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The Way Philadelphia's Police Reacted to Activists at the Republican Convention Leaves a Bad Legacy
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The Way Philadelphia's Police Reacted to Activists at the Republican Convention Leaves a Bad Legacy
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by Sara Marcus
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The Republican convention ended almost three months ago. But the torrid, short-lived love affair our city carried on with the GOP this summer leaves many questions unanswered.
During the convention, Philadelphia saw a dangerous suppression of basic rights - among them the First Amendment rights to free speech and free assembly. The city silenced dissent, arrested more than 400 protesters, and illegally detained them until the convention was over.
These arrests aren't standing up in court; of those who have gone to trial so far, the majority have had their charges dismissed, withdrawn by prosecution for lack of evidence or were acquitted.
There are about 150 cases yet to try, and the truth may indeed continue to come out in the courtroom. But even if all the protesters are acquitted on appeal, that won't change what happened during the convention. And it won't change the fact that we all need to be concerned for freedom of speech in this city.
Philadelphia's crackdown on free speech didn't begin with the mass arrests on Aug. 1. It started months earlier, when then-Mayor Edward G. Rendell signed a "right of first refusal" clause that gave the Republicans dibs on the major public spaces in Center City, banning protests even after the GOP had finalized its plans and there were spaces left over. To appease the Republicans, Rendell sold away the First Amendment for a mess of pottage, declaring the city off-limits to its own people.
The city criminalized even the hard-won handful of permitted rallies. On Aug. 1, the Pennsylvania Abolitionists held a permitted anti-death penalty rally on Thomas Paine Plaza downtown. Police surrounded the demonstrators with a triple ring of troops and barricades, preventing people from going to or from the plaza. Several people were arrested for trying. For attempting to attend or leave a legal rally.
Police were watching Philadelphia activists closely for months before the GOP convention - taking pictures of them as they entered meetings, interrogating them about their plans, going through garbage outside their homes, infiltrating e-mail lists, and attending activist meetings undercover. The four state troopers who infiltrated the "puppet warehouse" were just the icing on the cake.
While protesters were still in jail, Police Commissioner John F. Timoney threatened federal conspiracy investigations against demonstrators. The affidavit the police used to enter the warehouse includes profiles on about a dozen liberal and leftist organizations, most of which had no link to the puppet space. The District Attorney's Office said some of this information "may have come" from the FBI. Clearly, it's not what you do that makes you a criminal - it's just what you believe.
A common objection: "But protesters' tactics were so extreme! If they just hadn't blocked traffic . . ." But the city left activists few other choices to be heard. The convention was held miles from downtown, in no-man's land, so traditional street rallies would have been invisible to the Republicans. Even the on-site "protest pit" - available in 50-minute slots - was located far from the convention entrance.
Other traditional modes of political action are similarly ineffectual. This year the "wealth primary" narrowed down the choices for president to no choice at all, long before citizens ever saw the inside of a voting booth. Lobbying, holding elected officials accountable? In the current system of "one dollar, one vote," prestige and money determine political access, and justice is just a term to be tossed around. And august, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King-style marches are just not enough to capture the attention of the media or the nation.
This country was founded on rebellion, dissent and direct action. These activities are not nuisances to be strictly curbed. They are public goods. The people who took to the streets this summer felt that all other avenues had been closed to them. And when the political process closes the door to democratic input, sometimes democratic input needs to shove its foot in the crack.
That process might be noisy sometimes. It might not be polite. But if justice and democracy mean anything to us, then the messiness is worth it.
Sara Marcus (macrotonal@hotmail.com) is a writer and activist in Philadelphia.
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