Taking it to the Streets

Marching with Argentina's New Generation of Revolutionaries

BY KEVIN SIEFF AND CHRISSIE KONINGISOR

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Bragging about the LA Lakers, Diego puts his hands over his head and slams an invisible basketball as only Kobe Bryant can. His friends watch, passing cheap bottles of wine and laughing at the long-haired, full-bearded twenty year old, who looks more like Jim Morrison than anyone who has ever stepped foot on a basketball court. The wine loosens our tongues as we drive through the night, giving rise to an atmosphere of youthful camaraderie, as well as a passionate discussion of the impending Boca-River soccer match. There is so much camaraderie, in fact, that the two of us almost forget about the language barrier, our seats on the sticky bus floor, and—with the passing of more wine and unintelligible soccer stories—our destination.

And then Diego takes out his video camera. "Say something in English," he says from behind a machine that hides all but his beard, "say what you think about Bush." The students grow quiet as we explain our political beliefs to the camera, and the bus—decorated with posters of Bush's face superimposed on Hitler's body—is slowly resuscitated. Still, as the old bus rattles its way to Mar De Plata, a beach-side city five hours south of Buenos Aires, it becomes clear that the party won't last much longer. We pass lines of broken down buses, as the demand for transportation has led to a temporary recall of vehicles long past their prime. Our final destination is the Summit of the Americas, an economic forum held on the weekend of November 4th in which the leaders of North and South America will discuss contemporary political problems, specifically the Free Trade Area of the Americas, a traditionally divisive issue for the Americas. FTAA—the most recent incarnation of North America's attempt to reduce trade barriers between countries—has highlighted the differences in economic philosophies between the US and the countries of MERCOSUR (Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay).

The anti-summit, or the Summit of the People, is the popular response of indigenous groups, trade unions, students, and the unemployed—an attempt to counter the meetings of world leaders. Walking into the University of Mar de Plata, the headquarters of the anti-summit, it's difficult to imagine the dilapidated building as an institution of higher learning; desks are piled to the ceiling, a flailing red flag attempts to block the gusts of wind that blow through broken windows. We step over hundreds of sleeping students, strewn in hallways, stairwells, and across classroom floors.

This Is Not A Whisper

Slowly, bodies uncurl to pack up sleeping bags and blankets. A circle forms in the center of the room and party leaders offer last minute words of advice in the moments before the protests begin. "If the police hit you, don't run." In the hallway, students unfurl flags bearing sickles and hammers. "Yankees go home" is scrawled across huge homemade banners, each with the letters PCR on the right-hand corner. Initially curious about the political machinations of the country in which we're living, we soon realize—as students scrawl "Yankees go home" on huge banners--that a so-called "objective" pursuit of knowledge would be difficult. PCR, the group whose initials are inscribed on the banners "is a student political party in the Maoist tradition, fighting for national liberation from the imperialist forces," describes anthropology major Nicholas Gomez. The final goal is a socialist system, he explains as we walked to the protest, "yet it is a change than cannot be realized within formal political channels, requiring instead a massive, sweeping national revolution." PCR, as well as other student groups with both local and national followings, gained much of its support in the early 90's when failed neo-liberal reforms left much of the Argentine working class without jobs or homes. These reforms, prescribed by both the US and the IMF, constitute the Washington Consensus, whose emphasis on rapid privatizations contributed to economic crises in developing nations around the world. In the weeks leading up to both the Summit and anti-summit, international corporations have been defaced by leftist groups who blame foreign multinationals for the hundreds of Argentine companies that have been driven out of business over the last 10 years.

Arriving at Mar de Plata's soccer stadium, PCR's flags are lost among 15-foot portraits of Che Guevera, Fidel Castro, and Eva Peron, each bearing the insignias of different groups. From student anarchists to the unemployed, thousands file into the stadium as anti-Bush chants grow louder and louder. Outside of the stadium these groups have trouble finding common ground, yet as they wait anxiously in the pouring rain for Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez to speak, they are united by both their hatred for one man as well as their love of another. Chavez speaks without notes, sacrificing eloquence for the sake of emotion, appealing more to the spirit than to the intellect. His speech is punctuated by spontaneous outbursts from the crowd; from the simple, "Bush, you are a fascist and a terrorist," to references to the illegitimacy of the external debt, the chorus of 25,000 voices keep pace with his two-hour oratory.

Thousands file out of the stadium, still chanting and jumping in unison, like troops inspired by their general's final words. We find ourselves in the middle of the crowd, as teenage boys wrap their faces in dark scarves, ski masks, or whatever else might protect against waves of tear gas. As police prepare guns loaded with rubber bullets, we walk towards the conflict beneath a banner that reads "USA: Cancer of the Planet." Despite our initial fear of the crowd, we are quickly adopted by a local student group; their arms locked with ours, we form a human wall marching towards the barricades. They shove the phone numbers of reliable lawyers in our pockets and give tips on what to do when arrested. It is a harsh reminder of the history of the country in which we are marching; a history marred by the police's systematic kidnapping, murder, and torture of more than 30,000 citizens just over 20 years ago. We are among a new generation of protestors whose relationship to this history is mixed. While some are here without their parents' approval, others are the next line in a long tradition of political activism. As she leads us forward, a new friend describes how her mother had witnessed the murder of 14 of her friends during the repressive dictatorship.

Flight Into Chaos

Helicopters hover above and ambulance sirens scream in the distance as the police launch canisters of tear gas that explode among the throngs of protestors. Led by a five foot tall 17-year-old girl we move slowly forward until, without warning, an explosion of gas sends thousands running, all covering their faces with shirts doused in seltzer water to filter the noxious fumes. There's a moment of chaos as friends look for each other and offer protection to those who are less prepared, but within minutes the group is one again. As the fight between thousands of police officers and protesters wears on, the crowd begins to retreat; while the majority of groups begin the long walk back to the university, hundreds remain to smash windows and torch buildings. These would be the photos on the front pages of newspapers around the world—masked men committing seemingly spontaneous acts of destruction. The destruction, however, is all but spontaneous; first American corporations are systematically targeted, then multinationals and, lastly and most symbolic of the collapse into chaos, the most radical groups begin to target their own people, as family owned restaurants and stores are destroyed.

As the once-organized protest spirals into an uncontrolled riot, we decide to abandon PCR in favor of the non-violent protesters who are making their way back to the university. Later, disillusioned by the violent turn the protest had taken, we ask Nicholas Gomez about the rationale behind such acts of destruction. As Gomez explains, "our group supports and participates in the acts of violence, but not senseless violence. We don't support targeting of family businesses." Even as papers around the world begin to condemn the destruction, Gomez defends his group's actions, "I believe it is better to have acts of violence even if there is a negative response. It is a warning for Bush and for Kirchner; Kirchner invited Bush and we say 'no.'" Gomez also points out that, "it is likely that many of the violent acts committed against Argentine companies are perpetrated by undercover policemen, in an effort to turn public opinion against the youth."

Back at the university, we crowd into a tiny room where the protest leaders gather to check the websites of newspapers around the world. They had defined a "successful" protest as one in which their message was heard. With front page photos of the march's destruction, even Bush—safely tucked behind cordons of police and towering walls—is forced to acknowledge that "it's not easy to host all these countries — particularly not easy to host, perhaps, me."

Details Of The War

The bus pulls out from the university parking lot as leftover flyers and posters litter the quadrangle. We're grateful to actually have seats this time until we realize the reason for our good fortune. Several PCR members were among the 86 people arrested during the protest. Time in prison is hardly the greatest fear for the frequent protesters. Just last year a 25 year old student-protester was beaten and killed by the police after being detained at a protest in northern Argentina. The police reported that he hung himself from his shoelaces, but when the body was returned it was covered in bruises. Now, as the bus makes its way back to Buenos Aires the drinking and joking is replaced by coughing and crying, the after effects of the tear gas. We admire the students' passion, but we can't help but acknowledge the way in which that passion became manifested in violence.

Diego sits behind us, his eyes still watering. "What did you think about the protest," he asks. The two of us are too tired and confused to articulate a coherent response, not knowing that the next morning our nation's journalists and government officials would articulate one for us. His words, or any explanation of PCR's rationale, is absent, replaced by President Bush's summary of the protest's motivation. "I understand not everybody agrees with the decisions I've made, but that's not unique to Central or South America," he said. "Truth of the matter is, there's people who disagree with the decisions I've made all over the world. But that's what happens when you make decisions."

Kevin Sieff B'07 and Chrissie Koningisor B'07 gaze into a bottle of dusty moonshine and wonder where their youth went.

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