On my aborted drive home today, two AM shock jocks claimed the police were arresting Occupy LA protesters for blocking traffic in a few intersections. I was a few miles northwest of Downtown and decided to drive by and catch the action. Traffic wasn't too bad, and my lane weaving skills have improved after driving in Los Angeles for a few months.
By the time my brakes finished squeaking to 3rd and Temple, whatever arrests may have happened had occurred, and Downtowners had once again given the occupiers a collective shrug.
I at first turned away from the collection of Skid Row homeless, idealistic college-agers and parents enjoying a drug induced mid-life crisis turned Wayback Machine ride to the 60's Protest movement few of them visited during their teenage years. On second thought, I had driven all the way down there with bad breaks, unresponsive back lights and half a windshield coated with sap. I may as well walk through the camp grounds.
I attempted to write a blog about the infrastructure developing at the protest site, but the website, Street Boners and TV Carnage, was inundated with posts about the various Occupy movements and too journalistic for their tastes.
"May as well see who stuck around," I thought to myself as I paid three dollars for an hour parking spot and trotted towards city hall grumbling.
The atmosphere had changed at the tent city. Relative silence blanketed the protest grounds; protesters huddle together in tents sucking on pipes; no one said hello or tried to speak with passerbys as they strode between through the narrow gaps turned de-facto avenues running between campsites.
Except one man wearing a baby blue t-shirt with Jesus riding a dinosaur.
He attempted to hand me an advertisement for a website masked as a business card.
"What is this?" I asked.
He cast a wide smile in direction. "It lets you know what companies you can boycott."
"You mean, without this card I can't stop buying products from these businesses?" I replied.
He chuckled without losing his grin.
"It lists companies with unethical business practices."
"How was the list compiled?"
"It's gathered from a website forum where people post empirical evidence about company's labor practices."
"That's innovative. You've chosen to justify your political opinions with unverified information posted by anonymous users on the internet."
A female associate who had been walking with the advocate glanced at the sidewalk behind him while he responded.
"Some of it could be direct. I wouldn't call them indirect accounts..." He replied and trailed off into a smaller, gentler grin.
"You don't know of the veracity of your convictions, but you're going out there and educating potential consumers. You're a champion of modern democracy my friend."
I left him to salvage what chance he had of convincing the young woman to read more of his literature inside his private tent.
Although the spirit of the Occupy movement resonates with me, the superficial attempts at political discussion exemplify most of my disagreements with the participants. Many of their supporters defend their tendencies towards vague, trendy and often buzzword filled messages by pointing to the short duration of the political group thus far.
The ultimately ineffective protest movements of the 60's and 70's used similar tactics to those of the Occupiers, but initiated them with a goal in mind: the reinstatement of a controversial teacher, a withdrawal of troops from Vietnam or the institutionalized repression of black Americans.
The radical groups of years past achieved victories. Many small, or short lasting, but tangible victories nonetheless.
Until someone comes up with a new way of combating social ills, I will continue my own way and provide a voice of the dissent for my well-intentioned peers. If every little bit doesn't help, at least it'll amuse myself and those around me...at least the ones reading this blog -- hopefully -- and those I'm not speaking to directly.
Before I left a young man offered me half of a taco, which I imagine he had procured from the free food tent.
Skid Row, the notorious encampment of Southern Californian homeless, lay less than a mile from the protest site.
"No thank you. I'd save it for someone who needs it," I responded.
He flashed me a quizzical glance then shrugged and continued munching on his taco. I watched him for a moment as live music filled the tiny enclave on the south section of city hall.
The world shrugged as well.
Signing off,
Tony Magnum
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