This Is What Democracy Looks Like

March 20, 2003

Anthem Salgado

“This is what democracy looks like!” was on of many hymns that rang from the masses in what many say is San Francisco City’s largest display of civil-disobedience. Other anthems were “Support our troops; bring them home.” and “No blood for oil.” As promised, people took to the streets, some as early as 7 a.m., the day following the first bombings in Iraq to demonstrate their outrage and their persevering stance of Anti-War. Day and night, every minute since, is occupied with the ever-present chop of three or more helicopters at a time circling the skies. They are buzzards for data employed by news media as well as California Highway Patrol.

       Not even the Peace organizations that made the calling had any idea what would transpire. The aim was to belt out the seriousness of the people’s discontent by way of a job “walkout” and a “shutdown” of the city. During the 17 plus hour rally, 2,000 were arrested, a dozen buildings were blockaded and over 30 intersections closed and opened like a switchboard with crowds easily sealing six lane streets plus sidewalks. They streamed like live water through the canals of the city, separating and siphoning at will. Marches would continue past midnight and begin again early the next morning, if they stopped at all.

       Contrary to popular stereotypes about San Francisco and the Anti-War movement in general, the thousands that participated were a great many more than some hippies proclaiming, “Peace, dude.” The sentiment crossed age, ethnic, and economic boundaries. I personally saw organized groups of white collars, doctors, Jews, Palestinians, parents, children, and yes, even military veterans, all against ‘The Showdown in Iraq,’ as it’s paraded on some TV stations. No older than four years old, one child’s handwritten sign read “No Mas Guerra.” Translation: “No More War.”

       Early morning on Thursday, March 20, 2003, I headed towards downtown armed with my camera when midway, the bus driver announced the last stop. Locating the source for this halt wasn’t difficult. Two major intersections nearby each had a wide circle of people sitting with arms secured in sleeves of metal covered tubing, the kind that takes Fire Department equipment to saw through. Here, the police had commandeered a bus for arrestees, taking mug shots with a Polaroid camera and holding them onboard.

       Another couple blocks away, folks had linked arms to barricade one side of an intersection, where more supporters and inspired bystanders would jump in to eventually create a circle large enough to cover all four directions. Signs included “While you’re late for work, someone is being killed” as well as “The war stops here and so do you.” Respectfully, decisions were made to allow exceptions for passage in the case of a van carrying senior citizens and a truck delivering food for the homeless at which the people cheered on “Food, not bombs! Food, not bombs!” Street corner kids making fun of the cause would soon join the force after exchanging ideas with participants. Here, I scribbled a circulating number with marker on my arm, 415-385-1011. This is the information hotline for arrestees to gather details on procedure, what to do and what not to do.

       Attempts to close the Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge were foiled by the foresight of SFPD who had pre-posted security at the ramps. The police however had a difficult time predicting blockade after next as the throngs claimed distances and parked at random. Finally, a heavy presence of police vehicles and riot cops followed as close as a half block away, though were kept at a distance by a steady rain of impromptu barriers made from newspaper bins, garbage cans and dumpsters, mattresses, construction barriers, and whatever else was on site.

       San Francisco’s Federal Building was effectively captured well into the evening as people encircled the complex preventing any employee or vehicle traffic. Their federally employed police were also suited in riot gear and armed with rubber bullet weaponry. Several arrests were made but settled to a dead freeze with no shots fired.

       I noticed, smelled then saw, several patches of vomit at the front of the Federal Building where apparently people illustrated physically what the war did figuratively - made them sick. Others also engaged creatively in the event via music, graffiti like that of body outlines on the street, and even knitting, where protest took form in front of The Gap as a group of women opted to create rather than consume, against the President’s inane advice for Americans to continue shopping in this age of terror.

       In what I imagine was the climax of the day, I witnessed from atop one of our famously steep hills, a whole valley of up to six city blocks filled completely with moving bodies. They mobilized to the financial district where a decision occurred that we would rest and the thousands simply sat and lay in place, stopping automobile movement in all directions.

       When the movement began again, police geared with helmets and bigger than usual sticks, tactically began creating their own blockades to sever the caravan. Unlike the sights from Seattle’s WTO protests, we were not met with tear gas or water cannons. I heard stories of some brutal arrests but did not see any myself. One policeman did, however, attempt to possess and steer a stroller carrying two children against the will of their mother. The crowd booed and chewed out repeatedly “Let her go!” and “Shame! Shame! Shame!” She was freed and we applauded loudly. I must commend the police on this trying day for not beating us all into submission. Some openly shared our feelings, one sergeant flashing the peace symbol, but they still had a job to do.

       An article from Friday read:
               Officer Drew Cohen, who was documenting the police response on his camcorder
               for the department, said he came away with a respect for demonstrators'
               tactics. “They succeeded this morning -- they shut the city down,” Cohen
               said. “They're highly organized, but they are totally spontaneous. I think
               police are doing a great job, but the protesters are always a few steps ahead of us.”

       From what I saw after this tiring day, the march by late night had thinned to the length of one block and the width of two car lanes. They demonstrated freely with police vehicles and on-foot cops closely, quietly monitoring the front and rear of the procession as sort of chaperones to settle any perilous activity.

       Anthropologist, Margaret Mead, once said, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has." I imagine, in wonderment, the possibilities when that group of thoughtful committed citizens isn’t small at all but actually quite gigantic. This is but one day and we are but one of many cities around the globe with the conviction and the determination to march forward against tyranny. March 20th, 2003 will live as small victory against The Machine.

       We may well win this war. My own cardboard sign read, “Fight war. Not wars.”

**

This article was originally published on Anthem Salgado’s website: www.anthemsalgado.com. To view pictures of this march: www.anthemsalgado.com/320.htm and scroll down.