why we (should) march; amitav ghosh on delhi 1984

One of the reasons I got behind on my work last week was the two days half-spent at protests/rallies/etc., first the April 29 peace march, and the May Day immigrants' rights celebrations. I know many people--progressive people, people who'd agree with all the reasons I had for being out there protesting--who nonetheless would never set foot in a political demonstration themselves. In some cases, it's due to a sort of social discomfort with the 'culture' (for lack of a better word) of many progressive protests in recent years--i.e., sensitivity to the dirty-hippie slur, or a more deeply-felt dislike of "activist types"--in others, it's because of an intellectual objection to the oversimplification and messiness implied by basic-soundbite slogans and broad coalitions. Some people in the former group object because they see many current tactics as not just silly, but actively counterproductive: see this post, for example, which raises some good points about effective protests, though I don't agree with all of its conclusions. And I think the messiness may be an unavoidable result of the multiple and sometimes contradictory purposes of public demonstrations (to change policy of governments or organizations, to raise awareness, to convince the general public, to get media attention, to demonstrate solidarity, to create a historical record of opposition, to foster a sense of political community, to bolster spirits, etc.) Carnivalesque street-theater methods and funny signs help further some of these aims, and may hurt others.

I'm somewhat more sympathetic to those who feel uncomfortable with the lack of nuance in a street demonstration, or who dislike the idea of appearing with or under the umbrella of organizations they may find distasteful (the 'International ANSWER' problem, as a friend calls it). Certainly, the policy answers to both problems (the mess in Iraq, our sorry-ass excuse for an immigration system) are fiendishly complex, and of course I'm going to disagree, or at least be unsatisfied, with the positions of some of the people I'm marching alongside.

A passage from Amitav Ghosh's essay "The Ghosts of Mrs Gandhi" (in Incendiary Circumstances, which I've been reading) comes to mind. In the aftermath of the 1984 anti-Sikh riots in Delhi, Ghosh joined a small group of progressive activists who were gathering in the compound of a relief agency, preparing to protest the violence:

The group was pitifully small by the standards of a city where crowds of several hundred thousand were routinely mustered for political rallies. Nevertheless the members rose to their feet and began to march.

Years before, I had read a passage by V.S. Naipaul, which had stayed with me ever since. I have never been able to find it again, so this account is from memory. In his incomparable prose Naipaul describes a demonstration. He is in a hotel room, somewhere in Africa or South America; he looks down and see people marching past. To his surprise, the sight fills him with an obscure longing, a kind of melancholy, he is aware of a wish to go out, to join, to merge his concerns with theirs. Yet he knows he never will; it is simply not in his nature to join crowds.

[....]

I remembered the passage because I believed that I, too, was not a joiner, and in Naipaul's pitiless mirror I thought I had seen an aspect of myself rendered visible. Yet as this forlorn little group marched out of the shelter of the compound I did not hesitate for a moment: without a second thought, I joined.

At some point, it seems to me, the importance of a public show of dissent trumps all other concerns. I think it matters to make visible our objections to this administration's disastrous foreign policy, and to oppose what had become a widespread and viciously xenophobic attack on immigrants in general and Muslims and Latina/o people in particular. One need not support a simplistic solution to agree that a demonstration will send a general message--this war is wrong; we reject anti-immigrant hysteria--and choose to take part in sending it.

It is necessary and important to have debates and write letters and op-eds and policy briefs, and address real-world complexities. But we should march, too.