The evening's facilitators, Anna and Greg, address the Occupy Boston General Assembly. November 26, 2011

Much has been made of the problems that plagued the larger Occupy encampments in their final days. A few weeks ago, I spoke with journalist Chris Hedges, a vocal supporter of the movement, during a visit to Occupy Harvard. He admitted that the New York camp in Zuccotti Park had become mired in problems: “They lost control of the camp in the last three weeks,” admitted Hedges, “when they went inside their own individual tents.”

These camps were created as examples of an alternative society that was wholly inclusive and equitable. They exercised a horizontal democracy in which everyone was represented and no one could accumulate power: consensus ruled.

It was beautiful idea: living, utopian communities existing in the nation’s public squares and parks for anyone to join. However, the scenario that played itself out over the past few months has revealed a reality far more complicated. These camps, which were open to everyone, became a place of refuge for those who had been turned away by virtually every other mainstream community that exists in our society today. They became places that would accept and care for the country’s homeless and those with serious substance abuse problems.

What does this mean? I was chatting with a man in the media tent at Occupy Boston, who said the New York Times had called him to ask one question, “How bad is your homeless problem?” It’s an example of the manner in which the media has trivialized the issue, treating it as a problem of bad optics for the movement, rather than as an indication of the dire need for inclusive communities like the ones Occupy created.

I arrived at Occupy Boston in late November, weeks before the December 10 eviction that cleared Dewey Square of the hundreds of tents that had been there since late September. I arrived after dark as the community gathered against a towering spotlit brick wall to hold their daily General Assembly. That night, a long, painful, and revealing conversation took place about the fate of one particularly difficult resident of the community, a man named Henry.

Henry was a much loved member of Occupy Boston with substance abuse and mental health issues that had become too unweildy for those in charge of safety to handle on their own.

A proposal was made to evict Henry from the camp.

The heated yet nuanced debate that ensued revealed a primal function of the Occupy camps: to vitalize conversation about societal issues by making those issues real, by occupying those conversations with real people and real problems, and then making real attempts to solve those problems and come up with answers.

I’ve been thinking about how best to explain what happened at the GA that night, and have decided that even though the transcript is long and at times tedious, it’s worth reading about what happened in the words of those who were there. After all, the process of the General Assembly itself is long and tedious, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.

I’ve edited this transcript considerably for length. I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on what should or could have been done about Henry.

The Occupy Boston General Assembly discusses a proposal to evict Henry from camp

Saturday November 26, 2011

John, 30s (member of Safety): I realized that to remove a person from camp, we need ten people must come to the safety meeting specifically to give their own reason for why they think this person should not be allowed in camp. Way more than ten people have come up for this individual and have advocated for his removal. It’s unfortunate. It breaks my heart. It really does. I abstained in the vote, but I allowed – I didn’t allow anything. The safety group proposed that we remove a certain individual, Henry. I don’t know his last name, but everybody knows him here. This is the only way that I know how. People have been asking, ‘How do we remove a person?’ I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and fighting with it internally. I don’t know how to do anything but suggest – and I can suggest time and time again – that people abstain from hanging out here or using drugs and alcohol on these premises. But, oh man. We’re only individuals, and when the power comes down to individuals to make that call, it puts too much strain on those individuals. I’ll speak to that on a personal level some other time, but the proposal on the table tonight, again, is a proposal to bar Henry from camp, for egregious abuse of the good neighbor policy.

I want to make a point of information, I feel as if any individual up for review should be able to speak their mind, so if Henry is in the camp, this is your chance now, [begins shouting very loudly into the mic] to come and speak and reason for your ability to be here. PLEASE HENRY, IF YOU ARE HERE, COME HERE. THANK YOU, FRIEND. [John is overcome and exits the GA]

Alex [clean-cut 25-year old man in red fleece]: You know, Safety as a working group and Mediation have done many things concerning people and individuals. We didn’t come to this point easily. We exhausted every single avenue that we have to deal with this issue and this problem. We’ve done it nicely, we’ve done it forcefully, we’ve done so many things that we really need the community backing in this situation. It’s not an easy moment for us. It’s not an easy moment for me personally. It took a lot to come to this point, and it became a community issue. I hope any working group who has a big problem that they try to tackle so many times that it hurts, that they bring it to the community to share.

Man, late 20s: I would just like to say that I’m against this, because I don’t think we should have people voting to kick people out.

Alex: For a good time now, weeks off and on, Henry has been a disturbance. He’s constantly drunk, and his tent is constantly loud and obnoxious and the centre of problems that are hard to deal with. He’s threatened people many times and has been involved in an altercation, a fist fight, and if you want to know the details of that altercation, we have a mediation log board and you can come and read it sometime.

We’ve dealt with it in several ways. We tried to get him the help he needs. Several people have done this, pursued avenues like detox, and things like that. He has been evicted from camp before, and returned without technically going through the proper channels. In all honesty, maybe it was foolish, but we allowed it, thinking that maybe we could get through to this individual. This whole community is a work in progress. Even just recently, me personally, I was meeting with him as often as I could, a couple of hours a day, sitting with him, talking about what we could do to make him better, how to be patient, helping him to understand that his actions have consequences.

I’m sad to say that in this case, for a lot of reasons, some of them for which I will not even put the blame on him, it did not work out. And at this point, we’re kind of at our wits end about it. That’s why we’re here.

I think Henry is a decent person, but it’s not a matter of choice. He doesn’t intentionally pose a threat to himself or others. But he does become a threat nonetheless. I have seen interventions, and other types of efforts to assist him. They do not have a lasting effect.

Devon, man in late 20s: I’m one of the medics. I’m EMT. There’s a high rate of mental illness, substance abuse, and alcoholism down here. With the cold weather coming, you’re going to run the risk of fatalities due to exposure and due to overconsumption of fun things, and we don’t want that. We’re trying to minimize that, and I’m trying to do my fucking best to minimize that, and if that entails removing someone, then that’s what it’s going to take. We need to try to keep this as focused as possible, and bad elements are just going to dilute and pollute this community. It just gives me more work to deal with, especially when someone runs the risk of seizures. I’ve already had to deal with them, and I’m well qualified to deal with them, but I’d rather not have to, and it paints this place in a bad light. So, if we can establish that someone is a health hazard to themselves, or just a hazard to this community, I’m all for it [eviction].

If this passes, I have contact points with substance abuse, with emergency shelters, with housing, so if that person decides, ‘Hey yeah, I want to get my shit together, and I need some help doing that,’ that big red cross down there is a great place to start. I will do everything in my power. I put five people in detox in the past three weeks. One of them within an hour of them coming and saying I think I need to go to detox. So I will do everything within my power to help this person, if they want the help. I’m not going to force it on them though, because I have people that really need it and want it.

Martin, man in 30s: I have been a volunteer with homeless issues for ten years. In addition, I worked at a homeless shelter full time for three years. I’m very aware of issues and how to deal with homelessness. I’m very concerned about Henry’s safety as well as the community’s. This community is extremely poorly equipped to handle these problems. It will only hurt both Henry and the community for us to try to do this. Finally, we can make a decision as a community to protect the community, and I think we should.

Wildabeast, man in 30s: It just seems to me, being an addict myself, and trying to recover myself, it seems almost as if it’s been predetermined that he needs to go. From the sounds of this, and nothing against Alex, I’m sure he has tried his best, but you know, being an alcoholic and an addict myself, at some point, there are certain people…For the community to just go about and exit him like this, is asking for trouble later. I understand you have a team ready to do this, but it will come to problems later. Like that gentleman said, Alex tried, that’s on Alex, and that’s great, nothing against him, but has he tried, or have I tried. John has tried, and I have broken up one little fight and I didn’t feel threatened. I don’t know. I just think it’s a really bad idea to kick somebody out. Because there really is no difference between those guys with their lights flashing in their vehicle over there and us here, if that’s how it’s going to be. Drinking is legal last time I checked, and even though I’m fully against it…I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m just saying, I don’t want the community to suffer later.

John: But there’s an obvious unsaid rule here: hold your substance or go. No willful open use of intoxicants in camp. It’s easy. It’s such a basic thing to ask to be respected, that it’s insulting that it taxes the time of those individuals who have sought to take care of this problem.

Older man: It undermines our purpose.

Anna: Point of information: when you say ‘has he tried, has he tried, has he tried with all due respect to Alex, we should all be trying,’ I agree we should all be trying. You should all be going to the safety meetings at 6:30 in the library tent and doing a safety shift and getting yourselves to be an integral part of the community in a place where we need help possibly the most. And to Community Wellness meetings, which meet daily. We simply do not have the human resources right now to deal with all of the people we have at camp who have a lot of problems. And these are people that we maybe love, like Henry. A lot of us have gotten kind of attached to the guy, but we still spend hours and hours and hours with him instead of doing the billion and a half other things that we have to do. And so, if you all would step up and do some volunteering to do some safety shifts, they’re 4 hours each, you get training, you help us out, John will teach you the ropes, Alex, a lot of people are here to do that. Please help out the community in this way, maybe we can start helping some of these people we’ve promised so much to and can’t deliver.

Woman: I have been working with Henry since the altercation last night, at approximately 5:15pm. More than 24 hours later, one broken contract, at least a dozen excuses, and two options for him to stay, including one of them a detox, one of them a late night shelter, it came to nothing. I gave so much, and it came to nothing. And Henry is not the only one in this part of Boston who has had these types of problems, since way before the occupation. I want to ask how much we should really care about even dealing with these problems when maybe instead it would be better to keep building. And maybe try a different sort of option such as exile by silence. That people stop speaking to these members.

John: Why aren’t the rules being followed? Why aren’t they? It’s bullshit. I see a lot of it. I thought the rule was, once you fuck up, you fuck up – that’s it. But I see people bending over backwards, trying to help. It’s not right, because if you bend over to help them, they turn around and say, ‘Fuck you, ha ha, I got one over on you, I’ll do it again.’

Alex: It’s hard to be one single person wanting to do this in a non-violent, peaceful way, to derail even a single violent person. It takes multiple people; it takes a community. If we’re going to strive to do this with non-violence and not swing punches, I can’t do it alone, John can’t do it alone. We really can’t do it just the two of us. Safety is not always in the position to be working on these things. Right now, it’s ten or so individuals facing multiple violent people who don’t know how to handle things in a peaceful way. We’ve had some successes and we’ve had many, many failures, and we’ve learned along the way, but that doesn’t change the fact that we need help.

Anna: Maybe it’s time to go to concerns and objections, and then we’ll go to statements of support? Again, the topic of conversation here is a proposal to ban an individual from camp named Henry who has been evicted twice before, but has a lot of connections to people in this camp, so it’s been a difficult issue for us to address. Strong concerns and objections to this proposal is what we’re taking now.

Joseph, man in 40s: No, it’s not one at a time. I’m an alcoholic and I’m a drug addict. So if that’s the case, you get me out. I could have drunk six bottles, in my tent. Come out drunk. You would tell me pack up, you’re out of here, but when someone else does it, you look the other way. Good for them, alright, oh well. But you’re picking on one.

John: We’re picking on one tonight. When really, really bad examples happen, this is going to happen. We’re not going to call the Brutes, we’re not getting zip ties. We’re going to do it like this.

Joseph: You get him out, he comes back in three days, does it again. So what are you solving? Nothing. You’re solving nothing. New York is a lot worse than here. I started in New York. We lost. I’m here to help this. But if you tear down this camp, that’s not strike one against me, that’s strike two. This is supposed to be a fucking community. Get together. Get your shit together. Clean up your garbage around your tent. That’s not my responsibility. Help each other. Get them out of camp if their drunk. I sat for the last three nights for 24 hours with three drunks. I got to know them. I seriously got to know them, because I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been to not one rehab, I’ve been to ten. Ten detoxes, ten buildings. They know me by name.

Greg, facilitator in 40s: Joseph, it seems like you have a strong concern about just evicting one person at this general assembly.

Man, 40s, to his friend: now you get a sense of how tedious this process is. The strife. The trials and tribulations.

Man, 20s: I just wanted to say that I don’t want Safety to take part in this decision, mainly because there’s a lot of people in Safety who drink. I’m not going to put out any names, but I don’t think Safety shouldn’t be a part of this because that makes them hypocrites, and we should be telling them to leave as well. Because they also keep people up by playing jump rope out here at 1am and just being stupid. And the other thing I wanted to say is that, should we actually kick out this person because he’s become a problem for the camp, or should we all just step up and try to take care of him? There are tons of people at this camp. I’m sure we could do it if we all agreed to help out.

Martin: We don’t have the clinical training.

Man, 20s: I’m not sure clinical training is necessary. Has it been necessary?

Martin: It is. It is necessary.

Woman, 20s: I have a concern that a member of this community is being excluded without having the opportunity to speak and defend themselves, although I acknowledge the individual may be avoiding the process for exactly this reason. Thank you.

Man, 40s: My friends, I would like to remind everybody that we don’t have a permit. We are guests technically of the city of Boston. This is public land, and I think it’s a disaster if this group decides to evict somebody. As much as I think in my heart that he doesn’t belong here and that we may be pushing him further along the line of his problems, it would look so bad, we would become a parody of ourselves if we decide to evict somebody. That’s it.

Woman, 30s: I’ve already introduced myself as an outsider, but I’ve been listening you today and I’ve been following what’s been going on here from my bedroom [on the web]. As someone who spends most of their time watching this from their bedroom, I look to you to represent this movement. And I think the focus of this movement is being taken away from the issues when you have to focus your attention, so much of your attention, on something that should maybe be for a rehab. This isn’t a rehab, right? This is not a party. Not to me anyway, and not to the people who are looking to you to represent what this movement is. I think if someone isn’t doing what they’re supposed to do here, which is represent the movement towards a better society, then I don’t think it’s right to focus on the symptom. I think alcohol and drug abuse and this bad behavior that this person has displayed are the things that we’re trying to change about society. I think it’s not so effective to focus on curing this one little symptom, as it is to focus on the cause, and curing the cause of the disease that’s causing these symptoms. You see what I’m saying? If you have to get someone to leave, that’s what you’ve got to do, to keep things moving forward.

Sherry, 30s: I live here. I know a little bit about Henry, and I’m sad to think that we have to evict him. As a homeless individual, I can tell you that it’s a societal issue here. We’re confronted with an issue that we all are familiar with, but not everyone has been confronted with it in such a close proximity before, and we’re dealing with it in a way that shows the failure of the outside society, by not helping individuals. Getting into detox is great, but you know what? They can just sign themselves out when they feel better. They’re just in denial of their problem. That is a failure to figure out how to help somebody when they can probably harm themselves and harm others. It contributes to the homelessness of this country, to substance abuse and diseases. And there is a root cause to everyone who has a substance abuse problem. If we’re just going to focus on the one person, we also have to look in the mirror and make sure that we’re not doing something to ourselves and the people that we love that’s just as harmful. I do think that we have this Good Neighbor rule and guidelines for a reason, and if we’re going to have Henry leave, then there are a lot of other people that need to go out the door with him. Because there are a lot of people in this camp that are abusing substances and abusive towards other campers, disrespecting the whole process here and what we’re trying to do, that need to leave. We have to think about what this means if we make Henry leave. Other people here need to think about how they act here.

Henry, 30s [arrives at GA to speak to his eviction]: You don’t even know. You feel strongly, but you don’t live it, you ain’t been here. Yes, I’m an alcoholic, I’m sorry. I do have mental problems. But do I deserve to be kicked out of here because of my mental disabilities? I mean, there’s other means of helping me out, better than kicking me out on the street.

Woman, 30s: I don’t know Henry, but I’ve been listening to people’s comments. It sounds like there’s a lot of people that like you, but it takes so much time to keep people safe – emotionally safe, physically safe – and while you have good intentions now, you’ve been given lots and lots of help and understanding here, but there’s been many times you’ve threatened their security. So it’s not that they don’t like you, but the way you act…

Henry: Don’t give up on a person that needs help. My name is Henry. I know you guys are upset with me, I know you guys are really pissed off. Half these people I don’t even know, and you know what? I fucked up. Forgive and forget and press on to the next day.

____________________

The proposal was tabled for further discussion at a later date. When I left Boston, Henry was still living at the camp.

I recently discussed Occupy Wall Street and my experiences travelling across the United States visiting camps and activists with the Canadian radio show Public Eye. I spoke with political columnist Sean Holman, and our chat was broadcast on Victoria’s CFAX 1070. To listen to our conversation, click here.

Protester Rey Ramirez holds a sign at the Occupy ICE rally in Los Angeles. Thursday, December 15, 2011.

“Aqui Estamos,

Y no, nos vamos,

Y si nos hechan,

Nos regresamos.”

“We’re here, we’re not leaving, and if we do, we’ll be back.” It was a phrase chanted constantly and passionately by the 2000 citizens who marched on the Los Angeles Federal Building this past Thursday as part of Occupy ICE. They gathered to protest U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, whose policies marchers say split up immigrant families and keep undocumented workers living in fear.

Outreach from the Occupy movement to the immigrant population was seen across the nation this past weekend. “Immigrants Occupy” marches took place yesterday in New York, and there have been rallies over the past few days in support of immigration reform in Orange County, San Francisco, San Diego and Portland, Oregon.

The Occupy ICE march reaches the Los Angeles Federal Buildings.

Undocumented workers are without a doubt a part of the 99 percent, and there are many individuals without legal status in the U.S. that refrain from actively participating in these marches and protests for fear of legal repercussions.

“I know for a fact there are undocumented workers that are not here today because they’re afraid of ICE and being deported,” said protester Rey Ramirez, who is also involved in Occupy Clairmont.   “These people are a part of the 99 percent and are even more taken advantage of than most: they are living in fear.”

Ruth, 29, is a member of the SCIU union and is a long-term care worker. Her brother-in-law was deported to Mexico two years ago, and she now takes care of her sister and niece. “We’re fighting for immigrant rights,” said Ruth. “I’m an American citizen, and we’re here to make a difference.”

Ruth, centre, with two friends.

As has been stated ad nauseam, this is a diverse movement with diverse goals, and, as winter wears on and public interest wanes, it is movement that could clearly benefit from a surge in numbers. Reaching out to the 12 to 20 million undocumented workers in the U.S. who likely strongly identify with many of Occupy’s goals could be a wise move.

Yet this march mirrors a larger trend within the movement: the cooption of smaller splinter groups with specific demands that orchestrate individual direct actions under the umbrella of Occupy. This march was far more organized than any I’ve seen so far, likely due to the support provided by those well practiced in direct action – trade unions like the SEIU United Services Workers West, and social justice organizations like ANSWER, an antiwar and racism coalition. The press release distributed at the march highlighting its agenda was on SEIU letterhead, and both organizations regularly champion the immigration reform issues being addressed.

A protester shouts in Spanish into a bullhorn at the Occupy ICE rally.

Occupy’s new focus on diverse direct actions was born of necessity. The camps, when they existed, provided a focal point and home base from which to grow and disseminate ideologies. They also provided a clearer structure, and were a novel way of challenging authority that eventually resulted in both political and public attention. They also provoked dramatic police action, a narrative of the movement that, for better or worse, has been followed more closely than anything else that has happened within Occupy so far.

Now those camps are mostly gone, and in their place these smaller groups are continuing to champion individual causes. But while people marching in the streets for immigration reform is a valid and important action, it is something the media and the public have seen before. And while those marching on Thursday drew a strong connection between Occupy’s stated goal of ending the greed and corruption of the 1% –  that ICE serves the desires of the corporate 1% by union busting, for example – it may be more difficult for the general public to make that connection.

Specific interest groups performing actions like the march this past Thursday likely aren’t hurting Occupy, but they’ll only contribute to the growth of the movement if they eventually find a way to come together and speak with one voice.

What now? New York has been leading the amorphous, headless beast that is Occupy Wall Street since day one back on September 17, and stalwart occupiers across the nation – now mostly evicted from their tent cities – are turning to the former residents of Zuccotti Park for guidance on what comes next.

This past Friday evening in Times Square provided a glimpse of the shape the OWS of the future will take. At 6pm, in front of the tourist-packed bleachers beneath the unmistakable shimmering Coke sign, a small gathering of boisterous activists stood in a circle. An OWS regular in Lennon-esque sunglasses directed the group in occupy-themed protest songs, flanked by a ring of media that came close to outnumbering them. The humble singalong marked the beginning of Occupy Broadway – a 24-hour performance by bands, theatre and dance companies, puppet troupes and more. The actual performances took place in the privately owned public Paramount Plaza at 1633 Broadway at 50^th, blocks from Times Square and the Rude Mechanical Orchestra kicked off the boisterous proceedings, which occurred with limited interference from the NYPD.

It felt like a party, but with a purpose – to take control of the symbolic centre of the city, a core that has been all but completely coopted by corporate interests. Reverend Billy of the Church of Life After Shopping offered up a typically lively sermon that tidily summed up how those in the crowd view Broadway’s metamorphosis since the ‘90s: “Rudolph Guiliani and Mickey Mouse and the New York Times started arresting the interesting people on our sidewalks here,” shouted Billy through a comically large white megaphone. “The people with uncertain hygiene, the people who thought they were Jimi Hendrix, the Shakespearean monologists with no apparent audience. We love those people…at one time this was an international commons. There were 315 original dramas every season. Now, it’s a Republican theme park. Until today.”

Reverend Billy and his ludicrous megaphone

There is a shift occurring, and though it was forced upon the movement by police actions, it is a necessary shift – from round-the-clock occupation of physical space, to an ongoing series of direct actions that aim at outreach and “reclaiming space.”

A gathering on Saturday morning in Zuccotti Park was also indicative of how OWS plans to grow the movement in the coming months. Many of the city’s religious leaders gathered with occupiers to make an impassioned plea to the heads of churches and places of worship that have yet to open their doors to the movement to do so. “The Occupy is the force that will revitalize traditional Christianity in the United States, or signal its moral, social and political irrelevancy” said journalist Chris Hedges, addressing the crowd. The gathering also celebrated the launch of Tidal, a self-published journal containing essays by intellectuals and occupiers, what the editors described as “a space for our voices to be heard.” On the back of the program for the day’s speakers – which included journalist Chris Hedges and Bishop George Packard – was yet another global call to action, phrased thusly: “Proposed National Call to Re-Occupy: December 17 we call on the displaced occupations across the nation to re-occupy outdoor spaces…we will take space and celebrate victory in our new occupations.”

Chris Hedges chats with an occupier in Zuccotti Park. December 2, 2011.

The intentional communities that were the tent cities were a powerful first step, a place where the process of horizontal democracy that in many ways defines the movement could be developed, and where people ready and willing to work for change could find each other. Yet as time has passed, managing the ongoing logistical problems within these communities – violence, substance abuse, cooption by those in desperate need of social services – was consuming so much time and energy that the broader purpose of the gathering was being forced to the side (at least in the camps I’ve visited).

As the heart of OWS moves from city parks to focused indoor working groups planning purposeful actions, those who have been fiercely committed to the ideological goals of OWS have the opportunity to shift their focus from the day-to-day logistics of running the camps to spreading OWS’s message of economic equality past the metal barriers that line Zuccotti Park, to the rest of the 99 percent.

As I listened to impassioned speeches by inspired activists, it was hard not to notice that the numbers were small. Two challenges now face those who now steer OWS: maintaining momentum in the absence of the 24-hour media coverage that constant police surveillance brings, and growing their numbers by finding a way to appeal to more mainstream demographics. Looking around Zuccotti at the couple hundred people huddled in the cold, was a little discouraging, but listening to them speak was not. One protester, 25-year-old Zachary Kamel, was particularly inspiring. Here’s what he had to say:

Occupy Harvard, which set up a few dozen matching tents in Harvard Yard almost three weeks ago, has been greeted by many with a healthy dose of skepticism. After all, what do these few privileged students have to complain about? Lynn O’Shaughnessy of CBS’s MoneyWatch remarked that: “It certainly is ironic that the Occupy movement has reached Harvard, considering that this is the school that produces many of the nation’s one percenters. And that’s never going to change.” In his November 20 column for The Daily Beast, Lee Siegel describes the encampment thusly: “No telling what these bold protests will lead to. More electives in post-feminist, pre-capitalist, hegemonic, Third World revolution. Longer master’s teas. More squash courts at the Harvard Club.”

It’s accurate that many of the more pointed demands made by the camp—increased custodial salaries, opening the currently locked Harvard Yard encampment to the public—pale in comparison to the deeply troubling issues facing civic occupations and the occupations of public universities like UC Davis. Harvard students are well taken care of by a $32 billion endowment fund—crippling student debt is not a major issue here, and it’s safe to say that few of these students will ever be among the 46 million Americans currently living below the poverty line.

So is Occupy Harvard relevant? Chris Hedges certainly thinks so. The Pulitzer Prize-winning author of American Fascists and Death of the Liberal Class has been a leading intellectual voice of support for Occupy Wall Street, and is so convinced of Occupy Harvard’s vital importance to the movement that he first spoke to the camp last night, and then embedded with them in Harvard Yard, which has been locked to non-Harvard cardholders since November 10.

In this video and the two that follow, Hedges carefully outlines the special role Harvard has the opportunity to play in this movement.

A 2007 survey in Harvard’s campus newspaper found that 47 percent of Harvard seniors planned to go into financial consulting. By fostering an academic culture that produces many of the very Wall Street executives responsible for the policies that precipitated the economic meltdown, Hedges argues Harvard is itself implicit in the vast economic inequalities that currently plague America. He laments what he describes as the hollowing out of an institution that once celebrate a liberal arts education, but now teaches students how to earn, rather than how to think.

Hedges supports this occupation because unlike others, Occupy Harvard participants have access to the very individuals often named as directly responsible for the economic inequalities the occupy movement addresses. Notable names on that list include former director of the National Economic Council Larry Summers, former United States Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin, and George W. Bush’s chairman of the Council of Economic Advisors N. Gregory Mankiw (On November 2, 70 members of Occupy Harvard staged a much-publicized walk-out of his Economics 10 class). Summers and Mankiw teach at Harvard today; Rubin sits on its executive board.

Says Hedges: “This movement is important not because of its size, but because it is run by people within the institution who have access to these figures, and [can] begin to call them to account, and that’s extremely important for those of us who don’t carry Harvard ID cards.”

Below are part 2 and 3 of Hedges’ speech, in which he takes questions from students.

Eric Richardson, Zuccotti Park, November 16, 2011.

“This is my job: to make sure that when people come here, they achieve some form of clarity.”

Eric Richardson is a dedicated elocutionist for the Occupy Wall Street Movement. Standing in a dripping wet Zuccotti Park the day after the now famous Bloomberg eviction, Richardson keeps his stylish leather jacket dry beneath a thin layer of clear plastic. His voice is hoarse from overuse, but that doesn’t keep him from actively searching out media and visitors and delivering long answers to pointed questions, answers rich with abstract metaphors about Occupy Wall Street and its future.

“We still have our place,” says Richardson of the eviction. “It has not been diminished – it has only increased. They removed the tents, but in place of the tents, came the people.” He asks if I’ve seen a copy of that day’s New York Times, then describes the photo on the cover; an image of Zuccotti Park, filled front to back with people, or as Richardson describes it: “People standing from the very front row to the very back, the place being completely occupied, with bodies. Not tents or tarps – humans.”

Richardson has the air of preacher utterly assured of the existence of god. And like most preachers, his words are practiced: “This is a human struggle,” he says, raising his face to look at the brightly yellowing leaves overhead. “It’s more than a fiscal struggle or a political struggle, it is a human struggle against tyranny.”

Richardson was inspired to join the movement after following it in the newspapers. He was working two jobs at the time, primarily as a promotion coordinator for the Bronx landmark paradise theatre, a 5000-person concert venue. After visiting the park, Richardson noticed what he describes as a need for people “who communicate easily.”  Richardson considers himself one of these people, and decided to put his skills to use by moving into the camp and spreading its gospel. He’d been living here for a month when he was evicted on November 15.

Serving as a voice of a leaderless movement lacking a concrete set of demands requires a certain amount of ambiguity, and Richardson is excellent at describing in generalities the sentiments of OWS:

“This place, it cannot be undone: it is now the classroom for liberty. You want to learn about liberty? You have to come see us. Because you don’t know what liberty is. You never had it. You might have achieved financial freedom, which means you can make certain purchases, or you have a certain amount of credit score, but that does not determine whether or not you are truly free.”

Or:

“This is a battle of beautiful chaos, of creative geniuses, of fools, of ludicrous demands. If you ask some of these people what their demands are, they’re going to say things no one will ever be able to provide, and that’s because there’s no compromise. Everyone must be made whole.”

Richardson maintains that it is too early to move beyond these generalizations; the movement is still in its infancy and needs time to develop and become organized before it can take on the established order of things in a cohesive and strategized way. His sentiment is echoed by former New York Times stringer and OWS supporter Natasha Lennard, who, in a Salon editorial about why she can no longer remain an objective reporter, expressed the overarching theme of OWS as “FUCK THIS SHIT,” a broad expression of discontent that a wide array of Americans can likely get on board with.

Richardson also fears strict demands will be used against the movement: “A stringent list of demands only gives them cannon fodder,” he says, a look of slight annoyance flashing across his face as I asked him what exactly OWS wants. “These are the most organized people in the world. Look at the latest bill you got in the mail – they don’t miss a thing. To approach this from the standpoint that you’re going to be more organized than them, or that you’re going to have more contingency plans than them, or provide more logistics than them, you’ve already lost that battle.”

Richardson – like most of the media-friendly OWS regulars – seems to ascribe to the theory that keeping things extremely general will make the movement attractive to the widest possible demographic. This air of inclusiveness will help build the public support needed to arm the movement for real beauracratic battles down the road.

In the meantime, Richardson expresses his presence thusly: “I’m here for the uplifting of humanity, aren’t you?”

At lunchtime on a drizzly November 17, New York Police clashed violently with Occupy Wall Street protesters in Zuccotti Park. One protester suffered a bloody head wound in the confrontation; an officer was reportedly stabbed in the hand. In every street or square where police and protesters met that day, shouts of “You’re on the wrong side of history,” and “Shame!” could be heard.

Yet inside the warm, dry McDonalds just a half block west of the park on Broadway at that exact moment, protesters and police were getting along swimmingly. They stood in line together, respectfully waiting their turn to order Big Macs and McChicken sandwiches before saying “excuse me” as they made their way to chow down on their salty purchases side-by-side at plastic tables.

Perhaps this exhibition of tolerance reveals how tidily protesters and police slip into their expected roles once “the whole world is watching,” and then back out of them once the whole world is not. On the streets during a day of protest, the expectation of animosity breeds confrontation.  But McDonalds is apparently no place for social unrest, unless it is the actual McDonalds being protested, and on this day, it was not (there are apparently more than a few OWS protesters who see no hypocrisy in decrying corporate power while at the same time patronizing McDonalds).

This behaviour also seems to reinforce the protesters’ constant chanted assertion that the police are just as much a part of the 99% as anyone else. As long as the police aren’t taking away their right to assemble, there’s no need for animosity.

Outside of McDonalds it’s a performance, and a necessary one, but one that ends when the players step off the stage and into the food court. This isn’t to say the performance isn’t real, but it’s fascinating to see how quickly the polarization can melt away with a simple change of venue and a growling stomach.

Two months ago on September 17, a few dozen people set up camp in Zuccotti Park in the heart of New York’s financial district to protest the ever-growing gap between rich and poor in the United States and around the globe. And three days ago, in the early hours of November 15, several hundred people were evicted by the NYPD from what they considered to be their tent and tarp homes.

New York City newspapers, November 16 2011.

The eviction came just two days before OWS’s November 17 two-month anniversary and a day of action that promised to “shut down Wall Street,” “occupy the subways” and “take the square.” Yet on the eve of the anniversary, the mood among the scant crowd milling about a rain-drenched Zuccotti Park seemed grim. A question hung in the air: would anyone show up to the party, now that the symbolic heart of the movement was without a home?

It started early. Protesters had broadcast their plan to delay the 8:30 a.m. opening bell of the New York Stock Exchange by preventing employees from getting to work. By 7:30 a.m., long rows of officers in black riot gear waited at the entrances to every narrow lower Manhattan avenue that leads to the NYSE.

NYPD officers guard access to the NYSE.

The streets were quiet: with your eyes closed, it could have been any other morning, except for the distant choppy sound of several NYPD helicopters hovering overhead.

NYPD helicopters above Wall Street.

At close to 8 a.m., protesters marched down Pine Street towards Nassau Street, where a barricade lined with dozens of officers had been erected to keep out protesters, while allowing those with Wall Street ID to pass.

Protesters march towards Wall Street.

The young crowd chanted and sang as they’d been doing for months – “We – are – the ninety-nine – percent!” – yet the mood was steely. This wasn’t a sanctioned march on Sunday afternoon; the stated intent was to disrupt the symbolic heart of the American economy, and the anticipation of conflict was palpable.

Protesters quickly flooded the intersection, trapping traffic and surrounding it. A girl near the police barricades used the human mic to instruct everyone to sit down, explaining it was a tactic of non-violent dissent used by past movements.

Protesters sit at the intersection of Pine Street and Nassau Street.

“Come up here for the soft block,” A young man shouted, naming the tactic of linking arms to prevent people from passing. “Don’t be afraid,” he yelled. “Remember why you are here.”

A protester uses the human mic to address the crowd.

It was 8:30a.m. An officer behind the barricade lifted a megaphone to his lips: “You must clear this intersection,” he warned. “Please get on the sidewalk,” Two officers took out a large box of Max-Cuffs, the plastic handcuffs used in mass arrests, and began assembling them.

The crowd remained.

The police entered the group of seated protesters, roughly hauling them up and pulling them behind the barricades, where they were cuffed. The press – which made up about a fifth of the crowd – pushed forward, shouting and jostling, and the entire group swelled towards the scuffling officers and protesters. Within minutes, about 20 people had been arrested, including Officer Ray Lewis, a former police captain from Philadelphia in full uniform.

The NYPD moves into the crowd near Wall Street.

As the police cleared the street and traffic began to move again, a young woman ran up. “I have it on good authority that we delayed the opening of the NYSE!” She exclaimed to cheers from those who remained.

Officers clear the intersection at Pine and Nassau.

***

Back at a barricade-enclosed and police-lined Zuccotti Park, protesters regrouped to plan their next action.

Zuccotti Park.

The OWS movement is fiercely committed to being a horizontal, leaderless society where every voice is heard. It’s a lofty ideal that often makes decision-making incredibly cumbersome, as was evidenced as the group debated whether to remain in the square, or march again on Wall Street.

The human mic in Zuccotti Park.

Protesters debate their next actions in Zuccotti Park.

After spending a good ten minutes deciding how many generations of the human mic to use, and whether or not to record a list of speakers (“taking stack”), one group marched back to Wall Street. As they exited, a young male protester reminded them: “This is a non-violent movement. We have the support of the American people. Let’s keep it that way.” Many more remained, eating a lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and pizza and chatting with one other, as they’d been doing for months.

***

By 4 p.m., thousands of students had gathered at Union Square to protest tuition hikes and student debt. Once assembled, they began the march to Foley Square to join the numerous labour groups also headed there.

Union Square.

“I think it’s embarrassing,” said one woman watching the stream of protesters pass by as she stood outside the clothing store where she worked. There are many New Yorkers – and much media coverage would say most New Yorkers – that share her opinion. “They’ve been sitting in that park doing nothing for months, while the rest of us are working, and now they’re disrupting our lives.”

It’s an opinion shared by many, but not all. Numerous drivers caught in the onslaught of protesters honked their horns, or extended their arms for a barrage high fives. “Solidarity!” Yelled a middle-aged man in a white car as he waited for the sea of bodies to pass.

Drivers high-five passing protesters.

New Yorkers came out of their shops and marveled at the youthful crowd running by. Some shook their heads in irritation, some made the peace sign, many just stared. Pretty much everyone held up a smartphone.

A man watches protesters pass from inside a Chase bank.

This particular day of action has been contentious among locals, regardless of their politics. Before November 17, OWS was contained to a tiny park. It was relatively easy to ignore. But today, OWS disrupted the delicate flow of daily life in New York City. Though it was intended as a wake-up call to jolt citizenry into awareness of the vast number of causes championed by the movement, the risk of alienating a population that perhaps does not want to be awakened was great.

But as the crowd poured into Foley Square from all four corners, it was hard not to feel a part of a vast, well-supported, diverse populist movement. All ages and many races were represented, and well represented: an estimate overheard on a police radio put the crowd at 32,000.

Foley Square.

Would the crowd have been so many had the police not evicted the residents of Zuccotti Park? Or had they not arrested those marching on Wall Street earlier in the day? Police conflict seems a necessary component of the Occupy movement. It draws cameras, eyeballs, and – provided the protesters are not the aggressors – terrible optics for the NYPD, who, for many, have come to represent the enemy by protecting people and policies protesters say no longer represent the public interest.

As the crowd, thousands strong, moved from Foley Square to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, police and protesters took a less combative approach than on Wall Street that morning – protesters stayed on the sidewalk, and officers silently made sure they stayed there.

A sign warns protesters at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge.

A sign warns protesters at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge.

It was a rough day to be a New York cop: “You’re on the wrong side of history,” was a ubiquitous taunt, along with much worse.

A protester holds a sign near the Brooklyn Bridge.

But on the Brooklyn Bridge there were no officers, and as each pack of slow-moving marchers reached the crest of the bridge, they turned to face Manhattan, where on the towering blank face of the Verizon Building, the words “WE ARE WINNING” were projected in white light letters, metres high. Cars driving by on the roadway below honked and cheered, pumping their fists as the words changed:

Words projected on the Manhattan Verizon building.

Words projected on the Manhattan Verizon building.

Words projected on the Manhattan Verizon building.

As the crowd spilled off the bridge and into Brooklyn and began to celebrate, it was clear that those involved felt November 17 was a victory. The question now is whether they can spin the momentum of a single day into a sustained movement in the absence of a space to occupy.

A protester exits the Brooklyn Bridge holding a sign.

Wednesday November 16, 2011, noon.

It’s raining in Zuccotti Park. A hundred or so steadfast protesters and a fleet of officers in florescent green vests mill about the now spotless stone ground that two days ago was nearly invisible beneath a tarps, tents, and signs.

By now it’s old news that in the early hours of Tuesday morning, that police in riot gear moved in and cleared the Occupy Wall Street encampment two days before its two month anniversary.

The eviction has been relatively poorly documented by the media for a number of reasons, one likely being that reporters were allegedly restrained from accompanying the police as they moved to empty the square. Several reporters that did remain to observe the eviction were arrested.

A day and a half later, there are still people here, but not many. And compared to a busy Sunday a month ago, the crowd feels more fringy, more hardcore, perhaps a little less middle of the road.

People are visibly tired. A man occupying from Honolulu named Fredrick described being evicted from the park a day ago, at times losing his words, and then admitting he’d only had one or two hours of sleep a night for the past couple weeks. “I was being interviewed by CNN yesterday, and I really don’t know what I said, I’m so tired,” he said, a salvaged and taped together umbrella in one hand and a piece of cheese pizza – courtesy of OWS – in the other.

The movement, at least here in New York, is at a crossroads. And New York is the obvious epicenter of this now global call to action.

Can a movement based on occupation sustain its momentum without a consistent space to occupy? Much of the power of Occupy has come not from clear demands, or even commanding numbers, but from the simple, constant, undeniable presence of those involved. In the absence of a physical occupation, a new focal point needs to emerge.

Tomorrow is a planned day of action, which has been outlined as follows on the OWS website: 7am, shut down Wall Street before trading starts, 3pm, occupy the subway, 5pm, occupy the Brooklyn Bridge.

While maintaining public awareness of the movement is imperative if it is to maintain its momentum, it also seems like disrupting the delicate flow of New York City on a weekday has the potential to win Occupy more enemies than followers among the 99%.

Tomorrow could be a big day: it may reveal whether the public is ready for this whole Occupy thing to just go away, or if – as the protesters are hoping – the 99% stands behind them.

I spoke with a lot of people about the matters outlined above at the now extremely clean Zuccotti Square today. Their thoughts and stories will be posted here this weekend. In the meantime, here are their faces.