The Unbearable Lightness of Protesting
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
You can listen to this piece through WBEZ.
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I'm not much for protesting. For one thing, I'm always that guy who screws everything up by taking the chant one round too far. Everyone except me seems to have an internal chanting clock that tells them exactly when to stop, but I always find myself screaming, "NO WAR NO WAR N- oh. yikes."
Also, I don't like conflict. I generally prefer compromise to conflict, which is why I'm opposed to wars in the first place. The protests here have featured quite a lot of conflict, with pro-war demonstrators chanting "U-S-A" and anti-war demonstrators chanting "U-S-A" right back at them, like a patriotic pissing contest. It makes me feel like I'm five years old again: My parents are fighting about who hates cleaning up after our incontinent dachshund more, and I'm standing in the middle saying, "Look, can't we just leave him in the woods and say he ran away?"
But despite these deep-seated protest-related anxieties, I decided I had to join in, because I feel pretty strongly about the war in Iraq. I'm fairly sure that my unshakable belief is that America should not sound the death knell of the UN Security Council by preemptively invading a sovereign nation without international permission. But there is a small chance that I'm unalterably convinced that Saddam Hussein is a dangerous tyrant who must be removed from power by any means necessary. I'll tell you for sure in 20 years, when the historians have figured out who was right.
Just to make sure I can one day tell my children that I demonstrated for the right cause during Gulf War Redux, I spent some time with both sets of protesters. Carrying a straddle-the-fence poster that read, "We Support the Troops," I hung out mostly with the anti-war crowd, partly because I've never learned to appreciate American-flag inspired t-shirts but mostly because they had better slogans. Chanting "U-S-A" gets tiring after a while, but I just couldn't get enough of the catchy cadence of "Hey hey! Ho ho! This racist war has got to go!"
For the most part, it was a surprisingly civil affair, sort of like a dinner party discussion of American foreign policy, except that many of the dinner guests were slathered in face paint and wearing homemade protest fedoras, while others were decked out in riot gear. Everyone agreed with me about supporting the troops, although there seemed to be some argument about whether they should be fighting in Iraq. But the underlying dispute I saw again and again was over whether or not our current President is an idiot. I kept saying, "Can't we all just agree that the President looks like Curious George and Alfred E. Neumann had a baby and go home?" but I did not bring a bullhorn, so I couldn't be heard over the shouting.
I didn't mind the shouting so much as the generally festive atmosphere. Call me a curmudgeon, but I just don't see the political efficacy of jumping around and gesticulating wildly while smiling with your pals. I mean, I'm all in favor of stopping traffic on Lakeshore Drive, whether you're doing it to stop the war or just to remind people that - hey - we wouldn't have to fight wars for oil if y'all just took the el. But do we have to dance in celebration when we take over the Drive?
As both an observer and a participant, I've felt moved and challenged by local rallies on both sides--so long as they remained serious and impassioned. But it's just too easy to dismiss funny hats and face paint.
War isn't fun, and I'm not sure protests should be, either. I do not recall reading that face paint was a central feature of Gandhi's salt march, for instance, and if we want the anti-war movement to be taken as serious as Gandhi was, maybe we need to be serious.
I'm not much for protesting. For one thing, I'm always that guy who screws everything up by taking the chant one round too far. Everyone except me seems to have an internal chanting clock that tells them exactly when to stop, but I always find myself screaming, "NO WAR NO WAR N- oh. yikes."
Also, I don't like conflict. I generally prefer compromise to conflict, which is why I'm opposed to wars in the first place. The protests here have featured quite a lot of conflict, with pro-war demonstrators chanting "U-S-A" and anti-war demonstrators chanting "U-S-A" right back at them, like a patriotic pissing contest. It makes me feel like I'm five years old again: My parents are fighting about who hates cleaning up after our incontinent dachshund more, and I'm standing in the middle saying, "Look, can't we just leave him in the woods and say he ran away?"
But despite these deep-seated protest-related anxieties, I decided I had to join in, because I feel pretty strongly about the war in Iraq. I'm fairly sure that my unshakable belief is that America should not sound the death knell of the UN Security Council by preemptively invading a sovereign nation without international permission. But there is a small chance that I'm unalterably convinced that Saddam Hussein is a dangerous tyrant who must be removed from power by any means necessary. I'll tell you for sure in 20 years, when the historians have figured out who was right.
Just to make sure I can one day tell my children that I demonstrated for the right cause during Gulf War Redux, I spent some time with both sets of protesters. Carrying a straddle-the-fence poster that read, "We Support the Troops," I hung out mostly with the anti-war crowd, partly because I've never learned to appreciate American-flag inspired t-shirts but mostly because they had better slogans. Chanting "U-S-A" gets tiring after a while, but I just couldn't get enough of the catchy cadence of "Hey hey! Ho ho! This racist war has got to go!"
For the most part, it was a surprisingly civil affair, sort of like a dinner party discussion of American foreign policy, except that many of the dinner guests were slathered in face paint and wearing homemade protest fedoras, while others were decked out in riot gear. Everyone agreed with me about supporting the troops, although there seemed to be some argument about whether they should be fighting in Iraq. But the underlying dispute I saw again and again was over whether or not our current President is an idiot. I kept saying, "Can't we all just agree that the President looks like Curious George and Alfred E. Neumann had a baby and go home?" but I did not bring a bullhorn, so I couldn't be heard over the shouting.
I didn't mind the shouting so much as the generally festive atmosphere. Call me a curmudgeon, but I just don't see the political efficacy of jumping around and gesticulating wildly while smiling with your pals. I mean, I'm all in favor of stopping traffic on Lakeshore Drive, whether you're doing it to stop the war or just to remind people that - hey - we wouldn't have to fight wars for oil if y'all just took the el. But do we have to dance in celebration when we take over the Drive?
As both an observer and a participant, I've felt moved and challenged by local rallies on both sides--so long as they remained serious and impassioned. But it's just too easy to dismiss funny hats and face paint.
War isn't fun, and I'm not sure protests should be, either. I do not recall reading that face paint was a central feature of Gandhi's salt march, for instance, and if we want the anti-war movement to be taken as serious as Gandhi was, maybe we need to be serious.
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