Question and A.N.S.W.E.R.

Like many of you, I was, to say the least, shocked and awed by our president's decision--contrary to public opinion and private sense--to escalate the war in Iraq. So, with much anger and frustration, I decided that I would be among those publicly showing their hostility to the decision, and participate in a public march.

I left the march more dejected than when I arrived. My reasons for feeling ill were twofold: the first had to do with the organizers and the tone, the other had to do with city government and the state of free speech in America.

Across the Bay Area, where I currently reside, a plethora of protests were planned for yesterday--so many, in fact, that you had to wonder why all these grassroots groups couldn't simply hold one big protest anyway. But I digress. I decided to attend what seemed to be the largest of rallies, planned by ANSWER, in downtown San Francisco. The rally was forming on Market Street, our main artery downtown. There were banners. A lot of banners. There were irate citizens--about 400 hundred, not bad for a rapidly mobilized event.

But it all felt so old, so tired. The sloganeering, the predictable call-and-answers, the undirected anger. Worst off all was the muddling of the issues. I came to protest the escalation of the Iraq War, not for the freedom of Palestine or the removal of US troops from South Korea. ANSWER: don't use a more salient issue like the Iraq War to prove that public support exists for your whole ideological programme (and I use that Marxist language purposefully). The dishonest transition between a chant for the removal of US troops from Iraq and one of "Free Free Palestine" is highly discrediting.

But worse, indeed, much worse, than ANSWER's muddling of issues, was our treatment by the city of San Francisco. Imagine: the march begins, down Market Street, tall buildings everywhere, scores of people, a loud protest in the heart of the financial capital of the West coast, then a right turn, away from Market. Where was the SFPD directing us? Towards empty side streets, devoid of people, devoid of light, devoid of significance. We are chanting to nothingness. I am told curtly by a police officer to not cross the double yellow line to march on the other side of the street. The revolution will not be televised, because no one can find it.

I shuddered as I marched through the listless streets, the shouts of "Free Free Palestine" receding as we reapproached Market Street.