Showing posts with label Women's March. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women's March. Show all posts

Jan 22, 2019

January 21, 2019: A Movement Without A Cause, No Agenda, Protesting With Platitudes



Today marks the second anniversary of the 'Women's March', sparked by and immediately on the heels of the 'election' of our Caesar Disgustus. Like my daughter, I took part in that march, she in joining the throngs in Washington D.C., while I marched with a large, albeit more modest gathering in Grand Rapids Michigan. (1)

We gathered at the Fountain Street Church and marched to Campau Square, gathering at the Rosa Parks Circle. I was interviewed, so some unfathomable reason, by WOOD-TV, the local NBC television outlet for it's evening coverage of the local news while we gathered at the church and, after the march and the protests at Rosa Park Circle I made my way back to the church once again encountering the reporter who had put me before the cameras. We spoke about the gathering and its possible significance and I commented that if the movement is to succeed, it will have to articulate an agenda.

This weekend, they gathered again, in fewer numbers, about the country. The movement is said to be fractured; riven by rival factions one of whom has embraced the Nation of Islam leader and black nationalist Louis Farrakhan,(2) an association repugnant to others in the movement.

For this reason, it is held by many, the movement has faltered.

I'm not convinced.

Addressing this issue in The New York Times, David Leonhardt observes: “When I've spoken to people from other countries over the past couple of weeks, they have been shocked that Americans have not begun protesting the shutdown in large numbers. About 800,000 federal workers have now gone almost a month without getting paid. Some are struggling to pay their rent or buy medications. Some have gone to pawn shops to get cash. Major functions of government—airline security, food safety, mortgage processing, farm assistance and so on—have been impaired.

“If this were happening in Europe, as Luigi Zingales of the University of Chicago told me, people would be pouring into the streets. And yet in the United States, there has been nothing but a few small scattered rallies.

“Instead of lining up to protest, hundreds of federal workers in Washington lined up last week to eat at makeshift soup kitchens, the photos of them doing so were a study in powerlessness” (3)

Imagine, wrote Leonhardt, a progressive movement large enough to bring pressure upon our Caesar and force capitulation? Indeed, imagine a progressive movement.

What we are witnessing here isn't simply the mendacity of a cabal hell-bent on inflicting pain. We are witnessing pain inflicted upon a segment of the population long reviled by the idiot wrong. One has only to hearken back to that old racist George Wallace to find the roots of this crisis. One of the standard bromides of every Wallace stump speech was to rail against those faceless “briefcase totin' bureaucrats who somehow stood between the great unwashed and their American Dream. This bit of buffoonery happily coincides with the Capitalist's drive to strip the agencies of their regulatory power. So we find the happy marriage of Donald tRUMP with the Koch Brothers and other billionaires, just as Wallace, when he wasn't busting unions at home, would fly about the country in planes provided by Colonel Sanders, all the while posturing as the tribune of the underclass.

But I digress. Public employees have long been the whipping boy of the conservative movement because they are the last bastions of organized labor. If we can get the rubes to revile them by pointing out their job security while they increasingly have none, and remind them, not so subtlely of the evils of affirmative action, then the face of public employment is no longer the face that White America sees in its mirror. Once again the race card is played and the last bastion of the middle class becomes ever more vulnerable.

Leonardt quite rightly suggests a series of one day strikes. National strikes are a staple of European politics and can be very effective. But our masters have, it should be obvious, long mastered the arts of divide and rule.

But the question begs itself: to what end? End the shutdown? Perhaps, but then what? The reason, I suspect, that people are not taking to the streets is that like the “Occupy Wall Street” and the “99 Per Cent” movements, the “Resistance” has no agenda.

Yes it has inspired many women to get into the political arena, and this is an accomplishment that deserves its recognition. But it is not enough.

Today the nation gathered once again to honor Martin Luther King. As we mark the half-century of his passing it is worth noting how the power structure has transformed King and what this day now represents.

King comes down to us now as an apostle of peace, adherent of non-violence, who quietly pressured the establishment to let his people go. A kind of Moses, a nearly universally revered figure who led his people and the nation out of the darkness and into the promised land. In this way King has been, in the hands of the dominate white culture, transformed into that knighted state in which he represents not the struggle of the underclass but the eternally transcendent America. In the hands of Corporate America, King has undergone a metamorphosis with a face as white as the marble statue that graces the Washington Mall. A non-threatening Martin. A Martin who spoke in moral platitudes about some distant goal, like Jesus about the Kingdom Come.

But that wasn't King at all, and that wasn't the essence of the movement. It was about the urgency of now, real goals in real time. It was more like Moses speaking about the promised land and taking the people there.

The essence of the movement was not justice in service of morality; but morality in service of justice; and by that he meant economic justice. King understood that in order to exploit a human being one has to degrade him. Slavery was, after all, first and foremost an economic system. Accordingly, he drew deeply upon the religious and political tenets of our culture to justify a movement that demanded justice—foremost economic justice.

It was the bus boycott in Montgomery where it began, and the demonstrations on behalf of the sanitary workers in Memphis where it ended. And when it ended, King was already deep in planning a March On Washington with full intention of building a tent city on the Mall of the poor and dispossessed of ALL RACES from around the country in an effort to force the issue of the maldistribution of wealth into the national consciousness.

To achieve these ends, King would not only demonstrate but would do so in an effort to bring attention to and demand remedy for specific issues whether it be voting rights, school integration, public housing, jobs, or the ending of real estate practices that segregated neighborhoods.

And he would break the law in order to achieve these ends, because justice demands a higher service, a higher morality than currently codified in the law. It was ugly. He called upon the nation to face itself, to live up to its promises, to be what it pretends to be. In so doing he was, and had to be, intentionally confrontational, and the confrontations provoked often violent eruptions. The racism that pervades this country was put on television for the nation and all the world to see.

These are radical ideas and strategies. Indeed, they are revolutionary. So confrontational that violence was King's—and the movement's—constant companion.

For his efforts, King was hated and reviled. It was after he was safely dead that his image was scrubbed white.

Progressives need to learn from the entire history of the Civil Rights movement, as well as the Progressive, Anti-slavery, Suffragette, and Labor movements. Nothing is gained without struggle; nothing is gained without putting your body on the line; nothing is gained without cost. Foremost, nothing is gained without an agenda. You cannot win protesting platitude. You must make demands.

Our ancestors understood this. The Progressives sang “We will have our eight hours” and organized unions and took to the streets to get it. Likewise the suffragette in the streets to get the vote. But it was to get the vote—not simply to draw attention to the evil. One must organize around specific remedy.

The fear among the progressives is that if we take a stand on specifics the movement will splinter and die. This is not the lesson of Martin Luther King, the Civil Rights Movement, or any effort to achieve justice. To not put forward a list of demands will ensure the withering of the movement for there will be nothing about which to rally.

Just ask Martin Luther King or, for that matter, Martin Luther.

Impeach and Imprison.

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  1. See. February 26, 2017: Support and Rememberance, To The Ramparts, Seeking Ablution
  2. Leonhardt, David. “Where Have You Gone, Resistance?” The New York Times. Monday, January 21, 2019. Page A19






Feb 26, 2017

February 26, 2017: Support and Rememberance, To the Ramparts, Seeking Ablution


On Saturday, January 21, I took part in a demonstration.  For weeks my daughter had been talking of taking part in the national 'women's' demonstration scheduled for the day after the inauguration in Washington D.C, and had gone online in search of a more local event which, she had hoped, I would be able to join.  The closest event being planned turned out to be in Grand Rapids and she decided that it might be too great a reach for the old man and dropped the subject.

Later, while perusing my email, I encountered a missive from one Caitlin Maloney from the "Courage Campaign" with the heading "Women's March on Washington: The pussy grabs back". How could one resist such an appeal?  Indeed.  I found myself irresistibly drawn to participate once again, to take to the ramparts and register my protest; to become part of the resistance. 

Accordingly, I looked up the information regarding the particulars of the event in Grand Rapids and decided that I, too, would join the march. 

The event was held on Saturday, January 21, at the Fountain Street Church.  For those not in the know, Grand Rapids'  Fountain Street Church is a venue which has hosted everyone from U2 to Winston Churchill and has long been a rallying point for those seeking expression.  Originally constructed as a Baptist Church it became, decades ago, nondenominational and has accordingly become an institution giving free expression to a range of religious and non-religious points of view. 
I made my arrangements and arrived at ten in the morning as the event was getting underway.

I made the journey alone.  Upon arriving I found myself wondering about the narthex of the cathedral where the organizers had placed several tables upon which were items for sale.  I found myself spending ten dollars on a sign reading:

IN THIS HOUSE, WE BELIEVE:
BLACK LIVES MATTER
WOMEN'S RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS
NO HUMAN IS ILLEGAL
SCIENCE IS REAL
LOVE IS LOVE
KINDNESS IS EVERYTHING

I purchased the item as a means of making a contribution to the cause as well as to have a souvenir that I could then pass on to my daughter who was, at that very moment, in Washington D.C. taking part in the center-stage event around which several hundred local protests were organized. 

As I wondered about, a woman approached me from behind and, taking my arm, pulled me aside to inquire what I was doing there.  I was a bit taken aback by the approach thinking that perhaps she had mistaken me for an errant tRUMP voter who, now seeking ablution, was now about the business of assuaging his conscience if not, by making a rare appearance in church, appealing now to a higher authority lest the grim reaper arrive before forgiveness is bestowed upon this lost soul.  I gently explained that I was here in support of my daughter who was now taking to the ramparts in the nation's capitol.  She seemed satisfied with my explanation and I could discern in her countenance that forgiveness was not in order and that I was indeed welcome into the fold.  I then walked about a bit, took my sign to my van for safekeeping, and then returned in time to find a place in the pews as the event got underway.

There was a bit of poetry reading, including a choice by Langston Hughes' I, Too, Sing America" followed by someone about to set up and sing some protest songs when someone once again tapped me on the arm.  I turned to find that the same lady who had buttonholed me earlier inquiring if I would mind being interviewed on local television.  I followed her out of the church into the daylight and was introduced by a channel 8 reporter for WOOD-TV of Grand Rapids.  I was led to a nearby stairway where she set up the camera and, standing behind the camera she asked her first question:

"As a white man", she queried, "what brings you here today?"

I was a bit taken aback.  Has 'identity' politics come this far? Nonplused, I soldiered on. 

"As a white man for sure," I responded, "but also as a father and a great grandson..."   I then went on to explain that a century ago my grandmother and great grandmother who were area organizers for the Woman's Christian Temperance Union and, along with my great uncle, demonstrated for women's suffrage; and that indeed the struggle, now well more than a century old,  continues today.  In their remembrance, and in support of my daughter who was at the ramparts in D.C., I am here today.  Indeed along with the more than 280 others who had left Fountain Street Church and traveled to D.C. by bus from Grand Rapids earlier in the week. 

I then joined the march from the Fountain Street Church to Rosa Parks Circle located at Campau Square.  As we approached our destination a certain de ja vu overwhelmed me.  It had been nearly half a century since I walked these streets and took part in a political event and as I looked about and registered what had and had not changed since that distant spring morning in April 1968, I could still hear that voice in my ears. (1)

"There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
some forever, not for better
Some are gone, and some remain.  --The Beatles "In My Life"

I had started out earlier in the day quite alone seeking only to add my support by my participation in an event that would involve, across the country, many millions of people.  I ended up, quite by chance, on the local news.  It is indeed strange how these things sometimes evolve; hard to know what life has, at any given time, in store.  I had set out in search of an event only to find myself confronting not only my turbulent age, but my own distant youth.  My daughter had been right.  It was indeed quite  a reach for the old man. 

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(1).  See previous post: April 11, 2008: A Sunny Afternoon at Campau Square, "There aren't any Republicans Here, Are There?", Great Leaders Don't Grow On Trees