INSIDE WTO WEEK.

(Dispatch From the Front)

Dear listeners, I write you with recollections from what was, during the week of November 29th, 1999, the center of the world. Indeed the thoughts and consciousness :of anybody who was piugged into our planets information systems focused on this little strip of land locked in between the shores of Puget Sound and Lake Washington. If money makes the world go around, then Seattle was the nucleus of the new economic orbit. Trade representatives from some 130 member nations belonging to the World Trade Organization converged here to work out trade issues as defined by this extra-democratic entity.

There was a big buzz about the conference for at least three months before it all actually went down. During that time, local daily and weekly publications published articles about the WTO. These articles gave historical perspectives, discussed controversies and profiled activist organizations planning events during the big week. Local activist committed lefties, were juiced at the idea of the ultimate big, bad global corporate monster was coming over to our own back yard. Union halls hosted informational seminars. The Seattle police distributed a flyer to downtown merchants warning of possible civil unrest and property damage. So many forces were preparing to be inside the belly of the beast in the shadow of the Space Needle.

GEARING UP

In October during the Spitfire Spoken Word Tour I was hanging out with Jello Biafra pondering the upcoming WTO meeting and our participation in it. After hitting on a few ideas we reduced our brainstorming session down to what was our common denominator-----music. I thought, ’Hey let’s put a band together and play a show ! ! ! We’ll call ourselves the No WTO Combo, the official band of the WTOW l’Il call Kim and Gina, Jello will do the vocals and Pow ! ! ! a night of protest music". We bounced the plan off of Michael Franti and he said that we could count his band Spearhead in for the evening too. It was a slam dunk.

On the Friday before WTO week, Jello flew into town for a weekend of intensive practice sessions at the Murky Slough studio. Jello brought up four songs. There were two new ones, Electronic Plantation and New Feudalism, the old Dead Kennedys favorite, Let’s Lynch The Landlord. Kim, Gina and I wanted to play Full Metal Jackoff, a song he did with DOA a few years back. Schooled in Punk rock, Kim, Gina and I locked in with Jello ready for a night of music and mayhem.

MONDAY THE 29TH

It was. kickoff day with a few events planned for around the town. Downtown there was a lecture at the Benaroya Hall. The Independent Media Center (IMC) held a kick off bash a block away. Up at the Seattlé Center in the Key Arena was the ’People’s Gala’. All of these events were counter WTO, even the Gala even though it was put on by the city. Jello, Kim and I stopped by the Arena. There were a good ten thousand people inside. It was supposed to be hosted by Michael Moore, (not the WTO head) but the filmmakerlactivist. His flight was delayed and he didn’t even make it so Public Citizen’s Mike Dolan rose to the occasion and emceed the night. He put months into organizing the event only to find out he would have to replace Moore and MC minutes before the program began. There were many speakers like, Tom Hayden, Jim Hightower, Sen. Paul Wellstone (DMN) and Jello, to name a few. Seattle Mayor Paul Schell came up to say a few words and was booed. I thought that booing a person who helped put on such an event was wrong and reactionary---Down with the Man, man ! ! ! ! l’ve worked with Mayor Schell on music issues and think that he’s a good man. Also on stage were a group of activists that climbed a construction crane and hung banners earlier that day. They took a bow to a wild cheer. Somebody sprung those crame climbers from jail. I don’t know what happened to the people who climbed the Old Navy store and hung a giant banner that day also. The speakers were on between musical acts. Spearhead played a good set then our trio booked downtown to the Independent Media Center, ground zero for non corporate journalists trying to get the real story out. Inside, there were about sixty people listening to speakers and music also. It was real hot inside. The neighbors were complaining about noise so nobody could cheer or clap and had to snap fingers. I thought that rather novel and tried to snap as loud as I could. After a while, I was feeling burned out so I went home to bed.

TUESDAY THE 30TH - THE BIG DAY

I woke up around nine and turned on the tube while the coffee brewed. All the local news stations had live cameras showing a human blockade around the Convention Center, with images of people standing on top of Metro buses that the cops parked end to end, circling the delegates inside thè.Center like covered wagons under siege. Like the joe on my stove that morning, disorder was already percolating.

Eleven o’clock had rolled around and after a hearty breakfast, Jello headed out to the Veterans Memorial Stadium to meet up with Earth First friends at the big labor rally. I headed downtown towards the mayhem. It was strange walking down Fourth Avenue without there being any cars. In fact, there were no cars out that day except for police. Hitting Westlake Center, in the heart of the shopping district, I came across a group of young anarchists sitting on top of garbage dumpsters in the middle of the street. They had dragged the containers out from an alley, pushed them on their side and sat up on them exuding an air victory and content. Like a pack of lions lounging around a kill, I could tell that they were in the richness of the moment. The revolution was here and now.

Coming up Fourth Avenue was a procession of quite a few hundred people marching for the freedom of Tibet. On the peripheral were people dressed in giant puppet costumes that made statements about corporatism, pollution and injustice. I walked back to Fourth Ave. and headed south. I started to notice graffiti like, ’EAT THE RICH’, ’NO WTO’ and the omnipresent Anarchy A. Coming up on a crowd of people, I noticed the reason for the crowd ; it was a sit in at a police hile. The police had lined up shoulder to shoulder across the corner of Fourth and Union. My eyes were a little irritated and I coughed. People were saying that the cops were slowly releasing gas into the air. Sure enough, all of the cops had gas masks on. At the head of the sit in, a marching band that had on costumes resembling the Wicked Witches guard started to assemble. The head guard bore the colors while the rest fell into line with drums and fake rifles. I didn’t like the idea of a fake rifle because it might get easily mistaken for a real one. The head called out an order and they started to march to a drum beat chorus away from the sit in, turning the corner into a scene of more and more people.

Every time I started to look around I notice that there were more and more people. There was also more and more graffiti. Up Pike street I walked past a Starbucks that was completely trashed. Next door, a jewelers was also trashed, its alarm ringing away in vain for there was not a cop in sight. At another jeweler up the street, two burly dudes stood in front holding ax handles. The only thing that place lost was business from romantic and successful technology entrepreneurs. There was a perimeter to the madness though. You could only go around in about an eight block square area. The police had lines on the edge of the action.

On so many corners there were people with megaphones calling for the end of corporate tyranny. Smaller crowds assembled around these sidewalk evangelists preaching the gospel of their political group affiliation. In fact, there was even a Jesus Freak with a megaphone and signboard walking around barking the good word. Still there were more and more people, more puppets and more performance art. A few good friends of mine passed by me in white face, wearing black, carrying coffins, wailing and crying. 1 wanted to say hello but I knew that this was Butoh and they couldn’t break character. In the middle of an intersection was a drum circle. Around a corner, activists scaled a building with ropes and hung a giant banner to a wild cheering crowd. Around another corner, a white van with giant loudspeakers pumped out techno music. I got it now, this was like Mardi Gras. As time went by, there were more and more people all over the streets or hanging from light poles or sitting on top of awnings and covered bus stops.. Some people were peaceful some were not. There was one guy with a mask on up on an awning spray painting a wall. I yelled up at him, "Hey what if somebody did that to your house ?". He didn’t hear me. I was mad at him. I called him an asshole. Some people on the ground yelled, "Fuck You" at me. 1 said, "Fuck You" to them because 1 considered the spray painting an assault on property and wasn’t this supposed to be a non-violent protest ? (Is yelling obscenities at someone violence ? l’m guilty, I know, I know) Before that thing went any further critical mass started to occur. The forty thousand people from the labor rally at the stadium were marching over into the heart of this madness. I have to tell you that it was so moving to see machinists marching shoulder to shoulder with environ mental ists. Feminists were together with airline pilots. Old people in wheel chairs next to kids. Big labor bosses like John Sweeney and Jimmy Hoffa Jr. marched with people dressed like sea turtles. Wow, the dream was here ! ! ! The Left had finally got it together ! !

1 looked around again ; there was more and more graffiti and destruction. I was not pleased. It was three o’clock at this point. I had a show that night. I was excited about it not only because I was going to play with Jello, Kim and Gina but also, the show was going to be my part of this great day inside the center of the worid.

MUSIC, MAYHEM & CURFEWS

The band was to meet at five o’clock at the studio. Our sound check and load in was at seven. On the way over to the studio, Jello called me to say that the word was out that there was a state of emergency declared with a curfew starting at seven. I got out of downtown just in time to miss the police going on the offensive. On the small TV in the studio we watched that offensive kick into high gear. It looked gnarly and this was even before the curfew took effect. While Jello was staying with me at my place insidé the curfew zone that night, Gina and Kim’s homes were in another part of the city. We were concerned that they couldn’t leave once the curfew started. Also, the show was sold out but how many people could make it downtown to see it ? We called the club and they said to come on down. After watching amazing and troubling footage on the tube, we decided that Kim and Gina should go while the going was good. Their safety could not be guaranteed. I walked down to the Showbox to tell them to postpone the show for a night.

On my way down to the club my eyes were burning and my throat was scratchy from all of the tear gas. There were people, who I could tell were at the protest that day, heading out in the opposite direction. I reached the Showbox and things looked OK inside. I felt like the bearer of bad news. My perspective was that because of the conditions, we should postpone the show for a night. Michael Franti’s perspective was just the opposite of mine. Michael recalled the Rodney King riots in San Francisco a few years back and that situation was a lot like what was going down here. He stated that the cops would leave you alone if you were going about your legjtimate business. The thing that tore me up was when he said that after a crazy day like today ; people needed to come together with the power of music for some healing. I agreed with him completely and I was sold emotionally. Still our band couldn’t make it downtown and what about all of the people who bought tickets and couldn’t make it either ? I walked three blocks over to Third Ave and the IMC. That place was frazzled and in the thick of things. Not much earlier a woman laid inside with a concussion from a rubber bullet to the head. The whole street reeked of gas and my eyes and throat felt it.. I talked to a few IMC people outside in front of the entrance. We looked down the street and could see riot police massing a few blocks down. It was 6:45pm and we were worried that the cops were getting ready for a sweep at seven. Nobody had any good consultation about my problem. 1 don’t blame them, it was a heavy day and l’m sure that they all went through a lot.

I booked back to the Showbox so I could be inside when the curfew took effect. There was a meeting of the minds. I appealed to Jeff Steichen, who owns the place, about insurance liability issues. He seemed pretty torn himself. The club had only half a security staff because they couldn’t make it downtown. "What about an unplugged show at another venue outside the curfew zone ?’, someone asked. A person who books the Central Tavern on Tuesday nights stepped forward. It was two blocks south of the curfew zone. We agreed to postpone the show for the next night.

I called Jello and Michael, and I went over in a cab to 107.7 FM to do a live radio show talking about the day, and the new location for the acoustic set. We got a ride out of there and headed toward the Central. Cabs were operating inside of the curfew so the lock down wasn’t quite complete.

The Central was packed. We walked in and Artis the Spoonman was up on stage doing his thing. After Artis, Jello and I went up and did an acoustic ’Let’s Lynch The Landlord’. Jello did the old Phil Ochs song ’Love Me l’m A Liberal’ a cappella. He also spoke while I plunked around on the guitar. After us, Spearhead came on to, truly, a set of healing music. It was semi-acoustic and it had a very riveting effect. The whole place was hopping from front to rear. A few hundred people crammed in that place for the pure energy of not only the music, but also the day and the moment in the center of the world.

WEDNESDAY THE 1ST

There was an eerie quiet next morning in downtown Seattle. I retraced my steps from the previous day to a starkly different scene. There were police and National Guard troops on every corner. Plywood covered most windows and people were cleaning graffiti off walls. Traffic was light both in the number of cars and people on foot.

Later that afternoon, the second wave of protests began. The scene of forty thousand people from the day before distilled down to quite a smaller number of hard core activists. Large groups, l’m not sure but maybe two hundred to five hundred, marched around the different avenues of Seattle. At 5:30 there was a confrontation between police and protesters right in front of the Showbox., right at the time we were supposed to load our gear in and sound check. Again we watched the battle scene raging outside on a TV inside. We could see the clubs marquee through the tear gas. The confrontation moved up to the Capitol Hill district so we came down to load in. We arrived to a shaken club that was certainly unbowed. We stood out front off and on for fresh air. There were police from all over the state passing by every few minutes. It was like a police parade. Packs of motorcycle cops cruised by in formations exclusive to their own police departments. One minute, about twenty King County Sheriffs cruised by. A short while later the Washington State Patrol would do a tight pass. Special police in armored personnel carriers passed to. Many small town and suburban police were in town for a rare visit and rumble.

Even though the show was a sellout, (the Showbox holds about 1,000+), about four hundred people braved the curfew zone to see it. Ali proceeds from the event went to the Institute for Consumer Responsibility. Playing the show was fun and exciting. The crowd was really jazzed up. We played with great energy. Jello had a great rap and he really lit up. Kim and Gina rocked. I did the last song wearing a gas mask. I hope you can feel the energy of that performance, day and moment on this recording like 1do. Let me tell you that walking off that stage I felt nothing but pure adrenaline. It was such a rush. Spearhead followed with a great set. Michael had sonne moving words.

WINDING DOWN

The rest of the week went on with protests dwindling. Thursday I went to a sit in at the Westin Hotel. The Westin was where President Clinton stayed. Most of the high profile people had left town and the security was loosened.. Still, about six people chained themselves to the front doors. While a crowd of one hundred fifty or so stood by or sat down. Friday I gave Jello aride to the airport. That night my friend Bhagavan Das rolled into town. I sat in with him that night playing my acoustic bass for a night of devotional chanting at the Sri Sivabaliyogi center on Queen Anne. Wow, what contrast to the events of that same week. Saturday morning Bhagavan and I walked around the saure streets that days earlier erupted in social expression. Amidst shoppers dutifully doing their holiday spending and glass repairmen installing large sheets of glass in department store windows, I pointed out and recalled the places where a totally different scene took place that past Tuesday. The feeling and the energy were gone. Like Galileo’s heretical conclusion about the center of the universe, the earth, once again, was orbiting the sun.

MY TAKE

Undoubtedly, the subsequent collapse of the WTO talks was a victory for working people. The reason the talks collapsed was the United States delegation insisted on labor issues that smaller nations with poor labor standards refused to accept. The big labor leaders were marching with the people out on the streets that week. The Democratic administration and party needs the labor vote in this year of election. If anything, the Unions were thrown a bone this round until the next conference in a city with less protest. Working people raised their voices and took to the streets demanding attention for labor, environmental and human rights issues. It was a victory for democracy I was dismayed by the amount of vandalism wrought on our downtown. Some people and editorialists praise and credit the vandals for bringing so much attention to the whole event. While the mainstream media tends to focus more on sensation, it is important to realize that non-violent political organizers made the greatest impact on the WTO ministerial meetings. Many people worked hard for months organizing marches, teach ins and events to shed light on the bad parts of the WTO. It’s these committed activists that deserve the greatest credit for making an impact.

There is an investigation underway concerning police brutality and organization. Indeed, some of those who swore to protect and serve decided whom they were going to apply that oath to. The violence applied to personal property does not mean that law enforcement could apply violence to individual people. There is a big difference between a young punk smashing a window and a professional law enforcer smashing a person. Many police were overworked and received little or no breaks, serving 16+ hours straight for two or three days. There are accusations of poor police planing and coordination between the various agencies. Some of the offending officers have been identified and disciplinary action is pending. Seattle Police Chief, Norm Stamper, resigned days after the protests.

OUTCOME & CHALLENGES

The World Trade Organization was yanked out from under its rock. The whole world is now aware of this entity and its power. It’s up to our People Power to keep the WTO, the IMF, World Bank and their whole corporate agenda in check. In this year of election, the issue of international trade agreements, national sovereignty and global sustainability need to be brought to the forefront. We need the mechanisms of democracy to express ourselves out on the streets, where vie choose to spend our money and in the voting booth.