In many ways the protest had been a great success. The next day in the media every news show aired pundits arguing the pros and cons of the government’s position on everything from economic policy to climate change. But most divisive of all was the police’s handling of the march. Pro-government supporters lauded the decision to maintain law and order while the opposition was declaring it an abuse of power and was calling on people to march to the police station. Either way the public was engaged. Everyone had an opinion, it was impossible to remain neutral. You’ve never been shy about your opinions though. You’re going to be counted amongst the numbers of people descending upon police headquarters.
Considering the protest is almost completely unplanned a good number of people have shown up. About a thousand protesters and media personnel have gathered at the station, but the atmosphere is very different from the day before. Yesterday the people’s voice of dissent had been loud and boisterous, yet cheerful and positive. Today things are much more personal, much more raw. Many people here have friends and family who were arrested yesterday, most of whom are still in jail right now. Gone are the colourful banners and creative chants, replaced with cardboard signs hastily scrawled with magic marker. People shout angry taunts at the police that stand above the crowd like stone gargoyles, surveying the scene. Their very presence is a symbol of state power and oppression.
A speaker from the self-described solidarity collective is at the mic as you arrive, carefully selecting their words.
“Yesterday we were attacked in the streets by the very people sworn to protect us. But we will not be intimidated! We will not let this thuggery break our determination to fight for justice. To the people who are locked up right now, whether you can hear me or not: We are still fighting for you. That is why, we are calling for people to join us as we lock down the streets surrounding the detention center. We’re going to put the whole system under arrest! And we not going to back down until ALL of the political prisoners have been released! Thank you all for being here today. Please, stand in solidarity with your brothers and sisters, stand alongside the solidarity collective. The people, united will never be defeated!”
There is enthusiastic applause from about half the crowd and members of the collective start singing “solidarity forever”. Someone slips you a photocopied piece of paper with the lyrics. On the back is a picture of an open palm and a clenched fist, below is an address and the slogan “Our solidarity with each other is our greatest defence.”
The next person to address the crowd is the local representative for the Social Democrat party.
“As your representative in parliament, it is my honour and privilege to serve this community. Yesterday was indeed a dark day for our city. But let us not forget the reasons that have brought us all together: This government’s profit before people policies, their lack of action on the environment. Those are the reasons that we took to the streets yesterday, and it would be a disrespect to those in jail right now to let this become a discussion about law and order---”
At that moment the unmistakable sound of breaking glass cuts through the air as the front window of the police station is smashed into pieces and falls to the ground. A small group of masked punks begin chanting:
“NO JAILS, NO BORDERS! FUCK LAW AND ORDER!”
The crowd immediately erupts into chaos. Frightened people try to squeeze their way out as a crush of reporters and camera crew rush forward all vying for the best shot. You decide that the best thing to do is get the hell out, but the way is blocked by a hundred or so riot police that have appeared out of nowhere. Behind you the yelling and screaming intensifies and you hear the sound of more windows breaking, this time closer. You peer around to try and figure out what’s happening but you are knocked off balance, landing flat on the ground. You fight back a rising sense of panic and struggle for breath as someone steps on your back. Your hands are pulled behind you, locked in cuffs and you are dragged face first across the pavement.
“Get up!” somebody barks from above. It’s difficult to stand up in handcuffs but somehow you manage to regain your balance.
“Get in the back!” they yell as soon as you’ve found your feet.
You stand still for a moment stunned by your disbelief, but the intensity in their expression tells you that they’re completely serious. You stumble into the back of a waiting police van and the door is slammed shut behind you. It’s dark and cramped inside with about a dozen or so other prisoners all sitting across from each other on steel benches. There are no windows or doors and little light. Your head aches and you think you might be bleeding.
The rumbling sound of a diesel engine fills your ears and the vehicle lurches forward sending you tumbling into your neighbours’ lap. You’re unable to catch yourself with your hands cuffed behind you, and you land awkwardly face down in their groin. Embarrassed you apologize and they assure you it’s okay.
“How’s my face?” you ask.
“It’s bleeding pretty badly. But I don’t think you’ll need stitches.”
The vehicle turns, weaving its way through traffic and gradually gaining speed as you leave the city center. After some time you come to a stop and the engine is abruptly cut off. The doors at the rear swing open silhouetting the figure of an officer who orders,
“Everybody out!”
They march you through the loading bay of a warehouse to a folding table where you are ‘processed’, un-cuffed and given a prison number. All of your ‘personal effects’, including your shoes, are placed in a box and you are led barefoot to your chain link cell. It’s like a kennel inside, there are hundreds of these cells most of which are already full, the dank smell of sweat and urine is overwhelming. It would be a crime to keep animals under these conditions.
The lock clicks as the guards slam close the door. Anger swells up inside you and you feel like screaming but realise that it’s pointless. Your eyes follow them as they make their way along the cellblock, stuck is a trance of rage and sorrow. A short whistle snaps you back to reality. You look up to see a bright eyed youth beckoning you from the adjacent cell.
“Psst! Hey you! C’mere!” You cock your head up in their direction. “I’ve got a message for you.”
“A message?” you ask drawing closer.
“Yeah. From the other prisoners. You’ve got to repeat back everything to me the way I’ve said it. That way the message won’t get messed up as it gets passed from person to person.”
“Ok,” you agree, slightly puzzled. What on earth could this be all about?
“Some of the people who’ve been here since yesterday say we shouldn’t co-operate with the police. I mean, not at all. Don’t even give them your name if you haven’t already. It’s called prisoner solidarity.”
You repeat the message back then ask “Isn’t that against the law?”
“Whatever, this whole damn thing is against the law. They can’t abuse our civil liberties like this. At least this way we get to retain a little bit of control over our situation. I mean our identities! It’s who we are. We’ve got to play with what we’ve been dealt, gain the upper hand somehow.”
“Ok but what’s in it for me? Why shouldn’t I co-operate? I haven’t done anything wrong. Why should I stick out my neck?”
“I dare you to ask one of those guards what their name is! You’ll see. They’re not playing by the rules. It’s not an even playing field. They think they can do whatever they want to us, and we’ll just follow along.”
“I see your point. But we’ve got enough problems as it is right now. How do we know this will work? They might just keep us in here even longer if we make trouble.”
“And if we just do as they say then they know they got away with abusing our rights and making illegal arrests. Think about this as the continuation of the protest.”
“I don`t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Of course, think it over. And make sure to pass the message on too! Remember there’s lots of us in here standing our grounds. And we’re gonna be standing right next to you if you chose to join us. So be strong, and stay safe.”
You say thanks and promise to keep the message going, then you begin to explain the idea to the other prisoners in your cell. Everybody has their concerns, of course, and some people are completely opposed to the idea. After a bit of debate the cell quickly becomes divided into two camps: one side blames the vandals for the situation, who having intentionally gone well beyond the bounds of legal protest, left the police with no other option but to move in. The other side blames the police for everything, and are righteously indignant that they had committed great violations of human rights in response to the relatively minor offence of property damage. To you these distinctions are of little relevance to the central question of what to do now that you’ve all been incarcerated. But before you are able to come to any kind of agreement two guards approach the cell.
“Any of you want to start co-operating? You can begin with your names.”