Author: Slingshot Collective

Slingshot is an independent radical newspaper published in Berkeley since 1988.

In the moments after the police and FBI raided our offices at Long Haul — seizing all Slingshot computers and looking through our files — we wondered if we shouldn’t delay publication of this issue to give us time to regroup and recover. It is a funny thing when cops take your computers especially if you don’t really like computers in the first place. Maybe we shouldn’t bother to try to get them back — maybe we should free ourselves from this machine dependence.

Within a few days, we regained our composure and realized publishing this issue — on time and as awsomely as possible — was our best response to the police raid. So here it is. We initially discussed doing a shorter issue, avoiding articles that needed extra work, trying not to stay up so late or push ourselves as hard. These would actually be reasonable ideas every issue — why do we need a police raid as an excuse to balance our passion for making Slingshot with remembering to eat well, sleep more than 5 hours, and take time to dig in the garden between long-ass meetings?

Making this paper is a massive amount of work — it takes a dozen of us two weekends working long hours and requires a lot of organization and attention to detail. But it doesn’t feel like work — we don’t get tired — we look forward to doing Slingshot.

Artnoose wrote “Slingshot loft is the fountain ‘o youth” on a piece of paper where we make Slingshot and we keep realizing how true this is. While we were making the 2009 Slingshot Organizer, we realized that making Slingshot is like staying up half the night at a really good dance party, except that instead of dancing, we write stuff, edit it, make art, and try to figure out what record to put on and what we’re going to eat next.

The flood of creativity, bonding and getting to know other people in the collective — cooperating and struggling and discussing — you feel engaged, alive and present. It feels like you’re young and fresh — as opposed to the times you feel checked out, stuck in a rut, unable to get beyond the daily grind and see beyond the messy psychic spaces you inhabit. It is clear that feeling youthful isn’t mostly about your age — it’s really about how you approach life, and even more about how you actually live it. Making Slingshot or giving your all to any project isn’t a “sacrifice to the cause” — it’s a gift to enjoy and share with others that makes life meaningful.

And yet life isn’t always meaningful or inspiring or even possible to comprehend. We keep grappling with the stark contradictions between the moments of grief, regret, heartbreak, and the moments when everything falls into place and makes sense. How can life be so uneven?

Right before Slingshot collective started working on this issue, we heard that a collective member had fallen off an overpass and was in the hospital with spinal injuries. As of press time, we don’t know what happened or whether she will be okay. She wrote an email a few days before the fall saying “my mental health is deteriorating this past month and I am thinking of going in hospital.” We are so fragile and so alone and yet we are also part of something larger than ourselves — we have to be to find joy in this life.

The government fucked us over again on September 11 when they changed the rules for mailing items “bound printed matter” so that this cheaper class of mailing is only available to huge corporations, not independent zines like us. As we go to press, we aren’t sure how we’ll be able to mail out this issue . . . These creeping barriers to the free exchange of information are just as powerful as police raids, only harder to notice. And yet we’re not going to let all this put us off being part of the struggle for liberation.

Slingshot is always looking for new writers, artists, editors, photographers, translators, distributors & independent thinkers to make this paper. If you send something written, please be open to being edited.

Editorial decisions are made by the Slingshot collective, but not all the articles reflect the opinions of all collective members. We welcome debate and constructive criticism.

Thanks to all who made this: Compost, Crystal, Dominique, Eggplant, Ginger, Gregg, Hunter, JB, Kathryn, Kelly, Kermit, Kirsty, Lesley, Lelah, Max, Mando, Melissa, PB, Samantha and all the authors and artists.

Slingshot New Volunteer Meeting

Volunteers interested in getting involved with Slingshot can come to the new volunteer meeting on Sunday, November 30, 2008 at 4 p.m. at the Long Haul in Berkeley (see below.)

Article Deadline and Next Issue Date

Submit your articles for issue 99 by January, 17 2009 at 3 p.m.

Volume 1, Number 98, Circulation 17,000

Printed September 26, 2008

Slingshot Newspaper

Sponsored by Long Haul

3124 Shattuck Avenue. Berkeley, CA 94705

Phone: (510) 540-0751

slingshot@tao.ca • www.slingshot.tao.ca

Circulation Information

Subscriptions to Slingshot are free to prisoners, low income and anyone in the USA with a Slingshot Organizer, or $1 per issue or back issues. Outside the Bay Area, we’ll mail a free stack of copies of Slingshot to you if you give them out free.

The recent police raid on the Long Haul Infoshop in Berkeley (Slingshot’s home base) points out how important radical community spaces, alternative libraries, bike kitchens and infoshops are. The cops figured that the best way to go after a leaderless, informal scene was to go after its leaderless, informal meeting space. Luckily, the cops can take our computers but they can’t destroy our community and they can’t scare us off.

Alternative spaces that operate outside of the mainstream economy are dangerous to the smooth operation of the corporate-capitalist machine that is killing the earth. From these spaces, we can discuss more than the newest tv shows and organize activities more significant than retro-bowling leagues. These physical spaces represent the practical expression of our dreams for how life could be different. Organized cooperatively rather than by bosses and operated to promote creativity, freedom and autonomy instead of profit and conformity, alternative spaces are vital for building a new society.

As soon as we sent the 2009 Slingshot organizer to the printing press, people started sending us information on more spaces we should include. Oops — Too Late! While we were making the organizer we tried to contact everyone listed in the 2008 edition — so we hope the organizer list is pretty accurate. We’re now doing better about updating our on-line radical contact list, which contains extra listings not included in the paper organizer (like email addresses and website links.) Check out

slingshot.tao.ca. Here are some new spaces and updates.

Franklin House – St. Charles, MO

They are a collective house with an infoshop, show venue, community garden, free bike resource, art space and an “oasis in small town middle America.” Check them out at 320 Tompkins Ave., St. Charles, MO 63301, 636-493-1239 franklinhousecollective@gmail.com

Fargo-Moorhead Community Bicycle Workshop – Fargo, ND

They are a non-profit bike shop committed to reclamation of bikes and education, as well as building community. Visit 1303 1st Ave N, Fargo, ND 58102, 701-478-4021 fmbikeworkshop.org

Tantra Coffeehouse – San Marcos, TX

They are a coffeehouse and community center with live music and an art venue. Open Sun-Fri: 7am-midnight and Saturday Sat 7am-1am. Visit at 217 W. Hopkins St. San Marcos, TX 78666 512-558-2233 www.myspace.com/tantracoffee

Everybody Reads – Lansing, MI

A community bookstore and neighborhood resource center that hosts various events. 2019 E. Michigan Avenue- Lansing, MI 48912 517 346-9900, becauseeverybodyreads.com

Bon Vivant Artspace – Buffalo, NY

A new art space and music venue. 1862 Hertel Avenue Buffalo, NY 14216.

Black Sheep Book – Montpelier, VT

They’ve moved into a new storefront space right on the main street of town that is more visible and bigger allowing events with up to 30 people. Send them some books, zines or donations to help them with this expansion. 5 State Street, Montpelier, Vermont 05602 (802) 225-8906, http://www.blacksheepbooks.org

Casal Popular de Castelló – Spain

A radical social center. Carrer d’Amunt 167, 12001 Castelló de la Plana, South Catalonia, casalpopular@moviments.net

Ste. Emilie SkillShare – Montreal, Canada

A radical do it yourself art studio with a zine library/distro, silkscreen shop, photo darkroom, sewing machines and button maker that hosts workshops and events. Open Saturdays. 3942 Ste. Emilie (corner of St. Augustin, metro Place St. Henri), Montreal QC H4C 2A1 514-933-2573 (messages), steemilieskillshare.com / mtlskillshare@gmail.com

Mistakes in the 2009 Organizer. . .

• Oops – after publishing their name in the 2009 organizer we got mail back from the Radish Infoshop at 818 W. College St Springfield, MO 65806 marked “return to sender,- attempted – not known” – either they have moved or ceased to exist.

• We also got a letter mailed to New World Resource Center at 1300 N. Western Ave. in Chicago returned in the mail.

• Due to space considerations, we didn’t list some places. The Junto Library in Winnipeg, Canada DOES exist – 91 Albert St.

• We weren’t sure whether Little Sisters in Vancouver, BC, Canada was still around or not – we didn’t list them but someone says “they’re still there.”

• We listed the Women’s Agenda for Change in Phnom Penh, Cambodia but have since gotten word that they are in transition and they may not be in a good place to receive visitors. They may dissolve in mid-2009.

• Here are some places in Halifax, Nova Scotia that you may want to visit if you’re in town– we got this info too late to include in the 2009 Organizer: • Halifax Coalition Against Poverty • Just Us! Cafe (Spring Garden or Barrington locations) • The Grainery Food Coop. They also have a Food Not Bombs in Halifax.

On May 8, 2008, the United States government sentenced Eric McDavid to 19 years and 7 months behind bars for a crime that was never committed. Eric was arrested in January of 2006 and charged with “conspiracy to destroy property by means of fire or explosives”. However, no actual property damage ever occurred. The government’s fear of “eco-terrorists” has made Eric just one defendant in a string of arrests known as the Green Scare. The undercover snitch “Anna” was paid $75,000 by the FBI to help frame Eric for conspiracy. Eric’s sentence was extended with the use of the government’s Terrorism Enhancement Measure. For more information on sending money for his appeal case please visit www.supporteric.org. Write to Eric at:

Eric McDavid 16209-097

FCI Victorville Medium II

PO Box 5700

Adelanto, CA 92301

United States Sentencing Guideline (USSG) 3A1.4 is a Terrorism Enhancement Measure that allows judges to increase a sentence if the offense “involved or was intended to promote a federal crime of terrorism. “This loosely worded measure means that any crime, committed or conspired, that is aimed at affecting the conduct of government or property used in interstate commerce would be defined as a terrorist activity. This means extra jail time, even 6 fold the sentence, as witnessed by the “Operation Backfire” arrests. Because of the terrorist label, prisoners are also housed in high security prisons, with more restrictions. However, judges are not obligated to follow this sentencing guideline.

Briana Waters, 14th victim of Operation Backfire was sentenced in Tacoma, Washington on July 19, 2008. Briana was sentenced to a 6 year prison term with 3 years of probation. She is accused of being involved in the bombing of the University of Washington’s Center for Urban Horticulture. She maintains her innocence and is currently in an appeal process. Briana is being held at a federal prison in Danbury, Connecticut even though she requested a facility in Dublin, California to be closer to her family and 3-year-old daughter. Yet another victim of the terrorism enhancement sentencing measure.

www.supportbriana.org

On July 14, 2008, Daniel McGowan appeared in federal court in Madison, Wisconsin and was found in civil contempt for refusal to answer questions before a grand jury. McGowan was charged in 2007 with arson and is serving a 7 year sentence. Until the grand jury is dismissed or resolved, he will not receive time served. An appeal has been filed by his lawyer as well as a motion for bail. Please write to Daniel at:

Daniel McGowan

USP Marion

PO Box 1000

Marion, IL 62959*

Living without money is more fun! Work trade is where you work in exchange for room and board while you travel. In essence, it’s probably the cheapest way to travel the world, meet people, and eat real good local foods. Every situation is different and there are cool and not so cool people to work for, as in the alternate capitalist Babylon world. This is something that everyone should experience. I did receive some government assistance through food stamps, and knowledge from work-trading in the New Orleans area that, if the emergency ever arose, to go to the emergency room without identification (at least in America) and they will treat whatever your condition may be. You may just need to play the character role of a mean person from back home, or just an imaginary friends name you know.

I won’t say which Hawaiian island I was on when I got this dream position. I had previous knowledge of a local plant on the islands known as Kava, with the plants’ name known as Awa (pronounced ava). It is a stress relieving drink that you make by taking the root of the plant and drying it in the sun. You then grind it into small bits or cut it very small, (some stores sell it as a powder or extract) and then put it into a cheese cloth, sock, or old t-shirt; basically anything that will strain it. You take some good filtered water, and pour over the kava into a big bowl, portions vary, but you’re supposed to dip the kava into the water in the bowl and squeeze many times also. The water will turn a tan dirty color but obviously, the darker the color, the more strong the kava will be! Native Hawaiians, before Captain Cook screwed everything up, would have political meetings, where everyone of importance would drink a coconut cup filled with Kava before meeting. Nobody fought, but issues were heard and complaints addressed. Sounds like we could all use some more kava in our lives right?

I took care of between 200-300 awa plants on a plot of land of about 3-4 acres in the middle of this wild valley known as the Valley of the Kings (hint hint). I had a mountain view in front of the plot of land, where the sun would first hit around 6:16am. The valley floor we were situated in had about a mile wide mouth at the black sand beach at the ocean, and grew wider as you went further back into the valley.

My camp/situation was about a two-mile hike into the valley from the entrance, which was a long crazy super steep mile you needed four wheel drive for. I walked down many times, but only walked up a few. I went on many adventures just exploring the area, just as you should, explore your area.

I was dropped off on this amazing solo adventure with a shovel, an axe, a saw, a machete, a propane tank, stove hook-up, a box of dried food goods, two bags of my stuff (clothing, chess, soccer ball), also a bunch of matches, two lighters, a big straw hat, an army cot, and three blankets (one from the airlines). At the site, I found five five-gallon buckets and two spools of metal wire.

My mission that I chose to accept was three fold. 1) To work solo to keep the plants weeded and watered. 2) Plant keiki (baby) awa plants (80 in total) and 3) build tri-pod tee-pees to protect the awa plants from the wild horses trampling feet.

Sometimes I would wake up early in the morning, or late at night, to hear the horse breath through their mouths… if you’ve ever been around horses, you know what I mean. I’d slowly put on some shorts and slowly unzipped the tent and sneak outside. It’d be dark sometimes, dusk maybe, and I’d sneak up very slowly, as slowly as possible towards the horse(s). I’d move a bit faster than desired most of the time and the lead horse, or only one sometimes, would just stand and stare in my direction, or possibly right at me, for a long time, and I’d just stay perfectly still… and even more closer when they went to graze again. When I was close enough, or felt it was the right timing, I’d sprint towards them with a scream, flailing my arms around and they would bolt! There’s nothing like scaring a large wild animal that you know is not going to attack you. A wild boar on the other hand… well it’s another story.

We had no barbed wire fence around our plot to keep the horses and boars out, but we also had wild cats and mongoose in the valley. Mongooses were brought here the island to deal with the rat problem. The problem is rats are awake at night, and mongooses are awake in the daylight. So they both just live separate lives, and now there are two problems instead of one. There were a bunch of awa plants areas with rocks around them that needed weeding, as well as there were individual plants scattered around the forest, as a forest planting. This specific farmed land had started about three years ago as that’s how old the oldest awa plants were I was told.

There was an awesome section that had been planted by some kids I knew, one plot was in the shape of a peace sign, the other was two ovals in the shape of the moon two-thirds filled I guess; placed opposite each other, it became a vagina, their plan all along. It felt good to weed and water those plants. I had plans of building an earth oven as there had already been an existing L shaped rock wall I could have turned into a C shaped structure with a space in the back for exhaust. All these plans were great on paper, but not practical for the amount of time I spent there vs. exploring and basic living. I used the fire pit under the bamboo structure for most of my cooking needs. I actually prided myself for not turning on the propane stove for the first week I was there… and I only turned it on when I got the tea kettle as the propane didn’t burn the sides of the kettle as the fire had. Although I am an omnivore, the need for the kettle was there because all the water I boiled in the pot I brought tasted a bit like hot dogs… no good.

Another crazy thing that happened was the discovery of wild coffee trees in my back yard! It was tree dried (meaning raisin) in the month of May. And I just took these black dried berries off the trees from a bunch of neighbors places, in the understanding of course that it’s easier to ask for forgiveness sometimes than permission (same with the bananas, mangos and papayas). You had to break open the black berry and you’d have two pods, and in each pod was a green coffee bean! At first I picked what I thought was a dosage of coffee for a single coconut cup, and roasted it over the fire in a pan, constantly moving it. It popped and crackled, and I believe I burned the beans on two occasions that I made cowboy coffee. I ground the coffee in a plastic bag bashing it with a rock, and it was some of the best tasting coffee I feel I ever drank.

All these experiences, while suckling on the teat of federal assistance, made me a better person. If you’ve ever worked for a job for over a year, you’ve paid your dues and deserve this sort of work-trade situation while getting food stamp benefits. Living also on lots of bananas, papayas, granolas, and other healthy food, including going prawn (shrimp) hunting was a blessed experience of an adventure. Yes I dug holes in the ground to do my business, but now I find peeing in a bowl of water not only wasteful, but also highly impractical… GO WATER A TREE or some other plants, and if you’re stuck in a metropolis Babylon land someplace, until you break free… if it’s brown flush it down, if it’s yellow, keep it mellow!

I was outside the Democratic National Convention for the four days of its life in Denver, CO. The heavily armed, massive police presence in Denver was daunting even to convention delegates. Police on horseback, police on motorcycles, and SUVs rolling down the street with three or four helmeted police on both side running boards and on the rear bumper, squadrons of cops leaning against buildings, lurking in alleys, and poised on street corners suited in protective gear reminiscent of Star Wars, armed with gas guns, tasers, shotguns, semi-automatics, and who-knows-what gadgetry; Denver police and sheriffs, police from other jurisdictions (one afternoon I found my way blocked by mounted police from Cheyenne, Wyoming), dozens of federal police agencies and countless armed private security guards were ubiquitous.

One evening I was walking down the street past a federal courthouse talking into a cell phone when a guy pulled up and jumped out of his car to take a picture of a church across the street. Immediately, a couple of armed security guards ran out of the building and grabbed his camera. “Hey, that’s a nice church, make a nice picture,” I volunteered. “Just keep moving!” was the reply. “I’m not in your way,” I rejoined. “This is federal property, just keep moving!” I was on the city sidewalk.

Still conversing on the cell phone, describing to my friend what was happening, I moved to a bus bench at the end of the block and watched as more guards and police emerged from the courthouse. One of them (Federal Protective Police) came over to me and demanded ID. As I handed it to him I asked “What’s the problem?” “You were interfering with the officers.” “No, I wasn’t in their way at all.” “What have you been smoking?” “I don’t smoke.” “Put that cell phone down when i’m talking to you.” “I’ll just keep it on, thanks.” Wham! He grabbed the phone and shut it, and put me in handcuffs. “For your protection and mine.”

Ten minutes later, after ID checks had run their course, he let me go. This was not an uncommon experience — in the days following I heard countless similar tales.

Unlike Chicago ’68, where a peace plank had been introduced on the floor, and where Connecticut Senator Ribicoff in his nominating speech for George McGovern denounced the “Gestapo tactics” of Mayor Daley and the Chicago police, there was a great disconnect between the official Democratic Party convention agenda and protesters. Denver Mayor Hickenlooper, a Democrat, did everything he could to isolate demonstrations and make protesters invisible. Only as a result of the Iraq Veterans Against the War march was a bridge put in place between street demonstrations and the party inside.

Prior to the opening of the convention, a federal judge had ruled that security needs outweighed First Amendment considerations, and affirmed the city’s right to restrict protesters to a fenced-in area out of sight of convention attendees. The Free Speech Zone, which actually appears as such on official maps, consisted of a 50,000 square foot parking lot surrounded by a 10 foot high chain link fence and an inner rail iron fence, with no bathroom or porta-potties.

Addressing a rally Sunday prior to the convention, Ron Kovic pledged: “I gave three-fourths of my body in Vietnam and i’m not going to be put into a cage in silence.”

No demonstrations took place in the Free Speech Zone.

However, in a park far from downtown and the Pepsi (convention) Center, the mayor had permitted organizers to place tents and hold support activities but forbidden them to sleep. There a national group called Tent State University facilitated much of the organizing, including logistics for Wednesday’s IVAW-sponsored Rage Against the Machine concert at the Coliseum, and including Resurrection City Free University, a 4-day series of more than 40 colloquiums on the park lawn with presenters such as Vincent Harding, politician Cynthia McKinney, writer Vincent Bugliosi, and Professor Stephen Zunes.

Because they were forbidden to camp at Tent State, at the end of long, hot days 30 or 40 people trekked to what they called the Freedom Cage to sleep. No fires were permitted, amended to “no heat sources” after someone tried to cook breakfast on a battery-powered hot plate. Campers had to walk three or four blocks to bathrooms, harassed at police blockades coming and going. Stadium lights were kept on at all times and, as people started to retire, giant floodlights were turned on for the remainder of the night. Police in cherrypickers kept an all-night vigil over the 30 or 40 campers who woke each morning to find themselves surrounded on the ground by Secret Service among others.

When it was first announced that Denver would be hosting the 2008 Democratic National Convention, there were a lot of different responses, but the vast majority amongst the radical left was that of fear and cynicism. People reacted everywhere from vowing to leave the city during convention week to taking a damage control stance, making the argument that “it’s better that we try to shape how this will affect us than the state or other activists we might disagree with.” There was very little local excitement or enthusiasm in organizing around the DNC.

Compare that to the sentiment amongst many anarchists on a national level. In what was probably some of the earliest and most thoughtful dialog around convention protests, the anarchist/anti-authoritarian network Unconventional Action (UA) emerged. The attitudes of those who initiated the UA network stood in stark contrast to many in Denver. Instead of a fear or dread of the negative impact the protests would have on local projects and the straining of resources, UA folks were preparing eagerly for the event, seeing it instead as an important springboard to a revival of anti-capitalist resistance and diversity of tactics at mass mobilizations.

In between this strange tension of outside enthusiasm and inside naysaying grew Unconventional Denver, an appropriate blend of the two. Admittedly, the group really was born of the more hopefully cynicism of Denver- the hope that by participating in the planning process, that we might be able to frame the protests in a less fucked up way than past events have been, maybe even creating some inspiration.

Organizing Amongst a Divided Left

Most major cities have a strong dose of bitterness, burned bridges and sectarianism. Denver is no different. Some had hoped that the DNC might serve as an impetus to band together. Unfortunately, it seems the opposite happened. In the middle of the disagreements, Unconventional Denver stood- caught between groups that had falling outs. We certainly had our own share of slip ups, miscommunications and thoughtlessness. In the end though, we were able to stay out of a lot of the politics and stay focused on our goals for the protests. I would attribute a lot of this to our points of unity: our respect for a diversity of tactics and emphasis on working in a horizontal fashion. Working in a non-hierarchical structure was a great way to show anarchism in action.

The DNC as a Failure Anarchists Talk Big…Again

When Unconventional Denver first started, there was a lot of talk about doing a mobilization right and learning from our mistakes. Somewhere between then and the conventions we got lazy, fell back on the familiar, and recreated some of the exact mistakes we vowed to avoid. I remember at the first few consultas folks were saying that,

• it was better to have an achievable goal we accomplished than call for something vague and grandiose that would fall short

• our actions should speak for themselves

• when you take a snapshot of us in the streets people will know exactly what we are fighting for

• we use the power of satire and humor in a respectful, but effective way against the Democrats

• we recognize the role the DNC plays in the furthering gentrification and racist development of Denver and work with those most affected by those forces to effectively fight its march onward.

One of our biggest faults was that, after our first national consulta, we decided that we would come up with goals for the DNC that would inform our strategy. When making goals, the number one rule is to keep the goals to around three and that those goals be measurable in some way. Doing this helps focus the group and makes them meaningful, something that can be constantly looked at to assess the work we’re doing. We essentially did the opposite- coming up with fourteen goals! Many of them were unrealistic and difficult to measure. Here they all are-

• shut down, disrupt, or delay the convention

• storm convention events

• dismantle Denver’s capitalism, gentrification, and eco-devastation networks

• feel our movement’s power as a confrontational force

• make direct action a threat again

• bring our international anarchist movement back into the public consciousness

• build momentum for the opposition to the RNC

• ensure that the DNC is a thing of rowdy beauty

• turn the DNC’s festivities into our own

• bring the direct action that meets the needs of local communities

• continue multiracial coalitions with multiracial turnouts

• stop racist development and the targeting of immigrant communities

• further Denver anarchist community’s ties with other local struggles

• have such a good time and create something so magnificently awesome that no one will ever want to leave. ever.

So looking back, many of the goals were unrealistic, but even the goals we set which we might have achieved, such as turning the DNC into a thing of “rowdy beauty” isn’t very helpful in guiding us towards whether or not the work we did was a success. Had we come up with two or three very solid goals it would have helped us tremendously in terms of prioritizing when our small, overtextended group repeatedly tried to take everything on, oftentimes forcing us to abandon efforts or scale them back significantly.

Radical Shouldn’t Mean Irrelevant

Radical politics should strike a chord with those who experience the violence of the state and capitalism in the most acute ways. The Democratic National Convention was an event that fit perfectly into the City of Denver’s continual racist and classist development. The changing face of Denver is one that is very insidious. Mayor Hickenlooper, a liberal Democrat, is a down to earth, feel-good guy who has prompted many nice sounding initiatives: a Denver Greenprint, opening of the new Denver Art Museum, reinvestment into Downtown Denver, Denver’s Road Home initiative are a few of the projects spearheaded by the City. This new, hip, eco-friendly urban center is accessible only to a certain demographic, namely rich middle to upper class residents. While the Denver Art Museum opens its doors, police are targeting neighborhoods of color with aggressive “Broken Windows” policing. As Denver touts its initiative for the homeless, the city ups its harassment of people in Civic Center Park and declares that all free food programs need to be moved inside and out of sight.

The Democratic National Convention was exactly the type of major event needed to continue pushing forward a progressive image while simultaneously securing extra funding and equipment to forcibly maintain the inequities of capitalism. The push to move the food distribution programs inside had been on the table for years, but suddenly it found extra funding and urgency to make it happen in time for the DNC. The Democratic National Convention also supported the push for posh retail outlets and high end restaurants at the expense of local, long time businesses. The City continued pouring in money to redeveloped areas of downtown while a housing crisis displaces communities that have been together for generations.

What would the DNC protests have looked like if Unconventional Denver and other protest groups used this analysis to guide organizing? The sad part is that we had this analysis early on. We even had it buried in the long list of goals. Again, had we been more purposeful in our intent maybe we would have ensured that we spend the time to educate ourselves on these issues and ask those struggling against police brutality and gentrification, how the DNC protests could aid their work and where we could work in coalition with one another. Instead, with vague aspirations of making direct action a threat again, we settled into white privilege and the familiar, to neglect real coalition buildi
ng

So the cynics were right. We didn’t disrupt the functionings of the DNC, our messaging was at times unclear, the protests lacked broad diverse participation and both our major days of action- disrupting the fundraisers and blockading the convention were completely called off. Once again, we anarchists talked big and failed to follow through.

The DNC as a Success

But the cynics were also wrong, and probably wrong on the most important level. The Democratic National Convention is a symbolic event. Unlike a free trade agreement meeting where actual decisions must be made, in which direct action can actually affect those outcomes, the DNC was completely scripted. We knew who would be elected and even shutting the convention down completely would not prevent the two-party system from moving forward.

The primary point of organizing for the conventions was to revive the diversity of tactics model and make anti-capitalism relevant again. We wanted to leave a new generation of activists with a sense of the power that comes from organizing to make change ourselves instead of electing leaders. We wanted to highlight the brutality of the state and the beauty of resistance. In this sense, we won and we won big.

Dynamite Comes in Small Packages

For a group as small as we were, we fucking rocked it. Despite being one of the smallest DNC protest groups our productivity was impressive. As a result, anarchists and anarchist messages were prominent throughout the week: the Reclaim the Streets event; the anti-capitalist march, the green and black bloc and the key roles anarchists played in the Iraq Veterans Against the War march

I’d much rather have a deeply flawed mobilization spark a renewed enthusiasm for resistance, than one which saps resources or ends as soon as the police leave the streets of a city to continue its occupation of neighborhoods. I know that the DNC imbibed a new sense of hope amongst myself and many other anarchists and radicals. Let’s take that energy forward.

People keep coming up to me, telling me how sorry they are that we “lost the tree sit in the end”. And I understand where they’re coming from, but clearly there’s more to say about our almost two year long occupation of the Berkeley Oak Grove than that.

Squatting and grass roots organizing are, by their nature, heartbreaking. And the more love we put into a place, the harder it is when they take it away.

For me, the Oak Grove has always been about the trees, but also much more. To see the Grove as a temporary autonomous space where, for a period of time, people came to build strong community and live satisfying, reasonable lives together, is to see us for our accomplishments. As for the Oak Grove as a permanent occupation poised to turn back the forces of capitalism in Berkeley ¬– well, maybe sometimes we don’t get everything we want. Yes, we’ve lost the trees. But we’ve done so much. Here is a report back from the last several months:

It’s been a hell of a summer. On June 17th, 2008- the day before our much-awaited “big day in court”- UC Berkeley, backed up by Williams Tree Service (extractors out of Watsonville, CA) and A LOT of cops, attacked the tree sit in a pre-dawn raid. Everything we thought we knew about urban tree sit extractions being safer and less unpredictable than deep woods extractions because of increased visibility and media exposure went very quickly out the window, as Williams Tree Service employees (being directed from the ground by the UC Chief of Police) showed over and over again that they were willing (even eager) to risk tree sitters lives to get us out of the trees. What we experienced during the extractions was basically a very high stakes game of chicken. Extractors cut and untied traverse lines that tree sitters were attached to, rammed us with heavy equipment, cut platforms out from under people’s feet, threatened sexual violence against women tree sitters, made super-close approaches with a crane on our precarious defense structure- “the god pod”, intentionally sliced into the flesh of two tree sitters with saws on poles, and physically fought and yanked on people who were free climbing with no safety ropes at the tops of trees- as though these were reasonable ways to get people down. The tree sitters fought back, damaging equipment and defending ourselves by throwing human piss and shit on the extractors, repeatedly getting them to back down from dangerous situations because it was just getting too disgusting for them to hang in there going after us. We did not lock down. Although we honor the tactic, we decided it was best to physically resist the extractions. Catch me if you can.

For three days straight the extractors moved in with overwhelming force, and were, for the most part, unsuccessful at removing people against their will. After three days, due to tremendous pressure on all sides, the university shifted tactics away from force to a slow starvation campaign against the eleven remaining tree sitters who continued to occupy the grove. The area surrounding the tree sit became completely militarized. A ground encampment swelled on both sides of the barricades, erected by cops down Piedmont Avenue as an extra compliment to the double barbed wire fence that had surrounded our grove since November 2007. For almost two weeks no substantial amounts of food or water made it up into the trees. The tree sitters were living entirely on emergency stores. Again, due to intense pressure from all sides, the University made the reluctant concession to provide a food and water ration to the tree sitters daily.

But the food ration was really bad. It was basically a flour, sugar, vegetable shortening diet, and for almost three weeks, Lemon-Vanilla flavored Emergency Ration Bars were the only food the tree sitters (whose numbers at this point had dwindled down to 3-4) had access to. A daring action brought two more tree sitters and a ton of really good food into the trees, and facilitated the brokering of a deal between the University and the ground supporters of the tree sit. A bag of food of our packing and choosing would go up every day. Tree sitters agreed to send down waste.

It would be several weeks before the weary peace between tree people and the cops would be broken. In middle August, Williams Tree Service was back to do strategic cutting of branches known to be pathways between trees. Tree sitters and ground supporters disrupted this work, but we all knew more was set to come. Cutting began for real on Friday September 5th, and by Tuesday all the trees slated to be cut and all the tree sitters were down. The tree sitters made a deal agreeing to voluntarily turn themselves over to the police after being completely surrounded by extractors, cops, and a scaffolding structure (built that day) which reached all the way (almost) to the top of the one tree which the remaining four tree sitters were occupying after the rest of the grove had been taken. The deal was for the formation of a community review board on future land use decisions in Berkeley. As a final stab in the back, the University promptly denied that any such deal had been reached, and shows no sign of intending to honor the agreement.

It’s been months since the siege against us began and it seems like a very long time ago to think back before the attacks. What were we doing with our time, I wonder? The tree sit has been an interesting place full of interesting people from the beginning. We’ve gone through several distinct eras both in the trees and on the ground and have made many friends, including, of course, the Grandmothers for the Oaks, who are such a tremendous inspiration, our hard working lawyers, and the Panoramic Hill Association (a neighborhood group) who stuck in there with us through the end.

For me, the easy part of my coming of age was figuring out that I didn’t want to turn my life over to a boss and a landlord. The hard part has been figuring out what to do instead. I’ve dedicated the last year of my life to the Oak Grove tree sit. Living in the trees has made me a much happier, more capable person than I was before I came here, and it has birthed a vibrant and radical community that will not go away just because they cut our trees down.

We went up against the largest, richest landowner in town and in the end, the might of the state and the landlord system prevailed over the good work and good intentions of community based organizing. Despite everything, we remain and the reverberations of these connections we’ve made within ourselves and among each other will be felt for years to come.