I'm riding an elevator in downtown Boston. There is a sign warning of travel restrictions during the last week of July. A woman gets on. We both stare ahead as per elevator etiquette. She reads the sign, raises an elegant hand and brushes the words gently. "Nothing's worth this ...," she sighs. I laugh sympathetically; she gets off at the next floor.
Yet nothing's more worth this, I think into the empty elevator.
I'm in Boston for the time being, visiting my parents and watching the city ready itself for the Democratic National Convention. Tom Ridge is reportedly in town, overseeing security arrangements. Roadblocks are going up over a thirty-mile radius, some subway stations will be closed, and "chem-packs" have been distributed to emergency workers. Fresh-faced policemen in crisp uniforms are everywhere, good-daying people, affecting an alert but casual stroll. It feels like the Fourth of July and Y2K bundled into one great knot of excitement and pure dread--a mood suspended between civic pride and who's-idea-was-this-anyway, between stocking up on gas masks and fleeing to the Cape.
I'm staying put, because my parents can't travel just now and besides, I don't like the idea of everyone backing away so fearfully from a fundamental part of our self-governance. It takes bravery to participate actively in any democracy, when you come right down to it. We have lost some of our sense of the centrality of the electoral process in the years since the height of the civil rights movement; we have grown more cynical, perhaps, some might say more corrupt, and now, most certainly, afraid. I consider myself lucky to have been reminded constantly of the necessity of resoluteness by so many of my international students, from South Africa, from Croatia, from Poland, from China--all of whom speak of the American civil rights movement as impetus in their bit of the global quest for equality and political participation. And so I go about my business, refusing to flee to the suburbs, hoping that our big, noisy political contests will not yet turn into closeted events high atop mountains, like Davos.
If the threat of terrorism were not enough, both the Democratic and Republican national conventions will be important testing grounds for civil liberties. New rules purport to allow searches of subway riders without probable cause. And as lots of groups (including the policemen's union) line up for permits to rally and picket, large numbers of others call into talk-radio programs, denouncing dissent as dangerous. Gathering "collectively" is made to sound so threatening, so un-American.
Indeed, under the USA Patriot Act, civil disobedience is actually conflated with terrorism. Section 802 defines domestic terrorism as including any acts of social protest or dissent that "involve acts dangerous to human life" and that violate "the criminal laws of the United States or of any state" with intent to "intimidate or coerce a civilian population" or "influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion" or "affect the conduct of a government by mass destruction, assassination or kidnapping." Note that the …