On Saturday, I headed to downtown Los Angeles for a march to “stop the U.S.-Israeli war” and “defend Palestine and Lebanon,” an event spearheaded by the ANSWER (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism) coalition and sponsored by several Muslim groups and others including the International Action Center (the lair of Ramsey Clark, a.k.a. Saddam’s lawyer). I thought it might be a fun event to crash; and besides, who could miss the billed entertainment — Palestinian hip-hop group The Philistines?
The rally location (near the Federal building) was set up with a handful of card tables offering the latest and greatest in leftist literature, one blaring CD sermons of Bob Avakian, chairman of the Revolutionary Communist Party, USA. I asked the salesman what kind of crowd he expected at the booth (and how Muslims would respond to an atheist political philosophy); he expressed optimism that the “masses” would show up to rally for their Mideast brothers in arms.
The “masses,” he explained, were people in Watts who really sympathized with the Palestinians. I think the Watts masses were probably home next to their barbecues on that sunny Saturday afternoon, as the marchers were overwhelmingly Arab or suburban “progressives” eager to earn their Sheehan points. Maybe the “masses” couldn’t fork out ten bucks just to park.
But being sensitive, open-minded, and obviously bored with life, I listened to a 15-minute lecture on the synthesis of Marxism into today’s society, detailing the many answers ol’ Karl had for every question in life and other things I can’t remember because I was thinking about the barbecue I’d be enjoying later. Two guys tried to sell me Avakian’s memoirs for $25 — also known as the price of two Grey Goose cosmos — promising it was the type of book you’d curl up with in bed (in a communal dorm, no doubt). Items at all of the booths were available for a “donation,” because heaven forbid they look like they’re trying to swing a profit.
This was the moment to watch them squirm. “No thanks,” I said, smiling. “I’m a columnist and have promo books up to here that I haven’t gotten around to.”
Their ears perked and they asked my name; they claimed they recognized me but obviously not enough for their conserva-detectors to go code red. Perhaps not washing my hair that morning allowed me to blend in well at the uber-leftist event.
I gestured to the book table populated by Noam Chomsky and friends. “I guess you don’t carry any Rich Lowry, huh?”
One of the book sellers looked confused. “Who?”
He also drew a blank at a mention of National Review, but stressed that he habitually reached out to divergent viewpoints in order to challenge them effectively. Visions of hiding under a boulder sprang to mind.
As I walked off, the book seller’s partner caught up with me and asked if I might be willing to review the Avakian book (“A stunning work of fiction!”). He asked if he could e-mail me some info; I told him that he could contact me through my Daily News home page. And as I left him, I thought of the heart attack he would have when he logged on and saw some of my recent column headlines: “Palestinians asking for war”; “Vatican heaping blame on Israel counterproductive”; “May Day protests give cause to yell ‘Mayday!’“
If there’s one constant about anti-war protests, it’s that they never, ever stay on topic. The left-wing protest is an opportunity for representatives of every leftist cause to come out of the woodwork and take advantage of the gathering, whether it’s to campaign against Bush, the Iraq war, capitalism, or, as I encountered with one book seller, against cars. “Cars and TV lead to an inner-city culture of violence,” he explained, his bike leaning against the wall.
At every stop I was tempted to lose myself in reckless abandon and just begin debating, but it was more fun to watch the hapless efforts to convert the random passer-by to leftist — or impossible to label — ideology.
Still, at times, the Bridget within couldn’t be repressed.
At a booth of the International Socialist Organization, I leafed through the standard anti-Israel propaganda and was about to walk away when I spotted a “Free Kevin Cooper” T-shirt for sale. Kevin Cooper, the new poster child for the Stanley “Tookie” Williams fan club, hacked a family to death in Chino Hills, California, in 1983. I asked the girl behind the table, who handed me a flier for an anti-Israel meeting this week at East Los Angeles College, why they were hawking Kevin Cooper merchandise.
“Because we support all human rights and the death penalty is inhumane,” she droned mechanically.
“But are you advocating freeing Kevin Cooper because you’re against the death penalty or because you think he didn’t do it?” (He did do it, by the way, but has a legion of “framed by racist cops” followers.)
“We’re the last civilized country — well, that’s debatable — to have the death penalty,” she responded. “Well, except China.” China as the world’s touchstone of civilization? China, who would mow down in cold blood protesters like her? Thank heavens I hadn’t eaten any lunch yet.
Socialist-girl invited me to sign up on their mailing list, which was empty. Filling in my name, occupation, and website, I figured she could have her own Maalox moment later.
In the thick of the protesters, getting whipped in the face by Palestinian flags and watched by Los Angeles police officers lining the route, I saw kids and seniors with PLO/Fatah kaffiyehs, a Che T-shirt proclaiming “Stop the war” (as if Che was a pacifist), and the standard Aztec dancers that show up at every manner of L.A. demonstration. “Bush and Blair, whaddya say, how many kids did you kill today?” many chanted.
When it comes to protest crashing, though, it’s all fun and games until someone makes your blood start to boil.
I had scarcely met up with the 1,000-strong march and begun mingling with its participants when cries of “Long live Hezbollah” rang out.
This, not surprisingly, was not a rally just to denounce Israel and the U.S., but to cheer on a terrorist group. One sign was topped with a Constitution-like “We the People”; underneath was written “Hezbollah forever.” Another read “Hezbollah, Hamas — People’s Resistance.” Hassan Nasrallah’s buttons would have burst with pride.
Nice to know all of these Americans turned out to cheer on the terrorist group responsible for the most deadly terrorist attack on Americans before 9/11. And it was nice to find out later that other journalists weren’t paying attention or have selective memory: I read all other news service reports on the protest afterward and saw no mention of the pro-Hezbollah bent, just heart-tugging tales of toddlers waving Lebanese flags and of ornery (“fringe,” as L.A.’s City News Service called them) Jewish counter-protesters.
You could say that the demonstration drew curious onlookers, but more were peeved drivers; in Los Angeles, you never win allies by obstructing traffic. But I think they must have made a huge impression on the residents who gave the march a second look: “Umm, what’s that flag they’re holding?” one man watching on from a nearby building stopped me to ask of the Lebanese-banner wielders. Fox News junkies they ain’t.
So while the Wedding Crashers got showered with champagne in their reception stunts, I felt more like I needed a shower after hanging with the pro-Hezbollah bunch.
But hey, I got the inside scoop on all the belated L.A. birthday bashes for Fidel Castro this week (hosted by the Party for Socialism and Liberation, the ANSWER coalition, etc.). Could my next challenge be Birthday Crasher?
– Bridget Johnson is a columnist at the Los Angeles Daily News. She blogs at GOP Vixen .