Recalling a Past Demonstration

October 5, 2006 is a day for Portland, Oregon to remember.

Approximately seven hundred demonstrators marched from Park and Main Street to protest the George W. Bush Administration, and the war they regarded as unjust. Banners, megaphones, bandannas, gas masks, sun hats, beards, wheelchairs, buttons, stickers, and signs displaying such messages as, "Please, someone give President Bush head so we can kick him out of office" progressed through downtown Portland. Once in motion, the group stopped outside of such buildings as The Oregonian newspaper, and drummed out rhythms and chants like, "Free the press!" The workers inside looked out the windows from above, holding coffee cups and imagining how best to represent the scene in words.

It was when protesters, mostly students and youth, began confronting the police lines that intensity flared. One young protester, who had read his poetry at the rally, instigated a push through police lines. He had dirty red hair and a short beard, and his disordered clothing made him appear as one of the Lost Boys. People started telling the cops to go away, that this was a peaceful gathering that needed no watching over. "These are our streets!" people shouted. Suddenly, a few dashed through the police line, and about fifty people followed. "These are our streets!"

It was then that the confrontation became serious. Jefferson Avenue was now held by protesters who were there on the premise that they were citizens occupying their own public space. Police were there to reprimand the group that, to them, had turned a peaceful protest into a teasingly violent confrontation. The protesters would not budge. One side of the street yelled, "Who's streets?" and the other would respond, "Our streets!" This continued, as police began to do some organizing of their own.

Soon, officers brought out bean bag guns, pepper spray, horses, and a riot squad. Protesters continued their plight, and a few stood in the middle of the street, offering their wrists to law enforcement. One woman took off her shirt and exposed her breasts.

Officers would later get the brunt of intense ridicule, that they had been too forceful with their approach to the whole thing. One officer had kicked a woman who was sitting on the sidewalk, others reared their horses on protesters, and others still fired shots at peaceful protesters. A local lawyer's phone number spread, as people wrote it on their arms. Later, those involved were encouraged to press charges on individual officers involved at the scene.

But this is why the World Can't Wait protest that happened in Portland, Oregon on October 5, 2006 should be remembered: it is an example of how important it is to stay together and silent, above all else. When a protest is organized to speak out against war, that organization should not devolve into a smiting of local law enforcement. Emotions run high in such minute confrontations, and degrade what initially begins as a noble project. Imagine this same scenario, only with a group of people that had held Jefferson Avenue in silence, as civil and informed human beings congregating around a common project. Upon any utterance or deviant act, law enforcement pounces and makes its case. Silence cannot be pounced upon, as it is the presence of peace. Philosophers like Eric Hoffer become valuable when speaking to such a theme as mass protest, and the importance of keeping one's peace:

All mass movements generate in their adherents a readiness to die and a proclivity for united action; all of them, irrespective of the doctrine they preach and the program they project, breed fanaticism, enthusiasm, fervent hope, hatred and intolerance; all of them are capable of releasing a powerful flow of activity in certain departments of life; all of them demand blind faith and singlehearted allegiance (Hoffer, Eric. THE TRUE BELIEVER. Harper Collins, 2002).

Hoffer goes on to say that the "true believer" is willing to die for his cause. What better way to embody death than to be silent? In silence, which is to say the meditative singularity, pain, both physical and mental, can be endured. When bludgeoned, the silent one's case is amplified. The true project of the activist protester is to learn pain. Step one: be silent.

It is 2011, and the United States is still at war. In the spirit of fixing our American system, let's continue to learn more and more about it so that it may be cured. Bureaucracy will continue to breed entropy, so there is a place to start: how do we reduce bureaucracy? What steps can we take to have a more personal connection with our officials? Express the knowledge that these answers provide in whatever medium it is that you know best. Teach others. Show that by re-learning trust, we can go back to exercising compromise. Only then will we end our war, and get back to tending to the real work that needs to be done here in the States.

To read a public thread on the events of October 5, 2006, visit the Portland Independent Media Center here.

Read an official news account of the event here.