Posts Tagged ‘general strike’

Battlefield Lisbon

In #GlobalRevolution, Lisbon, Portugal on 15 November 2012 at 03:25

November 14, 2330 hrs.

‘Intifada’ is how the Portuguese news described the events in Lisbon today. Maybe it was a bit of an overstatement, we’ll have to see. In any case, nobody I spoke to ever witnessed something like this happening in Portugal…

Dear people,

A spectre is haunting Europe. For the first time ever, the proletarians of twenty countries joined together in a general strike. If anything, austerity measures are creating a sense of unity among the European peoples.

I’ve seen brief images from Greece, Italy, Spain and England. But today was too big to get a clear picture of everything. I will just tell you what happened here in Lisbon.

There were two feeder marches. One of the big unions and one of dockworkers, anarchists and social movements. Naturally I joined the latter.

It started off very small. A couple of hundred people gathered at Cais do Sodré near the harbour around one o’ clock. Once we got moving, the march had already swollen considerably. We had music, and we had firecrackers, courtesy of the anarchists. They could hear us coming from afar.

At the monumental Praça do Commercio an undercover police officer made a clumsy attempt to arrest one of the people throwing bombs. He almost got lynched by the mob. His colleagues in uniform stormed in to bring him to safety. The arrest was never made.

At Rossio we joined with the march of the unions. That was when the crowd really got big. Through the narrow streets we walked up to Bairro Alto, ‘high hood’. The firecrackers resounded frighteningly loud between the old buildings.

All the way, there was a clear distinction within the march between the unions at the front, and the movements at the back. At the top, we split. The red flags took the road, the black flags descended a small staircase to reunite at São Bento, the Portuguese parliament.

The building is on a hill, accessible through stairs, and surrounded by lawns. It was all fenced off with barriers. It’s an interesting sight, massive police protection of institutions against the rage of the people. It accentuates the ambiguity of the word ‘democracy’.

In front of the stairs, the union leaders staged their little piece of theatre, they were applauded by their members, and thankfully, they soon left.


But the people stayed. Something was about to happen. You could feel it from the beginning. For the moment, the drum band was drumming, the people were cheering. I was talking to a friend of mine. She said the crowd was actually pretty calm, too calm.

Before she even finished her phrase, it started. All along the line, people tore down the barriers. At the stairs, the front line moved up to face the police, but the crowd fell short of taking the stairs by storm. They could have succeeded, but the moment of hesitation was enough for police to organise and to form a line.

Taking down the barriers

So the bombardment started. It was around four thirty. First came the paint bombs. When they were finished, there came the bottles. When those were finished, there came the stones.

Now, you have to know that the streets in Lisbon are made of typical small stones. They are easy to dig up and they are the perfect size for throwing. The anarchists pulled their scarfs over their faces and they had a ball. Behind them, the entire crowd backed them up. The line of police had orders to stand and resist. It went on for hours. Given the amount of ammunition at hand, it could have gone on for months.

At the start of the assault, there had been some small skirmishes at the stairs in which the anarchists conquered one of the officers’ shields. With spray paint, someone cancelled out the word ‘police’ and replaced it with grand capital letters spelling ‘PEOPLE’. The roar was awesome when they brandished their booty.

And the beat went on. The drummers accompanied the stoning. Another police shield was smashed, a lone molotov was thrown to the delight of the crowd. But after about an hour, some people were growing restless. To them it was of no use to go on. They wanted everyone to stop throwing, and charge. At that moment I witnessed the most amazing demonstration of courage by some unprotected citizens who defied the stones by taking the stairs. Two girls sat down on the steps with their hands folded in meditation. But the assault continued, and they finally had to retreat.

Among the people battering the shields of the police there was an adorable old man throwing pebbles. He was completely relaxed, and he had an excellent aim. With one stone after another he could hit the same police officer on his helmet. He didn’t care to hide his face, he was having the time of his life.

Around six, authorities had enough of it. Via megaphone it was announced that people had to disperse or police would charge. The answer came with firecrackers and an intensification of the bombardment.

So police charged. And after having resisted for so long, they were bloody pissed off. They clubbed people down like savages. I took the space that the first line had left open in their wake, shooting footage of the violence. It was not very smart, I should have counted with the second line coming down behind me. One of the bastards went for my camera, then he went for me, then he got assistance. So now I know what a billy club feels like. It makes you mad. Really really mad. In the heat of the moment, I managed to save my footage, to shout all kinds of bad things about these goons and their mothers, and to get the hell out of there in pretty good shape, all more or less at the same time.

Part of us regrouped in a narrow street. We built up barricades from big plastic containers full of trash, and they were set alight. When police advanced, we retreated and built more barricades. Within minutes there were piles of trash ablaze at every street corner. The stench was disgusting, but the sight was wonderful. There was a sense of liberation in the air. “It’s good this is happening. Things needed to be shook up here in Portugal”, someone said.

Meanwhile police were blocking streets left and right, and advancing. We descended towards the sea and the big avenues. At a certain point, police officers started shooting rubber bullets. That’s when most of the group dispersed.

We reunited again at Cais do Sodré, where the demo had started. Phones were ringing continuously, stories came in about police hunting isolated citizens in the alleys and beating them up. Then they came to the square, in full riot gear. They raided the bar where we had found refuge, they took away the usual suspects. One of them was the streamer from audiovisuals. He hadn’t been able to broadcast today, because they had already confiscated his equipment before it all went down. Now he was taken in for questioning. Unlike another person that was taken away from the bar, I haven’t seen him return.

“This is what democracy looks like”, one of my comrades commented.

By now the images have reached the far corners of Portugal. Tomorrow we will have to see what their influence will be on the Portuguese state of my mind. If it were for me, without a doubt, I’d be back at parliament.


‘Towards a General Strike’

In Madrid, Spain on 2 December 2011 at 14:37

Madrid, December 2


Dear people,

Sunday night we came back late from Marinaleda. We wanted to arrive before the General Assembly ended in Puerta del Sol, so that we could present the flag of the little utopian village that we received as a present from the mayor.

It turned out the General Assembly had already ended hours earlier. It wasn’t a surprise. There is hardly any revolutionary vibe in Madrid at the moment. As a result of this, the demonstration that was held last sunday, a march from the neighbourhoods to Congress under the slogan ‘Towards a General Strike’, became a complete flop. Only about a thousand people attended. Most people didn’t know anything about it.

The heart of the local 15M movement remains the Hotel Madrid. It continues to be a troublesome place. Notwithstanding the efforts of many dedicated people, it often resembles a mental institution. One where the patients are in charge.

A few days ago someone set fire to a neighbouring theatre after having entered there through the hotel. The fire was put out, but it added to the bad reputation of the place. It attracts a lot of people from the street, people who need professional help. It’s not an environment where the citizens are going to inform themselves about the movement, or to take part. And the people who are seriously working to make something out of it are complaining of intense psychological pressure, about conflict between ego’s and factions etc. Many of them are giving up and leaving.

As for me, I’m no longer tempted to take part in Communications at the hotel. A lot of things need to be sorted out. First of all the water problem. You cannot house people who got evicted in a building where they can’t use the bathrooms. Fortunately, other buildings keep getting occupied, so that the hotel’s main function is that of a temporary solution where people get housed before they can be offered an appartment in one of the other squats.

With the lack of a real revolutionary movida here in Madrid, I might soon be on the move. In all directions things are happening. Strikes in particular. It’s a peculiar thing. Here in Madrid, there is constant talk of a strike. There is a General Strike commission active for months, but it doesn’t translate into deeds. The ‘general strike’ is like the revolution itself. People have faith that one day in the foreseeable future it will happen, but in practice it never does.

In the rest of the world it’s different, though. Portugal has had a general strike last week. England as well. When Occupy Oakland was evicted over a month ago, a general strike was called for immediately, and three days later the city’s port was shut down. And in Greece, people have just celebrated the seventh general strike in a year, the fourteenth since the beginning of 2010.

Here in Spain, people only sing about it. “Hace falta ya una huelga, una huelga. Hace falta ya una huelga general.

“What’s lacking now is a strike, a strike. What’s lacking now is a general strike.”

Truly, it’s lacking.