Preoccupied Wall Street

I apologize for the delay in getting this up. I'd hoped to do it the same day it happened, but one thing led to another, and then another...

Last Thursday, I noticed that several helicopters were hovering around downtown. They were readily visible, and audible, from my 12th floor office and were not patrolling but simply hanging around one spot. Jeremy, our intrepid office manager, knew what was going on, and so, apparently did the rest of the world: It was the two-month anniversary of the Occupy Wall Street Movement, and the night before protesters had been very dramatically kicked out of Zucotti Park. People were angry and felt their rights were being infringed upon, and so they staged a march from Union Square (this is what the helicopters were monitoring) to City Hall. 

I had not been involved in any part of the protest before this, but it looked like the kind of big event I should at least check out, for rubbernecking purposes if nothing else. Near the end of the work day, I watched a live stream broadcast on my computer by a guy with a video camera as he marched down Broadway, narrating the experience. There were police everywhere, but so far it seemed to be pretty mellow. After work I hopped a train to Union Square and stepped out of the train to a station, then a square, swarming with cops, some in riot gear. They were patrolling stairwells or congregating next to cars, but they looked pretty calm (despite the riot gear they were wearing) and there were no protesters in sight. Apparently, the march had not taken the 9-5 crowd's schedule into account and had already moved on. 

I went back to the station to wait for the next downtown train. I wasn't exactly sure which stop I needed, as I don't frequent City Hall, but when I spotted a thin, bearded guy in proletarian work boots, holding an enormous video camera and talking to another thin, bearded guy holding a pad and pen and knew I was home free. These "journalists" were clearly going the same way I was, and all I had to do was follow them. I meandered closer and listened to their conversation from behind a pillar. They appeared to have just met, and the guy with the camera was telling his new friend all about interviews he was planning to stage with different OWS participants. The train came at last, and the three of us got on the same car. After a few stops, one of them came towards me to look at the subway map behind me. "City Hall?" I asked him. He laughed, and said, "Lucky guess." "It's the next stop," I said. "You're not going?" he asked. "Oh no, I am," I replied, and added, in response to his question, that it was my first time to be "involved with the movement." His friend started to lift his pad and pen, and I studiously busied myself with my phone. I did not want to be interviewed as the voice of the new recruits. 

The station was chaotic when we got off the train, and the chaos only intensified as we left the station. Cops were everywhere, patrolling stairwells, street corners, and barricades. I had no idea which way to walk, but my trusty GPS pointed me in the right direction. Until, that is, I arrived at a barricade. A harried-looking cop told me and a group of others trying to make their way through that the sidewalk was closed. He told us in a tone both polite and tense how to use an alternate route to get to City Hall, and so I set off in that direction. The crowds thickened as I got closer. People with signs were everywhere, and some were chanting, "Occupy Wall Street/All day,/All week," over and over. Cops lined the gutters, blocking the streets so that protesters would stay on the sidewalks and cars could still travel on the roads. (I saw no signs of the police brutality I've heard about on the news. I read this morning that the OWS movement has cost $13 million in taxes for law enforcement and other services, and it was an easy number to believe given the number of police and the amount of equipment they were using to keep the crowds somewhat contained.) The scene once I got as near to City Hall as I was likely to be able to get was charged. People were chanting, waving signs, and handing out fliers. A shrill woman's voice on a loudspeaker, being broadcast over the whole crowd and talking about the strength of the movement and Americans speaking out, competed with a guy on his own bullhorn yelling about how it was time to embrace communism. What surprised me most about the crowd was the age of its members. I had expected more young, bearded types, like the ones on the train. Instead, the average age seemed to be about 40, with plenty of Occupiers much older than that. 

The square in front of City Hall

Five minutes there were enough for me, and I headed back the way I'd come. This turned out to be a failed endeavor, because the crowd had started to march toward the Brooklyn Bridge and the entrance to the subway I'd used to get there was completely blocked. I went two extra blocks to use another line instead, relieved to be out of the mess.

I wasn't expecting to be particularly inspired, and the experience met my expectations. The reason for this, I think, echoes a criticism I've heard a lot of people raise: Occupy Wall Street has no unified statement. Each protester brings his/her own message to the movement, and while that can be sort of cool, it also means that no one is going to be able to make them all happy. I've participated in marches and demonstrations, mostly for gay rights, they felt very productive. Everyone was on the same page, and our demands were clear. This protest felt very different. It seemed to be little more than a very large collection of angry people. I heard messages about embracing communism and socialism. I saw signs about unjust immigration policies and lack of funding for post-secondary education. I was handed fliers about health care reform and campaign finance. People talked excitedly about unemployment and taxes. It was dizzying. A lot of people were unhappy about a lot of things. The thing that unified them was distain for the famous "1%." My feelings about the situation are complicated and only half-solidified, which is part of the reason I had not gone down to check out OWS before this. There are certainly a multitude of problems in the country and the government, but I'd like to see a more organized, unified method of airing them.

One of many messages

 I went straight from City Hall to the gym. There, and for the rest of the night, I did not hear mention of OWS on the subways or streets. No one seemed to be either aware or concerned about what was going on at City Hall. It was a pretty interesting experience to go from pandemonium to business as usual in a few short stops on the train. Is this a metaphor for something? I'm not sure, but I am sure I won't be adding my own sign advertising my own agenda to the throng any time soon.