Turning the Other Cheek

ON ONE SIDE, face quivering with anger, eyes betraying his fear, stands a state trooper, leather boots up to the calf, white riot helmet, gas mask on his belt. On the other side, a demonstrator, mouth set in righteous defiance, shoulders hunching forward and back almost at once, spunk and fright in equal parts. The motorcycle helmet, the gas mask on his belt too. In between the two of them, eight feet of chain link and three strands of barbed wire.

Suddenly the demonstrator lunges forward, boltcutter in both hands; "Create a diversion," someone has yelled, and he does, poking the tool through the fence, pretending to cut, trying to keep the cop on the spot. The trooper has something in his hands too--a four-foot wooden bat, which he swings with all his might at the cutter. Back and forth they go, five or six times, the protester poking and taunting, like a child at the zoo; the man in the cage white-hot with anger, swinging and screaming. Finally, he stops, and reaches to his side for a small black can, a stream of mace. Boltcutters waving at his side, the protestor stumbles away in search of boric acid.

Last fall, driven by a common anger at senseless environmental destruction, potential hazard, and the corporate refusal to listen to dissent, the Coalition for Direct Action at Seabrook (CDAS) called for the first occupation attempt on the site of the partially-built nuclear power station. Two thousand protesters arrived in rural New Hampshire, Oct. 6, 1979. The weekend, glorious in ways, should also have served as instruction in the tactics of protest. Three days of fence-cutting attempts failed utterly, mostly due to the density of state police and National Guardsmen.

But now, six months later, CDAS and its anti-nuclear adherents are preparing for another attempt, substantially the same as the first. The 62-page booklet calls again for "mass fence takedown along whole sections of the perimeter allowing large numbers of people to move onto the site simultaneously." Again there will be gasmasks and bolt cutters; grappling hooks are much discussed, and the organizers recommend bringing "plywood for shielding."

Last October, a certain thrill came with preparing for Seabrook--a new strategy, none of the lethargy and sameness of the marches and speeches, a chance to test oneself, a camping trip that maybe, just maybe, had a chance to win. But now, two weeks away from try number two, resignation replaces some of the tingle. Many who camped on Santasoucci's farm in the fall share the feeling--chances are, with all the grappling hooks and all the maps and walkie-talkies and gorp, demonstrators will never hold the reactor; if they do, it will most likely be at a high cost to the anti-nuclear movement and other campaigns for social change.

PREMISE--it is unlikely that Seabrook can be occupied, or, if occupied, held for a long stretch of time. In October, 2000 turned out to try; a substantially larger show of force seems unlikely this time. Police and National Guard from around New England met them in numbers large enough to present convincing force. The police arsenal included tear gas, high-pressure hoses, mace, and dogs. More organized, more ruthless, and better equipped even than the most Tom Swiftian of the anti-nukers, they held all the cards, and they only played a few. If the protestors had been more numerous or more successful at any point, police could easily have turned an organized rout into a total massacre.

Should some fortuitous combination of circumstances allow CDAS and company in to the reactor area, it is unlikely the siege would last long. How, short of guns and physical violence, would protesters maintain a presence if police wanted them out? Continuous arrests, continuous gassing, even a simple counter blockade to cut off food supplies--the prospects are not good. Napoleon Bonaparte, a man with credentials in the field, once remarked, "It is an approved maxim in war, never to do what the enemy wishes you to do, for this reason alone, that he desires it." The New Hampshire police are equipped to deal with boltcutters--they have better equipment, and they are prepared to use it.

But even if the tactics work May 24--even if protesters find themselves sitting in the core reactor playing cards come the 4th of July--they could damage not only the anti-nuclear movement but other causes like it. Despite page after page of rationalization, the plans do not add up to non-violence, at least not a type of non-violence capable of building support.

Gene Sharp, a fellow of the Center for International Affairs and author of the The Politics of Nonviolence, a 900-page history of the technique, sat down with 30 CDAS supporters a few weeks four-hour bull session that ranged from the mindlessly specific ("what about small boltcutters?") to the vaguely grand. Stricter non-violence was more effective, Sharp said, than the tactics planned for the 24th. Not more moral, or more Christian, or more in tune with nature, but more effective.

This is one case where slightly different meanings make a world of difference. Non-violent direct action is boltcutters and gas masks to CDAS. To Sharp, as to Mahatma Gandhi, it means total non-violence with a willingness to suffer. No masks of helmets, no running away when the police come for you: bodies, not boltcutters. It is not a very visible line, but it's easier to draw than it seems. The farther away from personal involvement--literal personal involvement--the less effective.

Surprise and shock is one explanation--police have a harder time beating a person who is standing his ground without resisting than they do a plywood-wielding opponent. Not that they won't beat and arrest and oppress; American history proves that they will. But it may be harder to maintain a campaign of terror for psychological reasons alone.

Individual unwillingness to keep on macing in the face of continued passive resistance is only half the gain; the same phenomenon occurs in society as a whole. The longer the fight goes on, the more public support for repressive policies will diminish. Remember the pictures of Black children in their Sunday best cowering in front of snarling dogs? So does everyone else--and those images and others like them eventually proved the downfall of Bull Connor and his ilk. Beating the non-violent is a horrible thing to do; people come to realize this, and if it takes months of getting beaten, then that is the price. The effect is muted, if not reversed when those on the receiving end are wearing helmets and gas masks and carrying boards.

Veterans of October 6th might argue that the axioms didn't hold that weekend; the press by and large was "good." The reason for that is simple, simple enough that Public Service Company will have remedied it this time around. In October, the photographers and reporters were on the protesters' side of the fence, swallowing gas and rubbing mace-reddened eyes. This time, they'll be allowed inside the cage, and the view may be more than a little different.

EVENTUALLY, Sharp says, passive resistance to violence will produce a "political jiu--jitsu effect." The force of the oppressor, turned back upon him, will prove his undoing, as third parties, revolted initially by the physical brutality of his campaign, gradually swing their support behind the oppressed: David Carradine meets the corporate state. The most mercenary aims may inspire a campaign of nonviolence. Invariably, however, others will respond from the heart and not the mind, just as many did after Kent State or Selma. In the end, the opponent may be converted to your point of view, decide that it is in his interest to accomodate it, or actually be coerced. In October, despite the valiant attempts of demonstrators to reason with construction workers and policemen, even such limited conversion was rare. Coercion seems unlikely in a system weighted as heavily as ours to the protection by force and law of property. But accomodation remains a possibility, as long as the New England anti-nuclear movement remains a credible political and economic force and an active nuisance and embarrassment to the Granite State.

In some ways, the call for strict non-violence and the CDAS philosophy begin from different bases. A stricter approach to non-violence has the goal of building a bigger movement through example. The handbook decries "past civil disobedience demonstrations organized by the anti-nuclear movement" for having as "their main purpose the raising of the nuclear issue in the minds of the public." On May 24th, the handbook continues, "our success will not be measured in terms of symbolic value, media impact, nor numbers of arrests. Our success will be apparent by the extent we can effectively, non-violently, and collectively block construction at Seabrook..." That goal selfishly risks the future of the anti-nuclear movement and other campaigns for change. Though the organizers express a commitment to building "a direct action movement against nuclear power and the social, economic and political systems that produce it," their tactics may serve to stifle that movement when the country needs it most. Americans have never responded well to those the powerful can label "terrorists"--the more "militant" the New Left and the civil rights movement became, the less they effected public sentiments and policy.

To advocate strict non-violence is not to demand, or even suggest, passivity. Sharp lists 198 historical methods of nonviolent policital activity, from making speeches to occupying nuclear power plants to skywriting messages. At Seabrook, next week, it may mean joining the blockade effort, an attempt to block traffic on and off the site. The handbook suggestions for tactics sound vaguely menacing here too, however--hints for success ripping up pavement, driving spikes into the road, and parking old cars in the street to block traffic. "We should make every effort to be creative and effective, while minimizing the use of our bodies." Blocking roads with bodies would be more effective in gathering sympathy and showing commitment. Trucks will get through after a day or two no matter what is done to the roads; a lasting effect on the minds of those who watch the nightly news is possible, however.

Fatalism comes naturally after failure; perhaps there is a real chance next week for a joyful, peaceful, effective fence-cutting operation. But the image of the fence, the cop on one side and the demonstrator on the other, both scared, both angry, fighting each other, returns. Those who opt for stricter nonviolence--those who climb the fence, without helmets and gas masks, those who lie in the road and wait to be dragged away--may pay a higher price. The protesters who trek to Seabrook next week must decide if victory is worth the cost.