Here is another post from my cousin Owen out in Oakland/San Francisco. I’m sharing it because it is a great first person account of what peaceful demonstrators are facing on a daily basis in this country that is supposed to not only allow, but protect, the rights of free speech and assembly. I am sharing this because I want to help remind all of us of the power that we the people, we the 99%, have. Finally, I’m sharing this because another world is possible, and one way that we will achieve our visions for a better world is to enact and create those alternatives now. We will exercise our rights. We will stand up for ourselves and one another. And we will use direct action, inclusive consensus decision making, courage and hope to be the change that we wish to see.
By Owen S. Andrews 12/7/11
Tonight I received a mass text that Occupy SF would be retaking Justin Herman Plaza, where they had been evicted by a police raid the night before. I got down there around 4:30 and saw lots of cops and lots of media, but no protesters, so I walked back up to the BART station. There I found a group of less than 100, eating donated food and connecting with one another over a pretty sophisticated PA system. Around 5:30 we decided to march in the middle of rush hour-clogged Market Street the two blocks to Justin Herman Plaza. It was thrilling and unnerving because I had just seen dozens of police officers milling around the Plaza.
Since no specific strategy had been laid out as to how we were going to retake the Plaza, a torrent of beautiful chaos spilled through the police lines, like water finding the fastest way downhill. More people had joined us, bringing the total to over 300. Facilitators from Occupy SF began to conduct a General Assembly, calling for report backs from working groups and committees. A pup tent was erected within the crowd. Then police began filing in, cutting the PA off from the center of the plaza. Many people backed away toward the sidewalks, but a group of about 30 of us held our ground, linking arms and sitting in a crescent around the tent in the gravel of the bocci ball court.
I was pretty scared and my legs were shaking. The warmth of the arms and bodies I was linked to on either side felt strong and sure, anchoring me in place. The old gray-haired man on my right turned to me and said, “This makes me proud to be an American again,” while the younger guy on my left introduced himself and gave me a reassuring smile. Three or four dozen officers had formed a ring around us; at the same time a couple hundred protesters began forming an outer ring around the police. As the dust settled, a few scuffles broke out along the outer ring. Two protesters were tackled to the ground by SFPD, and it did not go unnoticed that in a majority white crowd, one of the men—who was beaten severely—was black and the other Latino.
Three or four more protesters were handcuffed and arrested for silly things, like throwing a binder over the heads of the police. We were then informed that everyone inside the circle of police was subject to arrest for violating a parks code, something about entering a “closed” park. We looked at one another soberly, passing around water bottles and hand rolling cigarettes. No one was being allowed in or out of the circle, but the crowd outside was growing bigger and bigger, with four people scaling the Muni (trolley) stop roof to wave banners.
The man who had been beaten was still lying face down in the gravel, his hands cuffed behind his back. He was shaking and sobbing in pain. People were demanding he get medical attention, but a half-dozen beefy cops were standing around him, not letting anyone near. Although 911 had been called immediately, the response time was suspiciously slow. Finally the police allowed a trained medic on the inside of the circle to take his pulse, place some cardboard between his cheek and the gravel, and drape a blanket over his shivering body. It was difficult to watch someone so close suffer so needlessly, and I had to walk away several times.
Then after a half hour or so, the SF Fire Department paramedics arrived on the scene. At first the cops wouldn’t let them through. Everyone was booing the police and cheering the medics, dressed in full firefighter gear. After some negotiating, four or five medics were allowed through. They immediately started comforting the injured, cuffed man. A gurney was brought in, and they loaded him on to it, strapping his head, arms and legs down and putting a neck brace on him. As he was wheeled away, the crowed cheered.
It became clear to me that the police had put themselves in a precarious situation, and I wondered whether it was accidental or if they were fishing for provocation to use greater force. More police and more protesters continued to join their respective circles.
The cops then informed us that if we agreed to leave the Plaza, they would let us off with a written citation. As a sweetener, they said they would allow the four remaining handcuffed people to leave as well. If we refused, we were all subject to arrest, and the handcuffed people were subject to more serious charges. With this communication, we convened a makeshift huddle, using a bullhorn and the people’s mic.
Through a straw poll, we learned that not all the folks who had remained in the center of the Plaza had been aware that they would be arrested if they stayed. Others had tried to leave early on but had been cut off by the police. These people were only a half dozen out of about forty of us, including a few people from a progressive Chinese-American community group. After some discussion, we began to cobble together a counter-proposal. It involved asking the police to allow us to continue our GA. It seemed nebulous and weak, so I spoke con to it, saying that we didn’t need police permission to continue our GA because we were already doing just that, that we should encourage the people outside the police circle to have their own GA if the cops wouldn’t let them through, that we had no way of knowing the police would keep their word, and that we shouldn’t let them use the four handcuffed people as hostages because we were all facing arrest together. Other people spoke pro or added friendly amendments, and the following emerged:
1) Anyone who wanted to avoid arrest would leave immediately
2) We would refuse the police proposal
3) We would state the need to hold a GA
4) We would encourage the people outside police lines to join our GA or hold their own GA on the south side of the Plaza which was not blocked off by police
It’s almost unbelievable that we were able to conceive and consense on this at all, with cops standing feet away taking notes and people outside the circle yelling at us to communicate immediately with them as we went along. The three or so people who facilitated, synthesized, and communicated (to the outside group) the proposal deserve immense credit. Using the bullhorn and the people’s mic, we relayed our counterproposal to the PA system on the other side of the police line and they broadcast it across the Plaza. Then a city councilman got on the PA to thank the police for being peaceful—he was shouted down by the crowd. After him the Police Chief got on the mic and told us that the citation would be dropped against the people in the center if we left the park immediately. As he finished his sentence, I yelled out, “Whose Park?” and the response of the crowd rang out loud and firm, “Our Park!” “Whose Park?”
“Our Park!”
“Whose Park?”
“Our Park!”
Everyone inside the circle started looking at each other with a new sense of hope. Maybe we weren’t facing imminent arrest anymore. Maybe the tide was turning. We were patting each other on the back and telling one another that every second the standoff continued was a victory for us because it made the cops look powerless and unsure. Just then the cops on the south side started filing out, and the whole ring of police snaked out in single file. We were all cheering and hugging one another!
We then resumed the GA, after what everyone agreed had been a very rude interruption. Two or three tents started popping up, even as the pros and cons of putting up tents here and now were discussed.
I stayed through the GA and open mic afterwards. Then I wandered over to the 7-11 and bought a bunch of peanuts and bananas for the campers, and hot cocoa for myself. After passing the food out and chatting for awhile, I hopped on BART around 11. As I walked down Market, I saw dozens of cops inside the Hyatt lobby. Apparently Hyatt management lets them stage all police actions against the camp in their underground parking garage. Go figure.
I was exhausted, but I feel good about what happened and my little part in it. This is how to respond to overwhelming police repressions—with overwhelming expressions of civil rights and determination.
