Blue Bloc runs amok at G7

Blue Bloc runs amok at G7
by Pierre-Luc 2:52pm Sun Jun 16 '02
pluck [at] tao.ca

an atlantic G7 communique

Blue Bloc runs amok
(hfx) 15 june 2002
by jon elmer

It wasn’t a riot until the police (aka the Blue Bloc) said it was. But by that time, about 25 people had been arrested and the cops were swinging their sticks, throwing their tear gas grenades, shooting their rubber bullets, and generally flexing their artificial muscles buried deep inside their full-body armour. It didn’t matter that nothing was broken, nothing was thrown, nobody was endangered, because most of the arrests were targeted – the states’ ‘certificate of merit’ for the most effective organizers. Double honours go to those organizers tackled from behind by plainclothes officers, surely the strongest affirmation that ideas and a megaphone are far more threatening to the ‘masters of the universe’ than any rock or spray can.

I watched at least half a dozen arrests that will surely result in the activist being booked for ‘uttering democratic insults at the state’s storm-troopers’’. But, as Mr. Bush II says, we are at war, and as such we must certainly be careful not to insult our officers when they arrest our 120-lbs girlfriends by slamming them to the concrete. In fact, as I watched a hard-working activist get bounced off the curb from the blind-side, I tried to think why a 220-lbs armoured gorilla was attacking a girl half his size. I remembered it was she who laid flowers at the feet of the riot police in front of the conference centre. So it went on Day Two of the G7 finance ministerial meetings in Halifax.

On Saturday, police did what they do best: protect the interests of the few, while violating those of the many, and blaming this repeat phenomenon upon those who were arbitrarily arrested. It is an interesting exercise; one made possible only because the slovenly corporate media were long-gone by that point, content to file stories that fail to draw even the simplest connections between ‘bandanna clad protesters’ and the tear gas/pepper cocktails that the police were launching. The initial reports filed by the ‘professional’ journalists, surely to be read by millions of Canadians over coffee tomorrow morning, contain such ridiculous assertions that I had to double-check it was the right protest: one arrest? protesters running amok and pepper spraying media and cops? Interesting, since I was standing beside the very reporters, watching the very same scene – to be honest, it was me telling them to stand still and not touch their eyes after they got gassed and pepper sprayed by the Blue Bloc. It is either willful ignorance or sheer idiocy: neither of which are particularly desirable traits of a ‘free press’.

As the noon-time march reached the conference centre, it was quickly apparent that the festive attitude of the authorities to Friday night’s ‘mobile street party’ did not extend into Saturday. It was obvious on three fronts: first, the spit flying from the clearly drugged German Shepherds in uniform (no really, the doggers get ‘police’ jackets) as they tore at metal railings; second, the numerous cops with tear gas belts proudly displayed; third, the chief had surely scanned his roster and chose only those larger than 6 feet tall and fatter than 200 lbs.

Greeted with such a scenario, the first order of business for protesters was to remove those pesky metal barricades – with a few grand in hockey equipment, shields, clubs, guns, 3:1 ratio in the cops’ favour, those impotent metal barriers were superfluous, and treated as such. What resulted was an intimate standoff between several hundred (my heart says a thousand, but I just condemned shoddy reporting) protesters of all stripes – raging granny to kindergarten agitator, anarchist to pedestrian ‘sympathizer’.

As police courageously attempted to gain the five-feet of road that had acted as a buffer between them and the unarmed, unarmoured dissenters, an innocuous confrontation ensued as the lines swayed against one another. Innocuous, that is, to one of common sense, but to police it was surely a sign of a security breach demanding dispersal of the crowd with tear gas. So they fired away, and what a thrill it was for all those involved: the street medics were able to practice treating the agonizing burn with [maalox solution], the photographers (I’ll post pics soon) were able to get action shots, the corporate media got their tantalizing lead paragraphs, the cops got to play with their brand new toys (which were delivered fresh for the G7 weekend), and the tourists cruising the downtown core got to sneeze and itch as the gas faded out over the harbour.

After about two hours of reverberating drumming commotion within 50 metres of the front doors, the crowd began to move through the streets above the conference centre, towards Citadel Hill. It was here that the police tactics, or lack thereof, shone most apparent. When swarms of robo-cops began to emerge from the woodwork like red ants, from all directions, protestors were squeezed up onto Citadel Hill (a 19th-century fort complete with defensive ditch, ramparts, musketry gallery, powder magazine, signal masts and a really steep hill – the most defensible spot in the British Empire), while literally hundreds of police converged from three directions and stood face to face to face in the abandoned intersection below. This lunacy ended up looking like a police academy drill, prompting cat calls from the hill about who might win between the warrior units: RCMP vs city police, Feds vs. locals.

With this flash point turning stale and marginalized upon a massive green hill, activists moved across the Citadel and down onto Spring Garden Road. Now on Halifax’s main commercial drag, the marchers moved up the street and the police began making targeted arrests using their new electric tazer-guns. We were fired upon by a volley of rubber bullets (actually, they were like bath beads filled with noxious pepper) and forced to move back down the street with fresh images of the violent implications of not adhering. During the initial confusion the cops grabbed our 50-foot banner that read ‘No one is free while others are oppressed’ and stuffed it into a garbage can, much to the surprise of the pedestrian onlookers.

The crowd marched (maybe was herded, depending who you ask) through the downtown, as cops filled the tiny streets, forcing everyone toward the harbour. By this point, the aforementioned ‘free press’ were long ago home, providing a fanciful opportunity for police impunity. In front of the famous Halifax Farmer’s Market the cops made their move, clearly dropping their procedural manuals as they broke into a run, snagging, slamming, and tackling those on the ‘wanted for advancing social justice’ list, those in the way, and those verbally condemning the assault.

Once the melee had subsided, most of my friends and allies were being booked on dubious charges, their names checked off the lists that the sergeants carried on their clipboards. No longer was it a ‘mystery’ who the ‘undercovers’ were, nor was it up for debate as to which side was more violent – both systemically and overtly. In short, it was nothing new, nothing surprising; it was simply state-sanctioned violence against those elements that strive to advance the interests of the many, mandated by those who constitute an ever diminishing few. It is a tactic as aged as imperialism itself, and a surefire affirmation that we are being effective.

Epilogue: To those arrested for absolutely nothing more than creativity, intelligence, articulation, organization, leadership and dedication (not to mention tireless leafleting and postering and wielding that megaphone) – Doctor Ron offers this prescription:

“Courage, devotion, the spirit of sacrifice, are as contagious as cowardice, submission, and panic” – Peter Kropotkin, The Spirit of Revolt, 1884

http://www.redblackflag.org