I’ve been thinking more today about the notion of public space and some of the challenges that go along with it. From what little I have picked up from listening in, there seems to be an awareness among some of the organizers that the protests need to be a welcoming space. Essentially, if this movement is about “the 99%,” then roughly the same crowd should feel at liberty enter the space.
The crowd seemed a little thin, when I was there on Monday evening, and the reasons were obviously sensory. First, as you walk through certain portions of the plaza, the smell is rather egregious. Now, I think that part of this is due to the fact that some homeless have begun to gather in the area, attracted by the free food and lack of move-it-along police presence. If that is the case, then more power to you. The protestors are living out their values and they are to be commended for it. I only worry that there may be some recreational homelessness going on, as well. If you are resolved to sleep out there indefinitely, I tip my cap. If, however, your buddy is willing to let you use his shower at some point during the day, it would be neighborly to take him up on it.
The more pressing and offensive assault was auditory. At one end of the square was a drum circle that had become blob-like, acquiring an electric and an acoustic guitar(s), along with a singer who was spirited, but not particularly in tune. The result was an amorphous jam session in which the singer would periodically belt lines from popular songs (everything from MJ to Lauryn Hill to Third Eye Blind) when their melodies aligned (somewhat) with what the blob was producing. For many, this epitomizes how a revolution should be–replete with free expression. After a while, though, the reality of that free expression is rather maddening.
But there is a larger force repelling people that is the fault of the public-at-large, rather than the protesters. Many people I talk to who are sympathetic to the spirit of the movement do not want to go down to the protests out of an aversion to “that crowd.” For those who understand Baltimore parlance, they assume it is simply the “Red Emma’s” people. (Non-Baltimoreans: Red Emma’s is an independent, “radical” bookstore/coffeeshop. There is probably an equivalent in your town, too, although I’m drawing a blank for the Twin Cities).
To put it in plain-speak, there is a sense that these are the people who would be protesting whether there was something to protest or not. Those who do not see themselves as part of that “scene,” I sense, worry that they will go down to protest corporate control of the political process and wind up either feeling unwelcome or getting caught in the middle of a demonstration against capitalism itself. In some cases, there may be evidence to support those fears, but more often than not I think it’s pretty knee-jerk. Besides, those aren’t bad people; they just aren’t part of your circle. Here’s an issue you agree on, so what’s the harm in going down to protest for a Saturday afternoon? (My critique sounds trivial and rings of junior high, but so does the behavior).
These protests should be about furthering a collective interest and not a particular identity. Coming together is an art and it’s a lost art. So, if you are unable to bathe, because you don’t have the facilities, then let us help you find support. But if you are able to bathe but choose not to because it’s not “protest chic,” maybe you should consider the fact that you’re not helping the movement by causing spectators to gag. Also, “jamming” should be done in moderation. Always. Under all circumstances. The goal here is not simply for you to be you, but also for your neighbor to be your neighbor and, ultimately, for us to be us. Remember, Woodstock was just a concert and its cultural legacy should not be confused with that of the Civil Rights Movement.
At some point, American politics became more about identity than ideology. We started caring more about being “red states” and “blue states” than knowing what that actually meant. It took a catastrophic event to remind us of our shared plight and our intertwined fate. Now, we all find ourselves out of our seats, faced with the task of rallying to a common struggle to topple an entrenched interest.
There has been so much hot air and spilled ink about how Occupy Wall Street compares to the Tea Party. Maybe Occupy Wall Street is the Tea Party, and they us. Maybe we are all lashing out in response to a shared wound with a common indignance, but have become so segmented that even our catharsis has to be boutique.
The day we all force ourselves to sit in the same square on the same day is the day the change comes.