(I participated in a march this afternoon, protesting our continued war against the middle east. I scribbled down some notes in my car afterwards. These are they.)
I don't think this did a damn bit of good. At least, that's how I think on the way back to my car. My 3.5 hours of time, my $8 in parking and copies, my presence, my handing out anarchy magazines (slingshot) and fliers for an organization I found out about this week (action NW), or even the long walk past the mall. Nothing. Because, as I walk back to my car, there are no signs we were even there. A thousand people (at best) in the street for an hour with signs and slogans and even trumpets and drums. Yet no signs remain. These shoppers may not even have heard us over the ring of the till as they purchase their happiness.
Yet I had to do it. Even just to force people to take free things from me to clear that much more space in the garage. And, I won't say it's hopeless. But it is like this fire alarm going off across the street. No one's running from the building -- that girl mopping is not even leaving -- and no fire trucks are racing to the scene. Sure, there's an alarm, but it will go away soon, they hope.
I think the reason I went is to reaffirm the potential of such gatherings. Sure, they have potential, but the fight is daunting and the counter-argument of individual happiness over everyone else's contentment is hard to deny.
So, I think it still boils down to this: who do we consider when we choose to act? I must say, I don't consider others enough. I need this cool car, I need this fine house, I need this fancy computer, etc. My needs are inconsequential to those truly in need. If we considered them before we stopped in to purchase something else we think we need, perhaps they'd be better off.
So, on the way back to my fancy car, I stopped in at my least favorite place in the world, Pacific Place mall. Again, I was struck by how the march just a few blocks away had absolutely no impact. The shoppers continue to buy, the sellers continue to profit. Perhaps a few of them realize that a few thousand miles away is a war that strives to create a chain store outlet mall for america. I don't see them doing anything about it, though.
I can't take it and after daydreams of bomb threats and a trip to the bathroom, I head past the McDonald's where we protected our fries from skinheads before attending our first concert ever. I recall how I love this city as thirty people wait for the walk sign with no cars anywhere. I think some more about what I can do to make this place better for everyone.
don.
