From: alias salem <salim at mashriq.org>
[this links to the footage i was shooting when i got shot by the RCMP: http://www.mashriq.org/Studio220/harmsway.ram ]
Printing the Bricks
My mind goes back to a time I was taping an indigenous human rights lawyer for Northern Ireland and how she was explaining the police repression in that country. How the police were used as a force of repression for the British Crown. I also remember how our San Francisco Police Commissioner, an leader in the local Irish community, claimed that the police in North America were not like those in Northern Ireland, that our police were here to protect us. I can only look back as those words in a state of dismay as it stands in 100% contradistinction to what the conduct of the Royal Mounted Police Force did in the province of Quebec this last weekend.
Quebec is a beautiful land of gently slopping hills and mountains. It much reminded me of France not only because of it’s French inhabitants, long time émigrés from the French homeland but also in it’s landscape. The history of the émigré French and it’s relation to the Anglo majority outside of Quebec, inside Quebec the French people are a vast majority, is one of a troubled marriage where one controls the other in a relationship of inequity. Before participating in the resistance of this past weekend I could not claim to have even a beginning of an understanding of the Quebecois autonomy movement. I still do not but the obvious similarities between the Quebecois and other autonomy movements is now quite obvious, whether it be the Palestinians, the Irish, or the Zapatistas in Mexico. What I witnessed in response to this drive for autonomy was state repression not witnessed ever in the Anglo-American dominated continent of North America.
Although most went to Quebec to protest the Free Trade Area of the Americas which the rich are trying to impose on a top down “democratic” platform. The protests themselves were marked by militant resistance and not by the call to reform of the FTAA. The voices of the protests were in English, Spanish and in French. The English voice of the protest called for true democracy, some called for reform, some called for non-violence, some called for militant resistance. The Spanish voice called for equity. The French voice called for liberation and solidarite.
Non-Violence Was Walled Out
The violent nature of the protests has been a central controversy among not just the reform minded anglo liberals but also among the more pacifist anarchists. The violent nature of the protests was set before a protestors stepped onto the streets as the Anglo dominated Royal Canadian Mounted Police laid out a security perimeter around the entire zone where the leaders of 34 “democratic” countries were meeting to discuss “Free Trade”. This cemented chain link wall would prevent any form of civil disobedience of blockades from stopping the meeting. The effects of the wall were far more telling then imagined by those that built the wall. As the wall became to be seen by the Quebecois as an affront to their national identity, it came to be seen as an Anglo intrusion into French culture and way-of-life. With non-violent civil disobedience ruled out and the anger of the wall growing the predictable occurred the people took up arms against the Wall and the so-called democratic leaders of the Western Hemisphere.
Black Friday
Friday began calmly enough and with much enthusiasm. The protestors gathered en masse at Laval University. Gathered there together where some 10,000 activists varying in philosophies from the liberal reformers with their Ghandi quotes to the Black Bloc anarchists with their Bakunin quotes. In a vast panorama of creative expressions of resistance to “Free Trade” the march moved out to break into three streams.The yellow stream which was for people wishing to risk arrest in non-violent direct action, the Green stream for those there to creatively protest and not get arrested and the miltant red stream which endorsed a variety of tactics from non-violence to civil resistance property destruction. While the police water canon was fighting the red stream as a shell station was being damaged the yellow and green streams marched through the streets of Quebec to the cheers of the local inhabitants in contradistinction to what one usually receives from a populace warry of outsiders entering their town to protest.
At one point the yellow stream stopped on the road blocking it to traffic while organizers read a statement declaring the poverty must be eradicated. As the march entered the down town area a union march from the People’s Summit joined the other marchers and all the streams converged as we all headed toward the wall.
The Wall had earlier been breached by Black Bloc tactic activists so the police were prepared for a disturbance at the wall as the march entered the area. The point of conflict during the march with the wall was at an intersection where an overpass joins a main road, Cote de Abraham. Young anarchists began climbing the fence and using their weight to rock the concrete supports back and forth from angle to angle. The rhythm of the concrete slabs beating out against the pavement as it rocked back and forth. A riot squad lined up against the back of the wall behind the chain link fence with tear gas canisters in hand. As the rocking of the wall became larger with three fence segments rocking back and forth an gas canister exploded sending a plume of grey smoke among the crowd of protestors. Many choking and unprepared for the gas, including myself, after such a jubilant march retreated up a hill to wash our eyes out. Although I did not realize it then the rest of Friday would be spent in a surreal game of tear gas ping pong as hours of confrontation began between what at first where anti-FTAA protesters and ended as a Quebecois nationalist conflict.
The match between the protestors and riot cops ebbed and flowed as it also varied between anger and out right carnival charades. As the canisters would plummet down on protestors a quick witted activist would catch the canister and heave it back on the riot police behind the chain link fence as it fell back on them it’s gaseous plume would stream across the sky it’s grey stream of noxious fumes beautifully balanced against the fair blue skies. At one instance the protest would be a bit of a rage as rocks, bottles, sticks, pipes and returning tear gas canisters where heaved at the riot police. The next instance the more pacific minded anarchists and Quebecois would settle the crowd down to sit cross legged before the fence as a beach ball and rave music lofted through the air the vibrations of the bass boom echoing in much the same way as the tear gas cannister’s explosion. One fellow would parody the police through a bull horn, “All is calm here nothing to be afraid of here. No need to overreact, we pose no threat.”
Finally, in the end the police would set off a round of gas canisters and clear the area arresting stragglers.
Darker Saturday
Saturday morning was calm and quite as the sun beamed down on the provincial French capital. The smell of fresh ground café permeated the area around the Independent Media Center. One would have thought that it was a European vacation rather than an major anti-capitalist action that one was attending but the headlines on the morning newspapers betrayed the true nature of the purpose behind so many warried visitors. Vendredi Noir read the newspaper headlines, Black Friday. If Friday was black then Saturday was darker then black and bloodier as well. Again the day began jubilant and festive as at least 35,000 protestors took to the streets to show the peoples resistance to the secret negotiations going on in a locked down perimeter behind a wall. The parade was to a festive occasion as people gathered French Quebecois flags were passed out to participants. The large Greenpeace balloon made a decleartion against the FTAA. The Unions each had their colors and flags as it looked more like a rainbow march then a march against free trade as violets intermingled with oranges and yellows. And then there were the black clad kids that the union organized security disdained openly. At the beginning of the march one anarchist was pointed out by the red vested march security and whisked away by police dragging him into a police van. At this point the radical cheerleaders also began performing. A few minutes later a break away occurred as a contingent from a Canadian union joined Black bloc tactic activist to challenge once again the Wall.
At the Wall again the activists briefly rattled the fence before another round of tear gas was released on the protestors.
People scurried around to get out of range of the gas. Meanwhile, the march continued below the confrontation as tear gas clouds drifted by the parade route units marching through briefly coughing.
The march was an impressive display of diversity in terms of the creative expression of protestors. A mixture of American Steelworkers from New York, Quebecois unions and Canadian syndicates.
Interspersed with anarchists blocs that march here and there some as black bloc contingents some as Art and Revolutions, some as Ya Basta. Even the International Socialist Organization had a direct action “ya bastaesque” contingency called the Snowman Liberation Front, a positive step to see party Socialist taking to street direct action. The unit that was most impressive was compiled of 100 persons dressed as businessman, this French unit would pantamine checking their watches then shrouding themselves from the wind in synchronized unison, at one point covering their ears in a Munchesque characture of the “Scream”. Behind them was a huge P.J. Morgan puppet commanding them to obey, their mouths were covered over by a computer scanner bar that one sees on every product you buy in the mass market. This was the height of the festive atmosphere of the day, from that point on wards more and more militant anti-authoritarian anti-capitalists began challenging the Wall. With each challenge a more sever response came from the police on both the non-violent protestors and those throwing stones.
I had gone back to CMAQ, the Independent Media Center, to rest up as I did not want to walk another 5km in a march that led away from the Wall. We waiting around for the Dispatch board to light up another San Francisco video person found out you could buy gas masks at the local Army-Navy surplus store, we found out later that the friendly peoples store had been looted by the mob that night. Having secured a couple gas masks we headed back up to the CMAQ. The dispatch board announced that rubber bullets were being shot at people challenging the fence near by. Hurriedly we figured out how to use the new gas masks. My mind flashed back to my days on the submarine were routinely we donned Emergency Breathing Apparati (EBA’s). Another veteran recalled how long it has been for him too. Having the proper seal on the gas mask I headed out with my camera.
At the Wall the scene was utterly surreal. A large number of Quebecois militants were beating out rhythm on the side rails as a large metallic rhythm filled the air beating out the rhythm of “So, so, so, Solidarite”. A quebecois punker was dancing in front of the Wall as tear gas canisters would go off near by. Moments later as he danced and flashed peace signs he was intentionally shot in the leg with a rubber bullet. Several rounds of rubber bullets were fired at non-violent protestors their only offense daring to stand in front of the Wall defiantly. To my left was a group of stone throwing militants about 40 yards down. The RCMP with the rubber bullet rifles stayed behind the large fenced in section. A group of Quebocois cops in riot gear protected a street that was outside the protection of the Wall. Even the Quebocois police were second class to the Anglo dominated RCMP. The young militants hurled stones at these unprotected police. A stone would bounce off the plexiglass shields, even if one got through it would bounce off the cavalier bullet proof padding worn by the police. To my right were the peaceful protestors of people sitting cross legged 20 yards away from the police. A young woman danced around a cop took aim at her with his rifle. I got my camera into position filming the cop, the cop lowered his rifle. Several times this happened the cop would aim his rifle then lower it, I would focus on him as he prepared to fire. Suddenly to my left a wave of stone throwing militants hit the unprotected police with a barrage of stones. As I filmed them I heard a rubber bullet wiz by my left ear. As I panned back toward the RCMP marksman, Helmet number E17, another round went off hitting me in the head (upon anaylyzing the tape I discovered that three round were shot at my head in one second). The impact knocked me backwards, I am lucky that I have been lifting weights for several years now as the extra bulk kept me from being completely knocked backwards and prevented serious head & neck injury. I fell to the ground having been spun around by the impact. The force felt as if a Mark Maguire baseball swing had planted itself into my forehead. The camera continued to roll as a medic approached, street medics rock, I placed my hand on my forehead as blood drained down around my hand over the gas mask. I was moved to another location were the street medics took care of the wound and sent me off to the hospital.
At the hospital there were a couple injured police officers with their fellow cops in full armor. A decantimination unit was set up to shower off injured protestors covered in tear gas. I removed all my clothes putting on a gown and was ushered into the waiting room were a surreal episode of French news showed the march, the street protests and an utterly empty street in the town center were the 34 leaders of the “democratic” Americas were posing for their plastic fake group photograph. A comrade shot at the same location was in the hospital with me an amicable Irishman we will call “P”. P had his arm incapacitated by a rubber bullet round. We waited their while this cacophony of corporate media blitzed the senses. We agreed it was like watching a surreal dream. Later, the doctor came in checked for a concussion, saying that I was lucky that I wasn’t hit on the side of the head without elaborating, stitched me up and let me go.
Outside I met up with “P” again we caught a cab and headed back to the battle zone. The cab couldn’t get to the CMAQ since a street war had erupted as another person had been hit by a rubber bullet, the person bled profusely and was immediately lifted out by ambulance. Rumor spread that the person had died when actually the person was in serious condition at the hospital. Our cabbies wished us solidarite, as the whole town was behind the protesters by now. Immediately we were back in the gas clouds as we ran down the hill to the CMAQ. Me and “P” parted ways wishing each other well and “may your bricks have wings”. Finally back at the CMAQ, what was a calm cultural center blocks away from the Wall when I left earlier in the day had become a front line in the street battle. The lobby was now a triage center as the medic clinic had been over ran by police at gun point. On one side of the CMAQ a street barricade was set up by the black bloc, molotovs hurled at the advancing police line. Eventually the police would rush with a couple hundred darth vaders rushing toward the militants. This would happen several times into late in the night I continued to film from the glassed hallways of the CMAQ. At one point there was fear that the police would overrun the CMAQ all the independistas decided not to divulge any information if this happened and to stand in solidarite with the other people incarcerated during the battles. Fortunately the CMAQ was not overran and the smoking embers of the barricades settled down into ash as even I finally got a couple hours of sleep before departing in the morning for liberated California.