Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Revolutionary ideals of the Paris Commune live on in Black Lives Matter autonomous zone in Seattle

The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone in Seattle. Stephen Brashear/EPA
A new autonomous zone set up in Seattle by the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement bears some striking similarities with the Paris Commune of 1871. Despite its brutal ending, the seminal event in the French capital 150 years ago set the agenda for progressive urban politics and broader social justice movements ever since. But while what is happening in Seattle shares some of the political visions of the commune, it faces an altogether different and more sophisticated threat – of being co-opted by creative capitalists.
The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone in Seattle – or Chaz as it has come to be known – was set up on June 8 in the Capitol Hill area of Seattle. It came about as a result of BLM  protesters moving in after the Seattle police abandoned the precinct due to clashes with protesters.
Since then, the protesters have barricaded the perimeter and set up a “no cop co-op” offering free water, hand sanitiser, face masks, food and other supplies. There are teach-ins, street art installations and other activities often associated with anarchist urban protest camps.

Centres of protest

Cities have been the focus of protests movements for centuries, because as urban sociologist Saskia Sassen has argued, the city has always been a place where the powerless can make history. As such, the creation of Chaz has the potential to cement the movement firmly within the pantheon of urban revolutionary histories. And given the list of demands that it has produced, which includes abolishing the police, retrials, amnesties for convicted protesters and rent control, there is a deeply radical politics at its heart.
So there are some obvious comparisons to make between Chaz and the Paris Commune. In Paris, the proletariat were reacting to their long economic oppression by the French elite. In response to an advancing French army looking to disarm them, they barricaded themselves in the capital.
The 2015 book Communal Luxury by the French culture and literature expert Kristin Ross paints a vivid picture of the Paris Commune as an important revolutionary moment. But more than simply accounting for the commune’s failure, she argued that its vision of a radically different world was more important than ever after the 2007-09 financial crash.

Communards with the Vendôme Column in 1871. André Adolphe Eugène Disdéri via Wikimedia Commons

In the three months that the commune existed, communards tore down imperialist statues such as the Vendôme column, changed the education system so that it empowered the working class and abolished the police. Debt was cancelled and rent suspended. There were street festivals and migrants, refugees and women were empowered. The commune, Ross argues so eloquently in her book, is more than a historical event; it is live resource that can also help us build a better world today.

Danger of co-option

Chaz creates a space for these radical politics to gestate, as a real-life urban laboratory of revolutionary thought.
But while there are certainly some similarities with the progressive ideals of the commune, there are some dangers too. The French capitalist state quickly and violently  massacred the commune’s inhabitants. While the Trump administration could potentially react with violence in Seattle, there is also the danger that the co-optive power of urban “creative” capitalism could soften – and eventually blunt – Chaz’s progressive ideals.
Similar autonomous zones have existed around the world for decades such as Christiania in Copenhagen, Denmark and  Užupis in Vilnius, Lithuania. But these and many others have become a kind of pastiche of their anarchist and anti-capitalist ideals. There may still be fundamental principles of solidarity, collective ownership and anti-capitalism within these places. However, they have become cocooned in a veneer of branding, advertising and commercialised and gentrifying versions of the “creative city”. This restricts and severely dilutes the dissipation of their ideologies.

An activist outside the abandoned police station in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighbourhood. Stephen Brashear/EPA

With Chaz too, the lure of “protest chic” may be too much to resist – it is after all in Seattle, one of the US’s most heralded creative cities. For Chaz to resist this, it must resolutely be a space of the oppressed and the black voices of the movement. In essence, white people can help set it up and maintain it, but they must remain silent inside it and let the oppressed use the space to strategise and mobilise.
The Paris Commune didn’t end too well, and the murmurings from President Donald Trump are that the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone may not last too long either. But that the commune is still taught and talked about today is testament to its lasting positive effect within urban politics. It may have been brutally quashed, but its anti-capitalist spirit set an example for nearly 150 years of subsequent urban struggles all over the world.
Cities have always been where the voiceless find their voice and articulate their demands most vociferously. For those who are deeply involved in the BLM movement (which should be all of us), let us hope that is still true.

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Voices, hearts and hands – how the powerful sounds of protest have changed over time

Protest has, by default, always been aligned with sound.
It is an action concerned with the amplification of a message – wanting to make sure it is heard.
Over the past 50 years, protesters’ voices have found power in unison. But activists and onlookers have increasingly been exposed to new sounds – many of which accompany “non-lethal” or “less lethal” weapons that aim to shatter rather than gather the crowd.

Raise your voice

Call and response chants, common to street activism, are thought to have their origins in work songs. The Occupy Movement makes use of a technique dubbed the human microphone – to keep the crowd on-message. In urban environments, chants become further amplified as they  bounce off buildings and hard surfaces.
Today, thousands upon thousands of protestors worldwide are saying Black Lives Matter very loudly.
“I can’t breathe.” Chanting the desperate words of George Floyd – and Dunghutti man David Dungay Jr in Australia.
Some phrases mesh into popular culture through songs. Some songs – like Give Peace a Chance – become iconic chant anthems.
John and Yoko make use of call and response and chanting in their iconic protest song.

Noise as weapon

Whizzing rubber bullets have been used since the 1970s, when they were deployed by the British in Northern Ireland during The Troubles. The hiss of tear gas, used for almost 100 years, is familiar to protesters and onlookers. But technologies introduced in the mid 1990s and developed since have radically reshaped the soundscape of protest.
The weaponisation of sounds is understandable. Our ears, unlike our eyes, have nothing stopping the entry of stimulus. As a sense, hearing is always available and thus vulnerable.
In the natural world, this is of little consequence, as there are few sounds loud enough to cause lasting damage to our hearing. But with industrialisation has come the capacity to produce sounds that exceed a volume we can hear without  causing ourselves damage.
The first non-kinetic weapon widely used against protesters was introduced in North America in 1995. The M-84 stun grenade has also been used with increasing frequency by police agencies in North and South America, Europe, the UK and here in Australia.
Sonic booms, the hiss of tear gas. ‘Combat’ footage at the 2009 G-20 protests in Pittsburgh.
Colloquially know as a flash-bang, these devices are used to stun and temporarily disorient people in their blast radius. This disorientation is effected primarily by an enormous momentary output of sound and intense light. On detonation, the M-84 output a sound pressure level (SPL) of 170 decibels at two metres. That’s equivalent to a sound as loud as a space shuttle taking off.
The M-84 and other similar weapons, including the Stinger Grenade, which combines the sound and light blast with an explosion of over 100 hard plastic balls and CS gas, cause people to become temporarily deaf and may cause long term hearing impairment. Flash-bangs have also resulted in  serious physical injuries and even deaths despite their “non-lethal” label.
The Long Range Acoustic Device (LRAD) and Medium Range Acoustic Device (MRAD) are even more intimidating. Described as “sound canons”, they are a hyperdirectional speaker, meaning they can direct a beam of sound between 30-60 degrees making it very focused and capable of targeting individuals or small groups of people with great accuracy.
Sound weapons have been widely used in the current wave of Black Lives Matter Protests in North America and during the Ferguson Black Lives Matters protests in 2014 over the shooting of Michael Brown.
How hypersonic sounds works and some measures that could save protestors’ hearing.

Powerful beats

New sonic weapons are always emerging, but still the chants of protestors can soar above. The simple sounds – the sonic equivalent of a sound byte – have a power of their own.
Voices, hands and feet can unite in a pulsing wave of sound to create an infectious and repeatable rhythm. Coordinated with physical movement and dance, to create an even more intensely unified sense of communal will.
Over the past weekend, Australian protestors reportedly thumped their fists against their chests, creating a powerful collective heartbeat. The rhythm of the beat as it faded was a powerful wordless statement against the injustice of Indigenous deaths in custody. Silence, too, has an enduring protest legacy.
Voices together at Brisbane’s weekend protest. AAP/Glenn Hunt
It’s not just bodies that are used to create sounds of protest. In 1971, Chilean protestors famously turned to their kitchens into sonic tools, transforming casserole pots and other utensils into a sound state known as Cacerolazo. The tradition continues to resonate this decade in countries like  Columbia and even Canada, where student protesters raised a nightly cacophony with banging pans.
More conventional objects like musical instruments, especially drums, continue to hold a central place in protest too. In Sydney this past weekend, Thirumeni Balamurugan beat a Parai drum to guide the crowd. The instrument is made from the skin of a dead calf and was once associated only with funerals. Now the once-forbidden Tamil drum is common at political rallies.
In North America, drums are playing a strong role in crowd unification, echoing the heavily rhythmic pulsations of the Arab Spring and many protests before it.
Though sound can be used as a weapon in modern protests, the sonic capacity of collected bodies on the street united in purpose and pulse remains powerful.