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Thursday, December 29, 2011

“Saboteur” / Radical Peace: People Refusing War,

Dissident Voice: a radical newsletter in the struggle for peace and social justice

Saboteur

An interview with a domestic insurgent

I first met the man we’ll call Trucker in 1970 at a rally against the Vietnam War. Our demo was going to start on the Berkeley campus and continue with a march down Telegraph Avenue. This was shortly after the National Guard and police had murdered six demonstrators at Kent State and Jackson State, so the mood was extremely tense. The Berkeley city government had denied us a permit to march and called in police reinforcements from Oakland. The Oakland cops had a reputation for brutality (based on their treatment of the black population), and we were expecting an ugly and possibly violent confrontation. Out of fear, many people decided not to march, but others of us argued that marching was now more important than ever. We needed to defy the government’s attempts to scare us into silence.

After speeches and music in front of Sproul Hall, we marched off the campus and were met by a wall of police sealing off Telegraph Avenue. Some of our hard-cores in front tried to break through the barrier but were clubbed down. Cops began firing what looked liked shotguns, and people started screaming and running in panic, but it turned out to be tear gas.

A demonstrator wearing a biker helmet, swim goggles, and a cloth around his face picked up a gas canister with gloved hands and hurled it back at the police — a classic scene of a brave individual defying tyranny. Inspired, I pulled off my old green beret that I’d been wearing and used it to protect my hands as I scooped up a hot canister and threw it back where it came from. I thought about all the grenades I’d thrown in Vietnam and felt much better about this one.

The first line of cops, those who were firing, wore gas masks, but those behind didn’t, and I felt a surge of triumph seeing them run from their own gas. But the ones in masks kept advancing and firing, looking like robots.

The peace marchers fell back, fleeing down side streets. Agonized from the tear gas, I sank to my knees, hacking convulsively. My eyes were seared, nose and throat raw, skin burning. Through the tears I saw the guy in the biker helmet approaching. He helped me off the street into a doorway and pulled out a first-aid kit. From a squeeze bottle he squirted glycerin water into my eyes and nose, helped me rinse my mouth and throat with regular water from a canteen, then rubbed moist baking soda under my eyes. He was firm but gentle, like a good combat medic. I saw the cloth around his face was a towel wet with vinegar to absorb some of the gas. This man was equipped.

As soon as I could walk better, we straggled away from the scene. The police strategy had worked: the march was broken up, scattered in all directions. We walked down to People’s Park, angry, bitter, exhausted.

The park was full, and no cops dared to show, although they and other agents were probably there undercover. Joints were being passed around, and we got high. Smoking grass back then had an innocence to it that it hasn’t had since. Cannabis helped us to abandon the death world we saw around us and resurrect our child-selves. Stoned people were learning to play again, singing, blowing giant iridescent soap bubbles, juggling pine cones, tossing Frisbees back and forth. But under it seethed a mood of defiance and rebellion. A statement in Ramparts magazine summed up our feelings: “Alienation is when your country is at war and you want the other side to win.” But I would have spelled it a-lie-nation. A group of conga drummers were playing, and their furious, insistent beat seemed to herald a rising tidal wave of protest that would sweep the militarists out of power.

We didn’t realize it at the time, but this wasn’t the beginning of the wave but its crest, and in the next years it would dwindle down. But this was better than no wave at all. It didn’t sink the ship of state, but it did slosh over the deck. And now a new one is rising that may go even higher.

The events of the day bonded Trucker and me as friends, and although our lives took different directions after that, we stayed in touch. Years ago he went totally underground, changing his identity and location, and since then all I’ve had for him is a webmail address, through which we held the following interview.

Hathaway: Why don’t you start by telling us why you became a saboteur.

Trucker: Well, like Jerry Garcia said, “What a long, strange trip it’s been.” After you went back to New York I joined an anarchist affinity group, and we worked with the Weather Underground to move demos in the direction of revolt — trashing the headquarters of war corporations, barricading the entrance to the Oakland Army Terminal, throwing rocks at the cops. By then the fuzz had refined their tactics and had special squads that would target the activists, rush into the crowd and grab the hard-cores. They clubbed me, kicked me, punched me, then charged me with assaulting a police officer. I did four months in the Alameda County Jail. Later I found out our group had been infiltrated. One guy who was always pushing us to be more violent was actually an agent. He gave them all our plans, even photos of us he’d made with a hidden camera.

After that I gave up on groups and since then have focused on individual guerrilla insurrection, autonome actions, monkeywrenching the machine. Especially now with the Patriot Act, that’s become the safest way to work. There’s a good book, Leaderless Resistance, on how to organize that without getting smashed. You can’t totally prevent being infiltrated, but you can prevent the agents from knowing much.

Hathaway: I remember back then you were complaining about all the infiltration, and I thought you were paranoid, but it turned out you were right.

Trucker: Yeah, the government took our threat very seriously and did everything they could to smash us. But they couldn’t.

Once the war was finally over, I and lots of other people were totally burnt out. We needed a break, to depressurize. But after a while exhaustion turned to apathy, and many people lost interest in the ongoing struggle.

I remember when Nixon violated the Paris Peace Agreement by refusing to pay the reparations we’d promised to help Vietnam rebuild their infrastructure and buy medical supplies. Refusing this humanitarian aid was an outrageous, criminal act, and some of us tried to organize a mass protest. We ended up with a hundred people on the steps of the San Francisco County Courthouse. The momentum was gone.

I too began to focus more on my personal life. I’d met a woman I wanted to build a future with. We were both tired of being poor. Living on the fringe is a struggle, it wears you down. Neither of us wanted to work for the Man and go the yuppie route, and we wanted something with a bit of adventure to it.

I’d done a little dealing before, but now we got into it in a big way. Just grass and hash, though — natural plants. I never liked hard drugs. Went to Mexico and spent a long time in Michoacán finding a good connection. Not just price and quality, but also good personal vibes.

We moved to San Diego, and I cut my hair and shaved my beard. Customs was using dogs on the border by then, but we came up with a way to beat that. Formed a little company called Baha Divers, stenciled this on the sides of a van. I’d drive south across the border about every other day with the van full of scuba tanks and gear, supposedly to give diving lessons to the tourists at Rosarito Beach. The US border guards thought of course American tourists would rather learn to dive from an American. In Mexico we sealed the stuff inside the tanks. We filled them with hash because it’s more concentrated. I had cut the tanks in the middle and had an airtight way to reseal them. Then we would wash them off with ammonia, to get rid of any smell. The first couple of times I was totally nervous and was afraid the guards would pick up on that, but they didn’t. Pretty dull bunch. After a while they didn’t even bother to put the dog in the van, just waved me through.

People I’d known in the Bay area were now spread all over the West Coast, so before long we were supplying all the way up to Vancouver.

But one day the border guards flagged me into the inspection lane. They knew exactly what they were looking for, took the tanks apart and handcuffed me. It turned out that one of our guys on the Mexican side had got busted by the Federales, and he traded his way into a lower sentence by ratting me out.

It looked bad, like I’d be going back to the Bay area — all the way to San Quentin. But we hired a very good, VERY expensive lawyer, and he got me off. I had to plead guilty as part of a plea bargain but ended up with a suspended sentence.

I decided to get out of the business. By then our savings were enough to buy a spread of land with an old farmhouse in Oregon. We settled down, went back to college, got involved in local issues and environmental organizing.

Then it all exploded in our faces. We let a guy, friend of a friend, stay with us for a couple of weeks. He was going through hard times and needed some peace and quiet out in the country. He was active in the Black Panthers, and so of course the cops were hassling him, but what we didn’t know was that they had warrants on him for the armed robbery of three supermarkets. They tracked him out to our farm and arrested everybody there, charged us all with the robberies. He had some of the loot with him, and he’d given us some bills that turned out to be marked, so that tied us in. Cops found a few pot plants in our garden and added drug charges. They could tell we were radicals, so they wanted to send us away for as long as they could. Considering the other busts, I was looking at major time as a repeat offender.

We decided to scram. Sold the house and land. Our forfeited bail took a huge chunk of that, but since we weren’t going to pay taxes, we came out OK. With the help of some of our old contacts, we transferred the money off shore, then followed it and kept moving, got passports under new names. We thought about staying overseas and becoming ex-pats, but we both missed the USA. The thing is, we like the country. We just don’t like the people running it.

We had some facial surgery — my wife loves her new nose — and after a couple of years came back as different people. We haven’t been back to the West Coast, though, don’t want to push our luck. And we’re super law-abiding, except of course for the small matter of burning military vehicles.

Cutting ties was hard. Both our are families are conservative and had shut us out a long time ago, so that part wasn’t so difficult. That was pain we’d already gone through. But we had to let go of a lot of friendships. We have webmail with a few close and trusted folks like you, but none of them know where we live or our names.

Hathaway: Thanks for including me on your list.

Trucker: Well, we go back a long time. And those were very formative times.

But by the time we came back, the country was deep into the Big Chill. Straight and retro. Women were abandoning feminism and returning to femininity, joining the Fascinating Womanhood movement. Guys were majoring in business and wearing suits with suspenders like their grandfathers. Bill Gates replaced John Lennon as the generational hero. Disgusting.

Maybe as part of our trying to fit into the mainstream, we became tamer ourselves. Got married, in church yet. Stopped smoking dope … pretty much at least.

Politically, we started thinking that the way to bring change was through the Democrats, gradual reforms. Now we see that was a trap.

We turned radical again when Clinton ignored the chance for disarmament that the collapse of the Soviet Union offered. He could’ve turned the end of the Cold War into a new era of peace. Instead he saw the chance for empire and went for it. Modernized the military with high-tech weapons, clamped sanctions on Iraq that led to millions of children dying from lack of medicine, bombed Yugoslavia and built a huge base there. Rather than communists, the people who opposed the empire were now called terrorists.

Domestically he declared war on welfare. Thanks to his policies, millions of single mothers were forced away from their children and into crummy, low-paying jobs. Their kids grew up just as poor but much more neglected.

Underneath the big smile, Clinton was just a loyal servant of the corporations and the military. Both Clintons are masters of giving the impression of working for real change, but it’s just show. And Obama is even better at that show than they are.

The Democratic Party leadership serves the interests of the mercantile side of the business establishment. They support slightly higher wages and unemployment benefits so people will have money to keeping buy stuff. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t go any farther than that. The basic injustice of the system is never challenged. The Democrats just bring mildly expansionist policies to stimulate the economy.

The Republicans bring mildly contractive policies that serve the interests of the fiscal side of business. They keep wages low, which holds costs and inflation down and thus preserves the value of capital.

Although these two tendencies conflict, they’re two complementary ways that corporations maintain their control over us, two sides of the same gold coin. Both are necessary for them, and trading the power back and forth keeps things running in a wobbly balance.

The goal of both parties is to continue this system with little changes here and there, fine tuning. Neither one is going to take it apart and rebuild it, which is what we need. And both parties support an aggressive foreign policy to force US economic and military power into other countries, which is what nobody needs except the corporations they represent.

Although there’s little difference in their policies, there’s a great deal of difference in how the parties are marketed to us. Liberal candidates are sold as figures of great hope. We’re supposed to think, Finally someone who’ll change things. But their changes turn out to be trivial. The system stays mostly the same, and we slump back into disappointment. As the disappointment builds to mass discontent, another fresh liberal face is presented to us with new slogans. But they’re all tied to the system. The only candidates that have a chance of getting nominated are those supported by business. They’re in their pockets. That’s the price of their coming to power.

Look back in the past. The only major changes to come out of congress have been the New Deal in the 1930s, passed to stave off a total economic collapse, and the Civil Rights Act in the 1960s, passed under the threat of armed insurrection. And congress has been whittling away at them ever since.

We have to take the power away from both parties, close down their whole show. Or else we’ll keep on being their vassals.

We fall for their shell game because we have a desperate need to believe the USA is a great country and our personal lives will turn out well. So we ignore what our leaders are doing in the rest of the world and cling to their mirage of a better future. That’s comforting. But things are not improving, they’re declining. And that’ll continue until we get rid of this corporation government, both parties. We can’t build a new system until we break the power of the current one.

Hathaway: How are you trying to do that?

Trucker: After Bush & Co invaded Afghanistan and Iraq, I knew I couldn’t just sign petitions and march in demonstrations anymore. That wasn’t going to have any effect on these guys. I had to do what I could to keep them from waging war, to take away their equipment, to bankrupt them. The people running the show are just businessmen. If they see it’s costing them more than they can get out of it, they’ll stop. So I decided to start destroying expensive military items.

I took off in a pickup truck with a camper and a dirt bike to become a domestic insurgent. Slept in the camper so I didn’t leave records at motels. Showered at truck stops. I used the bike to scout out targets and escape routes.

I found out that security around the big bases was tight, so I started checking out National Guard branches. I liked the idea of taking revenge on the Guard for Kent State. I found a unit that had all their trucks and humvees locked in the motor pool behind a chainlink fence, but someone had left a staff car parked behind the building. I guess the colonel didn’t want to have to walk very far.

I decided to go for it, but this first time was damn near my last. I set myself on fire. I made the mistake of starting at the top. I poured gasoline over the trunk of the car above the gas tank, and then more under the tank. But without my knowing it, the gas ran down onto the sleeve of my coat. When I flicked the lighter, my whole arm caught fire. The car did too, of course, and I had to run away from it with a blazing arm. By the time I got the coat off, I had third degree burns. Hurt like hell but I couldn’t scream. Scared to.

But it was great seeing the car go up. When the vapor in the gas tank gets hot enough, it explodes, not a huge explosion, but enough to set off the whole tank, which erupts into a fireball that swallows the car. You can feel the concussion and a blast of heat. Everything is flames. It’s quite a scene, a real charge.

Getting away, I could hardly steer the bike, my arm hurt so much. I didn’t sleep that night because of the pain. Terrible oozing blisters, skin peeling off. I’d brought a first-aid kit with salve and stuff, but this was way past that.

I was afraid to go to the emergency room because they might call the cops — a guy comes in with burns right after an arson fire. But next morning I headed for the down side of downtown.

I had tried heroin once years ago and didn’t like its down, shut-off feeling. But now I needed it. I went to the bus station, knowing that’s a good place to score in most cities. I could pick up on dealer vibes, having been one myself, so I talked to this guy who was hanging out there, standing and looking around rather than just sitting and waiting for a bus. At first he was suspicious, but he sensed I wasn’t a cop. A dealer has to have that instinct or he won’t last long.

I probably paid twice as much as his regular customers, but I got a balloon. Mixed a quarter spoonful with orange juice, drank it down. Bitter. I threw up and had to take some more. But a half hour later I was fine.

I bought the newspaper and read about “Arsonist Torches National Guard” with a picture of the burned-out car. I felt great. I knew that the money it was going to take to replace that car couldn’t be used to bomb Afghanistan. This had a lot more impact than writing a congressman or shouting slogans in a protest march. It made a bottom-line difference. I wanted to save the newspaper, but it could’ve connected me, so I threw it away.

By then I was getting woozy. Went back to the truck and passed out. Pain woke me up in a few hours, I took some more smack and nodded out again.

I’ve still got the scars, patches of turkey skin.

Hathaway: That didn’t make you stop?

Trucker: No, it made me realize what all the people who’ve been hit by US napalm and white phosphorous are going through. Right this moment men, women, and children are crying in agony because of our bombing. And they don’t have the luxury of pain killers.

It’s worse for the kids. They have a lifetime of pain ahead of them, because the scars don’t grow. As the skin around them grows, that stretches the scars. The tissue becomes very thin and sensitive. It hurts for the rest of their lives.

Hundreds of thousands of people in Vietnam and Cambodia are still living with this on a daily basis. And now Iraqi and Afghan children are facing this future.

My pain gave me just a taste of what they are suffering. It also made me aware how terrible it would be if someone got caught in one of my fires. I’d never torch a building. Just vehicles. I even look in those to make sure no one’s sleeping in the back.

My burns made me see that what I was doing was important, trying to stop this war machine.

If Americans knew, I mean really opened our hearts to the mass suffering we’re inflicting on Iraq and Afghanistan at this moment, we’d overthrow this government. Not to mention what we did in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Chile, Indonesia, the Congo, Iran, and so many more. But we don’t want to know. We turn it off — it’s a long ways away. And the media sure don’t want us to tell about it. Their job is to distract us from it with all sorts of nonsense.

We close our eyes to the killing because it conflicts with the patriotic fantasies about America we learned as children. Reality is too disturbing, so we deny it. Our love of country has blinded us.

But deep down we do know. We push it away, but it sinks into our subconscious and festers there and pops out in sick ways. That’s why we have so many crazy shootings.

We’re convinced our society is good, because that’s what we were taught. But good societies don’t kill millions of people. Pathological ones do that. And you don’t cure pathology with reforms. It needs major surgery.

Hathaway: What do you see as your greatest triumph?

Trucker: The Air National Guard watches their planes pretty carefully, but I found one parked at an unguarded airstrip. This was in the middle of the day, and I was hoping it would still be there at night. It was, and no one around. I needed more gas because the flames had to reach higher, and I wasn’t sure where the tanks were. I soaked some boards with gas and laid them against the fuselage and on the wings. The plane went up fine. A beautiful sight. Had a different smell because of the kerosene.

Hathaway: Are you going to get more planes?

Trucker: I hope so, but the vehicles are easier to find. My favorite are the deuce-and-a-halves, those big trucks with canvas covers. They make a huge fireball, and they’re expensive. That’s what this game is about — make the war too expensive, so it becomes bad economics. There’s lots of ways to do that, and this is my way.

A couple of times a year, but not in any regular pattern, I take off and look for targets of opportunity. My wife keeps the home fires burning while I go out and set a fire. I follow the basic principles of guerrilla warfare — pick the time and place to attack, make it quick, and get out before the enemy can react.

Once I almost got caught. I always pick Guard units of the edge of town, somewhat isolated. Those are less likely to be patrolled by the police, and they offer quicker access to escape routes, trails where only the bike can go. This place looked good, and they’d left a truck out. Right after it erupted in flames, though, I heard a siren and saw flashing lights. A patrol car must’ve been cruising nearby.

He was between me and my escape route, so I had to take off on the bike in the other direction. He saw me, even though I was running without lights. I was hoping he’d first go to the fire, but no such luck — he charged after me. The bike is fast, but so was he. I kept turning corners because I could do that faster than he could, but he caught up on the straights. I zigzagged back onto the main road towards the escape trail, but by then other sirens were approaching from different directions.

He was right behind me as I got to the trail. I was afraid he was going to run me over and claim it was an accident. As I slowed down to turn left onto the trail, he swung beside me into the oncoming lane and blocked me off. I couldn’t turn, just had to keep going.

Up ahead was an intersection. I sprinted towards it and swung a wide U-turn in the middle of it, so I could get back to the trail. But he turned his car sideways to block the road. His front tires covered the right shoulder I wanted to drive on, and I couldn’t turn sharp enough to get behind him.

I was still going fast and had only a split second to react. I plunged the bike down into the drainage channel next to the shoulder of the road, right in front of his headlights. I could barely hold it stable. I skidded on the wet bottom of the channel, almost laid it down, but kicked out with my foot and managed to stay up. Then I hit an old tire and lost control. The bike bounced up and keeled over, and I scraped through the mud, wrenching my leg and banging my knee, and finally stopped, front wheel still spinning. I was hurting and covered with dreck.

The patrol car was backing around to get me. My engine had stalled, but it started again on the first kick. I roared up the side of the channel at an angle, back onto the pavement.

The cop was closing fast, and I moved onto the shoulder so he couldn’t cut me off from the trail again. Another patrol car was speeding from town, red lights flashing, siren blaring, but he wasn’t close yet. Approaching the trail, I slowed just enough to slue through the turn. As I careened down the trail away from the road, I imagined the cop swearing at me in frustration.

I was on a tractor path leading into a big area of cornfields, and the tall corn swallowed me up in a second, friendly and protective. It was dark in there, but I kept my lights off so they wouldn’t reflect off the stalks and show my position. I slowed down and laughed out loud in the warm, fragrant September night.

The fields ran for miles, gridded with other tractor paths, and I was sure they couldn’t find me here in the dark. The feed corn was so dense that even with a helicopter they’d have to be right above me before they could spot me. I was safe here until dawn.

This was my territory now, but the streets were enemy territory, and I was going to have trouble getting out of here. When I had to try, my best bet would be a road with lots of traffic, so I could blend in. The cops couldn’t be everywhere.

A state highway ran north of town, and I headed for it, now pushing the bike so they couldn’t tell my direction from its sound. It took hours. I had to cross a couple of gravel roads, first waiting out of sight until it felt safe, then running across. Finally I could hear the highway ahead. It was almost dawn, but I wanted to wait until rush-hour traffic, so I lay down and tried to sleep. The ground was cold, I was hungry, my knee hurt, and a field mouse scampered over me, but I managed to doze.

About 7:30 I crept up towards the highway, peering out from my tractor path, afraid again. To my relief, there were enough motorcycles on the road that I figured the cops couldn’t stop them all. I waited until I felt lucky, then started the bike, accelerated along the shoulder, and joined the stream between two big trucks. I saw one cop, but he was going the other way. I kept expecting a patrol car to pull beside me with a shotgun leveled out the window, but it didn’t happen.

I stopped in the next town and hid the bike near a shopping center. I was covered with mud, so I bought new clothes, cleaned up as best I could and changed, then ate a big farmer’s breakfast of steak and eggs, grits, and three cups of coffee. It was the sort of place where cops might stop for doughnuts, but none came in. Poor guys must’ve all had to work overtime.

I took a cab back to near where my truck was parked, drove back to the bike and loaded it in, drove a hundred more miles, and collapsed into the bunk. My body was still clogged with fear, my leg was swollen and aching, I had a nervous tic in my cheek, but I was almost glowing with bliss as I sank into sleep.

It was a long time before I went on another sabotage mission, though.

Once I had a close call at what looked like a perfect set up — a humvee parked behind a Guard admin building, secluded, dark, no one around. As usual I waited an hour after the bars closed, so the streets would be emptier. Also it was a regular work night, so fewer late partygoers. But as soon as I took the lid off the gas can, this car pulls in and two guys get out, drunk. They were fumbling at their zippers to piss when they noticed me by the humvee. They shouted at me — probably thought I was trying to steal it. Seeing their chance to become heroes, they forgot about their bladders and started towards me. One of them pulled out a knife.

Part of me wanted to throw the gas can at them and light it, but I couldn’t do that. I know what burns are like. Instead I threw the can at an angle between us. The gas spewed out in a long trail, and when I lit it, the flames leaped up, high enough to reach their zippers if they’d tried to get through. That stopped their charge long enough for me to take off on the bike while they were shaking their fists and swearing at me.

Never did get that humvee. Went back a year later and everything was locked up.

Once I found two humvees and a truck parked together. What a blaze they made! Someday I’m hoping to get a whole motor pool … or a squadron of planes.

Hathaway: Some people would call that violence.

Trucker: Violence means harming people. I’m very careful not to do that. Destroying war machines is depriving the military of their tools of violence. I’m decreasing their ability to harm people. Since they refuse to disarm, I’m doing it for them.

But I admit I’ve got some psychological quirks. I like fire — the huge eruption of flames is magnificent. Torching is an adrenaline high … like dealing. Apparently I need that. Maybe that makes me neurotic, but if so, I’ve managed to channel my neurosis into a socially useful activity — destroying war machines. The real crazies are those who go along with this system and think they’re sane.

It’s probably true that certain personality traits make people more likely to oppose their society. But conservatives use that to discount the rebels’ objections by branding them abnormal. They say radicals have psychological problems, they’re not well adjusted, they have a bad relationship with their father.

But what does it mean to be well adjusted to a society like this? It means you’ve accepted and internalized its values. If you think about what those values really are, it’s insane to do that. The people who do are normal only in the sense that they’re the majority.

And since most fathers are the spear carriers of patriarchy, since they are the power structure, how can we not oppose them? That kind of authority needs to be defied.

Having a “good” relationship with your father isn’t necessarily good. It tends to make people support the powers that be, to want to please them. Kids who need their father’s approval turn into toadies. That’s the only way to please a patriarch. If we want to build a new kind of person, we have to become different from the old kind, and that usually means displeasing them.

Hathaway: Would you prefer matriarchy?

Trucker: I’d prefer no-archy. No group should have power over another group. That’s what anarchy means.

Conservatives conveniently forget that they’re supporting this culture because of their own personality traits. And look at those — the desire to placate authority rather than defy it, to actually become the authority and have power over others, to preserve with violence if necessary an unjust economic system that denies the majority of humanity the basics of a secure life. Those are conservatives. And if you put them under pressure, they become fascists, as we’re seeing.

Hathaway: You’re in your sixties now. Do you have a protégé, someone to, so to speak, pass the torch on to?

Trucker: No. This business is too risky. I’d feel terrible if something happened to them. Also there’s the security issue. With all the government surveillance and infiltration, this sort of work has to be done alone. No one knows what I do except my wife, and they can’t make her testify against me.

Hathaway: Why tell me?

Trucker: I know you won’t turn me in. And if they waterboarded you — always a possibility these days — well, you don’t know where I live or what my name is now. All you have is a webmail address.

But it is a calculated risk. I want to go public in an anonymous way to let people know what’s happening with the resistance movement. The government is hushing up about all the sabotage that’s going on. It’s not just me. I’m just a small part of it. There’s a growing movement to undermine the machine from within. People are trashing recruiters’ offices, slashing their tires, cutting their phone wires, grafittiing-out their billboards. In universities they’re squirting glue into the locks of ROTC departments, stealing their mail, hacking into their computers. The government and corporations have had to set up internal security units to catch their own people who are sabotaging them — leaking secret memos, destroying equipment, zapping computer files. An autonome threw a log under the wheels of an arms train and derailed it. It’s only a matter of time before a vet sets up a mortar outside an air base and starts blowing up Stealth bombers.

The war is coming home where it belongs. But this is just starting, and the government doesn’t want people to know. They’re scared it’ll spread.

Hathaway: Do you want it to spread?

Trucker: Yes. I’m convinced that’s the only way to stop these wars. Make it too costly for the USA to extend its empire. We need to lame the beast so it can’t attack anymore. We have to maximize chaos on all fronts, a thousand different kinds of uprisings so the country becomes ungovernable. That’s the only way to break their hold and build something new.

Hathaway: That’s going to make things tougher at home.

Trucker: Yep, it will … for a while. And that’s why a lot of people are against it. They don’t want to lose their comfort level. That’s more important to them than the lives of millions of people overseas … and the lives of their own grandchildren.

You can’t blame people for wanting to have a pleasant life, but in times like these that turns them into accomplices with the system. The only way life can stay pleasant now is if you play along. The punishments for opposition are getting increasing unpleasant.

But rebelling is invigorating. It’s an authentic life, not the superficial pleasantries of a lackey life.

Even the lackeys are going to lose their precious comfort level before long. Things are getting worse and worse here because that’s the nature of the system. It devours everything.

The country is run by corporate robots. They’re squeezing the people at home and strangling them overseas. And the military is their enforcer. It’s become a monster rampaging out of control, fighting enemies that it itself created, like Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, the Taliban. This beast knows only to kill, and it does that reflexively, mechanically, massively. The leaders elected to stop it end up serving it. Amerika is running amok in a mania of unconscious killing. Amerika is a berserker battling the universe, a gut-shot hyena devouring its own entrails.

We have to stop doing this … and we can. We don’t need to live this way, by bombing and killing.

I want people to know there’s a movement here to resist militarism. It’s rolling. They can be part of it … in many ways.

Hathaway: Would you recommend that people burn trucks?

Trucker: I would not. It’s very dangerous.

Hathaway: What would you recommend that people do?

Trucker: That’s a question only they can answer.

Hathaway: What if you get caught? Would you shoot it out?

Trucker: No, I don’t have any weapons. I don’t believe in killing people for peace. And cops are still people.

I’d probably spend the rest of my life as a prisoner of war in Guantánamo West, that new supermax in Colorado.

Hathaway: Doesn’t that scare you?

Trucker: You bet it does. But even if that happens, my life will have meant something. I’ll have done what I could to stop this monster from invading more countries and murdering more people.

But I don’t think it will happen. I’m very careful. I want to continue the struggle. As Ed Sanders said, “Resist and Survive.”

*****

“Saboteur” is a chapter from Radical Peace: People Refusing War, which presents the experiences of war resisters, deserters, and peace activists in the USA, Europe, Iraq, and Afghanistan. Recently published by Trine Day, the book is a journey along diverse paths of nonviolence, the true stories of people working for peace in unconventional ways. Chapters are posted on a page of the publisher’s website.

William T. Hathaway's other books include A World of Hurt (Rinehart Foundation Award), CD-Ring, and Summer Snow. He is an adjunct professor of American studies at the University of Oldenburg in Germany. A selection of his writing is available. Read other articles by William.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

The End of the Consumerist Model



Big Ideas of 2012

The End of the Consumerist Model

A political and economic imperative.

Situating Occupy: Lessons from the revolutionary past.


The Big Ideas of 2012

Situating Occupy

Lessons from the revolutionary past.

David Graeber , 02 Dec 2011

Perhaps the greatest world historian alive today, Immanuel Wallerstein, has argued that since 1789 all major revolutions have really been world revolutions.

The French revolution might have appeared to only take place in one country, but really it quickly transformed the entire North Atlantic world so profoundly that a mere 20 years later, ideas that had previously been considered lunatic fringe – that social change was good, that governments existed to manage social change, that governments drew their legitimacy from an entity known as the people – had been propelled so deeply into common sense that even the stodgiest conservative had to at least pay lip service to them. In 1848 revolutions broke out almost simultaneously in 50 different countries from Wallachia to Brazil. In no country did the revolutionaries succeed in taking power, but afterwards, institutions inspired by the French revolution – universal education systems, for instance – were created pretty much everywhere.

We see the same pattern recur in the 20th century. The “ten days that shook the world” in 1917 took place in Russia, where revolutionaries did manage to seize state power, but what Wallerstein calls the “world revolution of 1968” was more like 1848: it rippled from China to Czechoslovakia to France to Mexico, took power nowhere, but nonetheless began a broad transformation in our sense of what a revolution might even mean.

In a way, though, the 20th-century sequence was very different because ’68 didn’t consolidate the gains of 1917 – in fact it marked the first significant move in the opposite direction. The Russian revolution of course represented the ultimate apotheosis of the Jacobin ideal of transforming society from above. The world revolution of 1968 was more anarchist in spirit. There’s a strange paradox here since by the late ‘60s anarchism itself had largely disappeared as a mass social movement. Yet its spirit pervaded everything: the revolt against bureaucratic conformity, the rejection of party politics, the dedication to the creation of a new, liberatory culture that would allow for genuine individual self-realization.

The most profound and enduring legacy of the world revolution of ’68 was modern feminism. And it was only through the imperatives and sensibilities introduced by radical feminism, the nonhierarchical consciousness-raising circles, the emergence of consensus process, the emphasis on smoking out every form of inequality, no matter how deeply embedded in our everyday existence, that Anarchism – as a social movement – itself began to take form once again.

In recent years we have seen a kind of continual series of tiny ’68s. The uprisings against state socialism that began in Tiananmen Square and culminated in the collapse of the Soviet Union began that way, though they were quickly diverted into the culmination of that capitalist recuperation of the spirit of ’60s rebellion that has come to be known as “neoliberalism.” After the Zapatista world revolution – they called it the Fourth World War – began in ’94, such mini-’68s began happening so thick and fast the process almost seemed to have become institutionalized: Seattle, Genoa, Cancun, Quebec, Hong Kong ... And insofar as it was indeed institutionalized, by global networks the Zapatistas had helped set up, it was on the basis of a kind of small-a anarchism based on principles of decentralized direct democracy and direct action. The prospect of facing a genuine global democratic movement seems to have so frightened the US authorities, in particular, that they went into veritable panic mode. There is of course a traditional antidote to the threat of mass mobilization from below. You start a war. It doesn’t really matter who the war is against. The point is just to have one; preferably, on as wide a scale as possible. In this case the US government had the extraordinary advantage of a genuine pretext – a ragtag crew of hitherto largely ineffective right-wing Islamists who, for once in history, had attempted a wildly ambitious terrorist scheme and actually pulled it off. Rather than simply track down those responsible, the US began throwing billions of dollars of armament at anything in sight. Ten years later, the resulting paroxysm of imperial overstretch appears to have undermined the very basis of the American Empire. What we are now witnessing is the process of that empire’s collapse.

It only makes sense then that the World Revolution of 2011 should have begun as a rebellion against US client states, in much the same way as the rebellions that brought down Soviet power began in places like Poland and Czechoslovakia. The wave of rebellion soon spread across the Mediterranean from North Africa to Southern Europe, and then, much more uncertainly at first, across the Atlantic to New York. But once it had, in a matter of weeks it had exploded everywhere. At this point it’s extremely difficult to predict how far all this will ultimately go. Truly historical events, after all, consist of precisely those moments that could not have been predicted beforehand. Could we be in the presence of a fundamental shift like 1789 – a shift not only in global power relations but in our elementary political common sense? It’s impossible to say, but there are reasons to be optimistic.

Let me end by listing three:

First, in no previous world revolution has the main center of mobilization been in the imperial center itself. Great Britain, the great imperial power of the 19th century, was barely affected by the uprisings of 1789 and 1848. In the same way, the US remained largely immune from the great revolutionary moments of the 20th century. The decisive street battles typically happen not in the imperial center, nor in the super-exploited margins, but in what might be termed the second tier: not London but Paris, not Berlin but St. Petersburg. The 2011 revolution started according to that familiar pattern, but it has actually spread to the imperial center itself. If this is sustained, it will be quite unprecedented.

Also, this time the power elite can’t start a war. They already tried that. They’re basically out of cards to play in this respect. This makes an enormous difference.

Lastly, the spread of feminist and anarchist sensibilities has opened up the possibility of a genuine cultural transformation. Here is the big question: Can we create a genuinely democratic culture? Can we change our fundamental conceptions of what politics must necessarily be like? For me, the image of middle-aged white guys in suits, in places like Denver or Minneapolis, patiently learning consensus process from pagan priestesses or members of groups like Anarchist People of Color so as to take part in their local General Assemblies (and there are … it’s true! I’ve heard reports) may well be the single most dramatic image to have come out of the Occupy movement so far.

Of course this could be the first moment in yet another round of recuperation and defeat. But if we are witnessing another 1789, a moment where our most basic assumptions about politics, economics, society, are about to be transformed – this is precisely how it would have to begin.

David Graeber, a professor and anarchist activist, has been called “the best anthropological theorist of his generation.” He helped organize #OCCUPYWALLSTREET on the ground in New York. His latest book is Debt: The First 5,000 Years.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Drawing Conclusions on the Wall

Dissident Voice: a radical newsletter in the struggle for peace and social justice


Drawing Conclusions on the Wall

A Review of On the Ground:An Illustrated Anecdotal History of the Sixties Underground Press in the U.S.

There were two types of media my high school friends and I truly looked forward to on our colonial outpost in what was then West Germany. The first was the appearance in the post exchange of the latest album from our favorite band. The other was when one of us received the latest issue of an underground paper from the US. Since we came from towns and cities all over the nation those of us that were so inclined could read undergrounds from all over the nation. I always had a few hidden away in my bedroom to peruse: Quicksilver Times, Kaleidoscope, Berkeley Tribe and Barb, Georgia Straight from Vancouver, BC, and so on. These papers served a multitude of purposes. Like those record albums mentioned above, they kept us abreast of what was going on back in the States culturally (counterculture, that is), politically, and otherwise. In addition, they helped us frame our understanding of our situation in an overseas US military community. They also inspired us to create our own media and protests.

There have been a number of books written about this underground press. The granddaddy of them all is most certainly Uncovering the Sixties: The Life and Times of the Underground Press by retired Northwestern University professor Abe Peck, who began his journalism career as a member of Chicago’s groundbreaking Seed. More recent endeavors include John McMillan’s Smoking Typewriters: The Sixties Underground Press and the Rise of Alternative Media in America and the just-released On the Ground: An Illustrated Anecdotal History of the Sixties Underground Press in the U.S. Edited by Sean Stewart, On the Ground is essentially an oral history that features the recollections of several people that were involved with underground papers from around the United States. Unlike McMillan’s work which runs toward the academic side of things, Stewart’s text has a populist feel to it. The recollections are straight from the speakers’ mouths; sometimes angry, sometimes humorous and always honest.



The best part of the book are the graphics. As I read through the memories of the folks Stewart spoke with for On the Ground I was repeatedly surprised at how well I remembered various illustrations and photographs Stewart reprinted throughout the text. Like the papers his interviewees are remembering, the most striking thing about On the Ground is the layout. Even though I know the book was composed on a computer screen, the book looks as if it were laid out via the old cut and paste method by folks possibly stoned on weed and a day or two with minimal sleep–just like many issues of almost every paper Stewart discusses.

Being in the Movement and the counterculture was generally an upbeat experience. So was being in the Sixties underground media. Most folks were young and full of hope and those that were not necessarily young in years were where it counted–in their approach to life. Reporters did not cover stories as much as they took part in them and then wrote about it afterward. As Abe Peck says about working at The Seed: “We were very determined and unless something terrible happened–like [the murder of] Fred Hampton–up, just pretty upbeat.” Politics was omnipresent, whether it was at a very political paper like The Black Panther or a paper that had a more countercultural bent like The LA Free Press. This was because, as far as the authorities were concerned, everyone involved with the underground press–writers, printers, cartoonists, sellers and readers–were on the wrong side of the law and had to be watched. Sometimes, they were dealt with by methods legal and otherwise. This meant things like the stores selling papers being harassed by police and vigilantes; the withdrawal of advertising because of pressure from the FBI and other agencies; and assaults against persons involved by cops and others.

When Richard Nixon took over the White House in 1969 the repression of the Movement and counterculture intensified. Naturally, this meant that the media that represented these phenomena would be under greater attack. Black Panther papers were destroyed enroute to cities across the country and even to military bases overseas. Storefronts that newspapers worked out of were firebombed by vigilantes and shot at by police. Obscenity charges were brought against newspapers that then tied up the papers’ funds in court costs. High school underground press writers were thrown out of school and administrators suspended students selling and reading those papers. Although the reasons given for the expulsions usually had to do with attendance and other disciplinary infractions, the reality was that high school disciplinarians resented the threat to their authority and power. A friend of mine in Montgomery County, Maryland was suspended from the progressive John F. Kennedy High School for selling The Washington Free Press on campus. The issue in question featured a cartoon of a judge that had been involved in efforts to shut down the paper. The drawing showed the judge masturbating. Underneath the drawing was the phrase (made popular by the TV show Laugh-In) “here com da judge.” The cartoon was a response to a series of rulings made by the judge forbidding the distribution of the Free Press on high school grounds. These rulings and the school board decisions that preceded them were being challenged by the ACLU.

As the 1960s turned over into the 1970s, many folks that had been on the front lines began to retreat for the sake of their sanity. Others just fell into the trap of individualism and self-satisfaction–an easy trap to fall into in the US of A. By 1974 or thereabouts, the curse of identity politics had taken over much of the political discourse on the left and effectively limited the reach of the Movement as people separated according to their gender, sexuality, and ethnic origins. Intentionally or not, this trend hastened the demise of the underground press and the movements it was a part of. However, its legacy remains. There are many websites and even some print journals that are more than observers of the protests and movements they report on. Journalist Alice Embree notes that “The underground press was the connective tissue; it spread the news …” When the papers began to fail, the connectiveness was lessened. The underground press was a vital part of what happened in the sixties. Sean Stewart’s wonderfully edited text On the Ground lets the reader know how and why that remains true. The striking graphics and compelling recollections in this text are at once a popular history and an inspiration.

Ron Jacobs is the author of The Way The Wind Blew: A History of the Weather Underground. He recently released a collection of essays and musings titled Tripping Through the American Night. His latest novel The Co-Conspirator's Tale, is published by Fomite. His first novel, Short Order Frame Up, is published by Mainstay Press. Read other articles by Ron.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Occupy Movement Solidarity: Where are the Professors?

Dissident Voice: a radical newsletter in the struggle for peace and social justice

Occupy Movement Solidarity: Where are the Professors?

Absent from the occupy protests throughout this country, as with most meaningful movements in recent memory, are faculty of our major universities. Aside from the symbolic arrest of Cornel West and passive words of support from Noam Chomsky, the academic profession has been notably absent from this exhilarating movement.

This is particularly bothersome because one of the primary grievances of the protestors is the cost of higher education, and the larger role of indebtedness in informing the present precariousness of young people. Education debt, even more than housing debt, plays a repugnant role in this society, insofar as it preys on the young and ambitious, ultimately leaving citizens shackled to the financial industry for the bulk of their adult lives. Before anyone is capable of making sound fiscal decisions in life, they find themselves five-figures in the red, just for doing what they grew up believing to be the “right thing.”

When British students rallied against fee increases last year, professors were present alongside. The same goes for several waves of protests dealing with fees and the precariousness of youth in France, dating back to the CPE protests of 2006. These alliances between students and faculty were integral to the growth and widespread popularity of these movements. Meanwhile, the student-professor alliance has historically explained the affordability of higher education throughout Western Europe.

In the United States, we see no such alliance. Professors will offer themselves as speakers at rallies or teach-ins, maintaining a top-down relationship with students, but will rarely support as brothers-in-arms. This stems from a social authoritarianism in this culture, where the opinions of the credentialed are taken more seriously than the “commoner.” As someone who has experienced living on both sides of the Atlantic, I can say that Americans have a problem trusting your average person. Rather than judging someone based on the merit of their argument, the American tends to ignore the argument and judge based on ceremonial merit (such as whether the person has a PhD or not.) As such, professors have generally only been involved as credibility lending figureheads in American social movements.

I am happy that Dr. West has participated in this protest, but wish that it wasn’t such a breaking story. He possesses no more intrinsic value than the other 99%, and should be busily organizing his colleagues at Princeton to join along on next visit. The same goes for Chomsky and his colleagues at MIT. If this vigorously anti-totalitarian movement is to thrive, we need the academic egos to dissipate and the academic masses to bring numbers to the protests.

For this to occur, they will have to identify their support as a moral imperative rather than mere intellectual exercise. By allowing the present system of higher education to continue without their condemnation, professors become complicit in the overarching moral crisis this country is facing. Since the beginning of the 80s, American wages have been stagnant, while the average cost of a college education has risen over 4-fold (adjusted for inflation). Meanwhile, we have seen nary a peep of moral outrage from faculty. By excluding Americans of modest means from the enrichment of the university experience, this country is hampering the human potential of millions of young people. By not providing quality higher education to all Americans for free (or a nominal fee), we remain a second-rate society.

Academics are ostensibly progressive in nature: you would expect such of open, intelligent minds. However, they have proven particularly meek in the United States. There are several reasonable explanations for this. For one, we have a climate of repression and anti-intellectualism that is simply not known throughout Western Europe. The recent experiences of Ward Churchill and Norman Finkelstein are evidence enough of this. Furthermore, large American research institutions tend to be located in small “campus towns” rather than inside major urban hubs, thus dislocating professors from the bulk of the industrial workforce. This design has served to de-radicalize labor through the last century, and also explains the lack of involvement of professors in the ongoing protests (though there are a few notable universities on Manhattan). Moreover, many professors enjoy tenure and six-figure salaries, thus outpacing their Western European counterparts. This serves to supplement their geographic isolation from labor with added socioeconomic distance.

Nonetheless, this professorial passivity must end: not solely for the aforementioned moral reasons, but also because professors have an important stake in this political moment. As austerity measures have placed an increasing pinch on the higher education system, knowledge is treated as more of a commodity than a social good. Universities are forced to run more like businesses than loci of the grands discours. This commodification of knowledge has resulted in the increasing social alienation of professors. Tight university systems, intent on cutting costs and increasing class sizes, will increasingly see professors as expendable. You compound this with the growing authoritarianism in post 9-11 America and professors will increasingly feel pressured to conform or produce favorable results (a la the University of Chicago Economics Department).

Lastly, professors possess great power to change the financial racket that poses as higher education in this country. They are the mode of production for that industry. A national professor’s strike committed to the long-haul will force states to close their budget shortfalls through progressive tax measures or sane monetary policy. The latter is just one way to address systemic pre-tax injustices in our economic system: spend money into existence rather than charging the people interest by lending into existence. Either way, forced with a non-compliant faculty at their flagships school, states will have to learn to get innovative, if that is possible with the class of charlatans that governs from both political parties.

Professors largely supported Barack Obama in the 2008 election. As with most other progressives in this country, they fell into the passivity of hope. At this juncture, we need them to muster the courage for action. It is their moral imperative, and also in their own interest. In order to defend the integrity of the academic profession, the vision of education as a social good and a right to all regardless of class, professors need to join the 99%. When is it going to happen?

Matt Reichel is a writer currently living in New Orleans. He can be reached at: mereichel@gmail.com. Read other articles by Matt, or visit Matt's website.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Occupy the future: Eight steps to being the 99 per cent



Occupy the future: Eight steps to being the 99 per cent

By Michael Kaufman | October 18, 2011

The genius of the Occupy movement is the proclamation, from the outset, that it represents 99 per cent of the population.

That stands as a far cry from the huge youth movement in the late 1960s/early 1970s. We made a fundamental mistake in those days: we were not only content but we were thrilled to be a minority. We loved being different and outsiders. True, this gave us energy and a collective identity against a culture we despised and mistrusted. But we effectively abandoned the mainstream to the right.

This was more than a shame. It paved the way for 30 years of increasing social disparities and cuts to social services. At that time, the majority of people were what we'd now think of as liberal; many identified with ideas that now seem on the left. Even most conservatives of the day would have shuddered to hear the rhetoric of the Tea Party and their slightly less-lunatic cousins in governments from the United States to Canada, England and beyond. It should have been a golden time for progressive forces to permanently shift the social and economic landscape. True, we helped stop the war in Vietnam and true, we launched powerful movements (feminism, gay rights, environmental) and supported others (civil rights) that live on and have indeed reshaped mainstream thought. But in many ways, we failed.

The Occupy movement, now just at its beginning, has the potential to go beyond the New Left. After all, not since the U.S. right wing proclaimed itself the "Moral Majority" in the mid-1970s has anyone had the temerity to do two things: First, at a time when they were a minority, the right wing boldly declared itself the majority. Second, while the actual majority was questioning the morality of war, discrimination and inequality, the right wing claimed and captured moral momentum and the moral high ground.

The Occupy movement is boldly going beyond a statement that we are the majority by proclaiming we are the 99 per cent.

And here, then, is the biggest challenge: It's one thing to say we're the 99 per cent, it's quite another to be the 99 per cent.

Eight steps to being the 99 per cent

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1. To be the 99 per cent means, by definition, that we are claiming the mainstream.

We should not fear to be mainstream. Rather, if we believe that our ideas are good and just, then we should want those ideas to be accepted by the mainstream. If we know that our ideal of a low-carbon, sustainable economy is both necessary and practical, then we should want this ideal to be part of the status quo. If we know that a much more egalitarian society is a more humane, less violent, and more productive one, then we know these are ideals for everyone.

2. Claiming the mainstream does not mean, however, we have to fit into what the mainstream currently defines as "realistic."

Social, economic and political realism is what we collectively create. The current mainstream does not see it as realistic to spend billions to prevent the worst effects of climate change or to provide safe drinking water to the people of the world, but thinks it is "realistic" to spend trillions on wars or to bail out private banks. Our job is to help redefine what is realistic.

3. Creating bridges to the mainstream.

This is the biggest challenge to becoming the 99 per cent. It literally requires reaching that 99 per cent with our message. It requires facilitating a process for others to identify with our ideals -- to truly be the 99 per cent. In the months and years ahead, we need to find ways to create those bridges. We have to see ourselves as the bridge-builders: since we're coming from the outside with a new social and economic vision, we can't expect, in advance, that our sisters and brothers of the 99 per cent will automatically see things our way. It is our job to reach out to them. This has many practical implications: It means going to where people are to engage in a respectful discussion to win them to our views; to places of worship and classrooms, shopping centres and workplaces, unions and service clubs, seniors homes and community groups, and the media. We will be confronted with many who disagree, even demonize us. Our job is to model respect, refuse to demonize others, and to present our ideas in language that each group can most easily identify with and see as their own. Why? So they will best discover ways to articulate our common vision to those around them.

4. Creating bridges also means forming common cause with people and organizations we may not agree with about many things but with whom we can find principled areas for a united voice.

This can be uncomfortable and difficult for us to accept! But, for example, a trade union might support an environmentally disastrous industry, but we can find common cause to speak with one voice about social and economic inequalities. Similarly, a church group may oppose abortion rights, but we can find ways to speak together for measures to reduce greenhouse gas emissions or for public health care. A student association may support military spending, but we can work with them to insist that education should be available to all. Those things we disagree about are indeed critical issues and for those who've been active so far in the Occupy movement, we know these issues are all linked to our concerns. But if we truly want to be the 99 per cent, we have to see that the 99 per cent includes many people we disagree with about fundamental matters. The question is how to engage in a healthy discussion with them? How do we work together to advance our common objectives? Working together, we can agree to disagree on things dear to both our hearts, but also strive to have an ongoing and respectful conversation about those differences. Again, if we truly believe our ideas should and will be the ideas of the majority, we need to have some faith in our long-term capacity to have an impact on others. Nothing greater will threaten the 1 per cent than forms of unity, in spite of many differences, among the 99 per cent!

5. Don't worry about the naysayers who criticize us for not having "clear demands."

The most powerful thing about the Occupy movement is that it is unleashing a society-wide conversation about social inequality and, to a lesser extent, a range of other human rights, social, political, and economic issues. That in itself is a huge victory in only a month. A big part of our work is to nurture that conversation.

6. At the same time, it is important that we continue to encourage streams of conversations about economic, social and political alternatives.

There's nothing wrong with having answers! What are some practical measures to greatly reduce social and economic disparities? What does a more democratic society look like? How can we deepen political democracy and extend democracy to control of the economy? What parts of the economy should be public services and not in private hands? How can we develop effective global income taxes and global responses to climate change and economic disparities? How can public policies encourage the growth of diverse economic models including more cooperatives, more public ownership, more small business, and more non-profits with the type of power and impact that large corporations now monopolize? What do we need to do to ensure sustainable economies? And much, much more.

7. Be suspicious of those who want to polarize and of those who preach violence or the destruction of property (no matter how venal are the owners of that property).

Such actions are the dead ends of social movements. They are the hallmarks of powerlessness. They will isolate us. They will stop us from becoming the 99 per cent.

8. Trust our capacity to live the changes we believe in. Trust our capacity to win over the great majority to our beliefs.

Trust that we can model respect and compassion. Trust that we have the capacity to build bridges and patiently change minds. Trust that we will be part of finding new answers. Trust that we can truly be the 99 per cent.

Michael Kaufman is a writer, educator, and the co-founder of the White Ribbon Campaign, the largest effort in the world of men working to end violence against women. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter @GenderEQ.


Monday, October 17, 2011

Statement from Occupy Wall St

Winter Patriot Community Blog


Statement from Occupy Wall St

newjesustimes's picture

I received this in my email this morning from a mailing list I'm on called NationofChange. I endorse this message smiling

Dear Readers,

What follows is the first official, collective statement of the protesters in Zuccotti Park:

As we gather together in solidarity to express a feeling of mass injustice, we must not lose sight of what brought us together. We write so that all people who feel wronged by the corporate forces of the world can know that we are your allies.

As one people, united, we acknowledge the reality: that the future of the human race requires the cooperation of its members; that our system must protect our rights, and upon corruption of that system, it is up to the individuals to protect their own rights, and those of their neighbors; that a democratic government derives its just power from the people, but corporations do not seek consent to extract wealth from the people and the Earth; and that no true democracy is attainable when the process is determined by economic power. We come to you at a time when corporations, which place profit over people, self-interest over justice, and oppression over equality, run our governments. We have peaceably assembled here, as is our right, to let these facts be known.

* They have taken our houses through an illegal foreclosure process, despite not having the original mortgage.
* They have taken bailouts from taxpayers with impunity, and continue to give Executives exorbitant bonuses.
* They have perpetuated inequality and discrimination in the workplace based on age, the color of one's skin, sex, gender identity and sexual orientation.
* They have poisoned the food supply through negligence, and undermined the farming system through monopolization.
* They have profited off of the torture, confinement, and cruel treatment of countless animals, and actively hide these practices.
* They have continuously sought to strip employees of the right to negotiate for better pay and safer working conditions.
* They have held students hostage with tens of thousands of dollars of debt on education, which is itself a human right.
* They have consistently outsourced labor and used that outsourcing as leverage to cut workers' healthcare and pay.
* They have influenced the courts to achieve the same rights as people, with none of the culpability or responsibility.
* They have spent millions of dollars on legal teams that look for ways to get them out of contracts in regards to health insurance.
* They have sold our privacy as a commodity.
* They have used the military and police force to prevent freedom of the press.
* They have deliberately declined to recall faulty products endangering lives in pursuit of profit.
* They determine economic policy, despite the catastrophic failures their policies have produced and continue to produce.
* They have donated large sums of money to politicians, who are responsible for regulating them.
* They continue to block alternate forms of energy to keep us dependent on oil.
* They continue to block generic forms of medicine that could save people's lives or provide relief in order to protect investments that have already turned a substantial profit.
* They have purposely covered up oil spills, accidents, faulty bookkeeping, and inactive ingredients in pursuit of profit.
* They purposefully keep people misinformed and fearful through their control of the media.
* They have accepted private contracts to murder prisoners even when presented with serious doubts about their guilt.
* They have perpetuated colonialism at home and abroad.
* They have participated in the torture and murder of innocent civilians overseas.
* They continue to create weapons of mass destruction in order to receive government ontracts.*

To the people of the world, We, the New York City General Assembly occupying Wall Street in Liberty Square, urge you to assert your power.

Exercise your right to peaceably assemble; occupy public space; create a process to address the problems we face, and generate solutions accessible to everyone.

To all communities that take action and form groups in the spirit of direct democracy, we offer support, documentation, and all of the resources at our disposal.

Join us and make your voices heard!

NationofChange has been an unfiltered media resource for the Occupy Wall Street movement even while the mainstream media has ignored, censored, and undermined the progress of the people.


What to do if you're arrested or stopped by the police

MICHAEL BLUEJAY

award-winning writer

"The seventh-best site on the web!"
-- Cockeyed.com


What to do if you're arrested or stopped by the police

When you're stopped by the police, you run the risk of being arrested or hurt, or both. Most officers will not act improperly, but whether they act properly or not you still need to protect your rights and keep yourself safe.

If you're stopped or arrested, try to avoid conflict to keep the police calm. The following tips may help. They're combined from several sources (including the ACLU and myself). I'm not a lawyer and I can't tell you anything beyond what I have listed here. -- M. Bluejay, 7-00


What to do when you are stopped

  1. Stay calm and in control of your words, body language, and emotions.
  2. Do not run or walk away. Keep your hands where police can see them -- don't put them in your pockets. (Don't make the police nervous by wondering if you have a weapon.) Don't make any sudden movements. Never touch a police officer.
  3. Be polite and respectful.
  4. Give your name and address only if you're asked to, but remember you don't need to say anything more. (The caveat is that if the police are annoyed by your refusal to say more, they may take you to the station out of spite.) Remember, anything you say or do can be used against you later.
  5. To search you or your vehicle the police must have a warrant, or have arrested you, or have probable cause that you committed a crime. If the police lack these they may ask you for permission to search. If you GIVE them permission, then you can't argue later in court that they performed an illegal search.
  6. Try to remember the officers' physical decriptions. Try to memorize badge numbers, names, license plate numbers, and police car numbers. Once the police stop questioning you, write all this down as soon as you are able.
  7. Ask bystanders to stand at a discreet distance and observe. The police are less likely to do something wrong if there are people watching. People have a right to stand at a reasonable distance and observe as long as they do not interfere. (The police may consider that bystanders repeatedly asking them questions constitutes "interference".) Get the names and phone numbers of the witnesses afterward in case you need them in the future.
  8. If you are being abused, don't resist. Once multiple officers start hurting you, you can't stop them by resisting, and struggling may only encourage them. Think of a cat playing with a mouse -- while the mouse is struggling, the cat is excited, but when the mouse stops moving, the cat loses interest. In some cases, the police may continue to abuse you even if you don't struggle, but since struggling can't help you, it's best not to try.
  9. If the police let you go and you are injured, take photographs of the injuries as soon as possible, but make sure you seek medical attention first.
  10. If you feel your rights have been violated, file a written complaint. Keep a copy of the complaint, and make sure a family member or close friend has a copy.


If you're arrested

1. Do not resist arrest, even if you believe you are innocent. You will be arrested anyway, and then you'll have the additional charge of Resisting Arrest. Also, the police are more likely to hurt people who resist arrest.
2. If you are told that you are under arrest, give only the name, address, and telephone number of you, your immediate family, and your employer. This information is needed in setting bail.
3. You have a right to remain silent. Say only, "I want to talk to a lawyer." If the police continue to question you, do not answer. Also, do not speak on a video tape or to a district attorney about anything. Remember, it's in the police officers' best interest to get you to incriminate yourself. If you're arrested with somebody else, don't talk with them about the incident in the back of the police car even when the police are not in the car; many police cars now secretly make video or audio recordings of such conversations.
4. You have a right to make one phone call to your family, lawyer, or organization (remember the phone you use may be tapped).
5. Do not act defiant or talk about filing complaints. You do not want the police to retaliate against you while you're in their custody.
6. You will be handcuffed searched, photographed, and finger-printed.
7. Try to get the names and badge numbers of the police who arrested you or deal with you in the police station. (This information is your right.)


If your friend is arested

1. Write down the officers' names, badge numbers, and car number. The police do not have to give you their badge numbers unless you're the one being arrested, though. Be polite and don't threaten to file a complaint; you don't want them to arrest you too out of spite. I've seen it happen.
2. Write down the time, date, and place of the incident.
3. Get the names and phone numbers of witnesses.
4. If possible, photograph or videotape the incident.
5. Get a name of a relative to contact if the person is arrested.
6. Ask on what charge your friend was arrested and where (s)he is being taken.

Cell Phone Guide for Occupy Wall Street Protesters (and Everyone Else)

Defending your rights in the digital world


October 14, 2011 - 6:05pm | By Eva Galperin

Occupy Wall Street has called for a global day of action on October 15, and protesters are mobilizing all over the world. In the United States, the Occupy Wall Street movement has already spawned sizeable protests in New York, Washington DC, Boston, Seattle, San Francisco, Oakland, Austin, and other cities. Several of these movements have faced opposition from their local police departments, including mass arrests.

Protesters of all political persuasions are increasingly documenting their protests -- and encounters with the police -- using electronic devices like cameras and cell phones. The following tips apply to protesters in the United States who are concerned about protecting their electronic devices when questioned, detained, or arrested by police. These are general guidelines; individuals with specific concerns should talk to an attorney.

1. Protect your phone before you protest

Think carefully about what’s on your phone before bringing it to a protest. Your phone contains a wealth of private data, which can include your list of contacts, the people you have recently called, your text messages, photos and video, GPS location data, your web browsing history and passwords, and the contents of your social media accounts. We believe that the police are required to get a warrant to obtain this information, but the government sometimes asserts a right to search a phone incident to arrest -- without a warrant. (And in some states, including California, courts have said this is OK.) To protect your rights, you may want to harden your existing phone against searches. You should also consider bringing a throwaway or alternate phone to the protest that does not contain sensitive data and which you would not mind losing or parting with for a while. If you have a lot of sensitive or personal information on your phone, the latter might be a better option.

Password-protect your phone - and consider encryption options. To ensure the password is effective, set the “password required” time to zero, and restart phone before you leave your house. Be aware that merely password-protecting or locking your phone is not an effective barrier to expert forensic analysis. Some phones also have encryption options. Whispercore is a full-disk encryption application for Android, and Blackberry also has encryption tools that might potentially be useful. Note that EFF has not tested these tools and does not endorse them, but they are worth checking into.

Back up the data on your phone. Once the police have your phone, you might not get it back for a while. Also, something could happen, whether intentional or not, to delete information on your phone. While we believe it would be improper for the police to delete your information, it may happen anyway.

2. You’re at the protest – now what?

Maintain control over your phone. That might mean keeping the phone on you at all times, or handing it over to a trusted friend if you are engaging in action that you think might lead to your arrest.

Consider taking pictures and video. Just knowing that there are cameras watching can be enough to discourage police misconduct during a protest. EFF believes that you have the First Amendment right to document public protests, including police action. However, please understand that the police may disagree, citing various local and state laws. If you plan to record audio, you should review the Reporter’s Committee for Freedom of the Press helpful guide Can We Tape?.

3. Help! Help! I’m being arrested

Remember that you have a right to remain silent -- about your phone and anything else. If questioned by police, you can politely but firmly ask to speak to your attorney.

If the police ask to see your phone, you can tell them you do not consent to the search of your device. They might still legally be able to search your phone without a warrant when they arrest you, but at least it’s clear that you did not give them permission to do so.

If the police ask for the password to your electronic device, you can politely refuse to provide it and ask to speak to your lawyer. Every arrest situation is different, and you will need an attorney to help you sort through your particular circumstance. Note that just because the police cannot compel you to give up your password, that doesn’t mean that they can’t pressure you. The police may detain you and you may go to jail rather than being immediately released if they think you’re refusing to be cooperative. You will need to decide whether to comply.

4. The police have my phone, how do I get it back?

If your phone or electronic device was illegally seized, and is not promptly returned when you are released, you can file a motion with the court to have your property returned. If the police believe that evidence of a crime was found on your electronic device, including in your photos or videos, the police can keep it as evidence. They may also attempt to make you forfeit your electronic device, but you can challenge that in court.

Cell phone and other electronic devices are an essential component of 21st century protests. Whether at Occupy Wall Street or elsewhere, all Americans can and should exercise their First Amendment right to free speech and assembly, while intelligently managing the risks to their property and privacy.