoking, and smashing bottles on the ground.
Plywood was pulled off the boarded shop windows to feed the fire growing
there in the intersection.
The images were as intense as the flames from the fire, as numerous and
diverse as the thousands of signs, and as persistent as the tear gas.
Huge banners were draped from the top of the precipice towards the
Plains of Abraham. One of them proclaimed 'Peoples Summit'. I counted
four helicopters in the sky.
It was after one a.m., when a large column of riot police began their
advance down Rue de la Couronne, towards the peaceful celebration down
in the streets. Without warning, and without provocation, tear gas bombs
came pounding down into an innocent crowd below in the streets. It was
concentrated tear gas with a devastating effect. It took a couple of
city blocks of retreat before I began to recover. Down here with no
wind, the tear gas would not go away. It followed us down the street as
we retreated.
I watched as the windows of a Subway Sandwich shop got smashed. Good for
them, I thought. Even though I'd privately criticized that sort of thing
just a short time earlier, I knew I had no good reason to criticize them
now. After the extreme police violence I'd witnessed the past few days,
a few broken windows didn't merit a second thought.
Walking home along the parade route from a day and a half before, the
streets were quiet and the air was less toxic. I was trying to recall if
I'd seen any violent protesters yet. I couldn't. All I could recall were
the many acts of courage, generosity, and solidarity in the face of
unnecessary police violence.
Nearly home now, the solidarity chant still plays in my head. A light
rain falls, but the revolution will not be doused.
********
The A-Infos News Service
News about and of interest to anarchists
********
COMMANDS: lists@tao.ca
REPLIES: a-infos-d@lists.tao.ca
HELP: a-infos-org@lists.tao.ca
WWW: http://www.ainfos.ca
INFO: http://www.ainfos.ca/org
To receive a-infos in one language only mail lists@tao.ca the message
unsubscribe a-infos
subscribe a-infos-X
where X = en, ca, de, fr, etc. (i.e. the language code)
|
