This Is What Democracy Looks Like (Spelled Out in Pumpkins)

It’s been a little surreal, as this truncated election season lurches into its high-stakes homestretch, to be immersed in an exhibit about the massive protests that shut down the WTO in Seattle in 1999.

One minute I’m looking at a photo of a giant puppet goddess surrounded by belly dancers, the next it’s video of riot cops pepper-spraying peaceful demonstrators. Union members in matching ponchos fill Memorial Stadium; on the jumbotron a longshoreman announces, to deafening cheers, that the ILWU has shut down every port on the West Coast. A group of steelworkers from Spokane leads a parade of environmentalists in cardboard turtle costumes. People shout “no violence!” at a pack of Black Bloc anarchists carrying sticks. Outside McDonald's, a French cheesemaker hands out banned Roquefort and explains how free trade is hurting farmers across the globe. Atop a nearby bus, a young man holds a banner: “VEGAN RESISTANCE.” 

Here is a future City Councilwoman marching with her Chicano student group, all in Zapatista masks. Here is a contingent of familiar Quakers, essentially unchanged by the intervening years. I chuckle at an enormous green condom with “SAFE TRADE” emblazoned on the side – ah, the ‘90s! – then wince at a guy in a gas mask waving an INSURRECTION flag, à la January 6th.

A row of stoic police officers clutch their wooden batons, while a young man offers them flowers. Then it’s a line of protesters, arms linked as frustrated delegates try to push through. And now an interfaith “human chain” stands in the cold November rain, embodying the crushing bondage of Third World debt. Their chant: “We’re here! We’re wet! Cancel the debt!”

Through all of it, I’m struck by the protesters’ focus on democracy: the idea that ordinary people should have a say in the decisions that affect their lives. On Monday, activists hanging from a crane unfurled two enormous opposing arrows labeled “WTO” and “DEMOCRACY.” On Friday, as delegates packed their bags, jubilant demonstrators lay down in the street to spell out “DEMOCRACY” with their bodies. On the days in between, drummers pounded on plastic buckets as people chanted “THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!”

I’ll admit the last quarter century has sorely tested my faith in this imperfect form of government. The last time I heard people chanting “THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE,” I felt my heart sink. “Is it, though?” I muttered to a friend. We both sighed, hitched up our protests signs, and plodded on. This fall that bitter question feels terrifyingly literal. Is this what democracy looks like?  

The answer, my friends, is YES. If we have any doubts about our collective ability to cast our ballots, count them up, and declare a winner who then takes office, now is the time to recommit ourselves to this national project. Like an ailing fairy or a velveteen rabbit, democracy is not real until we bring it to life through our active participation. And if we let it fall apart, our options for determining and enacting the will of the people start looking pretty bleak.

My journey back to 1999 has shown me the incredible, volatile power of direct action, for sure. But that guy with the insurrection flag is a sober reminder that disrupting an institution you disagree with is a knife that can cut both ways. Fortunately, there’s another lesson here – one I think we need even more in this moment.

Twenty-five years ago, activists around the country reached out across issues and ideologies, across tactics and life experiences and dietary preferences, and formed a coalition to confront a common threat. It was messy and hard. They did not always agree about much, besides decrying the WTO. Sometimes their allies seemed naïve, misguided, or downright dangerous. But deep down they knew they needed each other. So they kept talking and listening, hashing out some common ground. And trying to model a creative, courageous democratic process of their own.

And it worked. Teamsters and tree huggers and cheese farmers and faith leaders stood shoulder to shoulder in the streets of Seattle and shut the WTO down. The harms of corporate-driven “free trade” became front page news. Delegates from developing countries, heartened by the protests, rejected the trade deal sought by wealthy countries. Graffiti around the city that week declared, “We’re winning!”

I don’t know if we’re winning these days, but I know deep down that we need each other to make it possible.

And so I am reaching out to my family and friends, neighbors and colleagues, fellow citizens and fellow human beings. I invite you to gather up your creativity and courage, your hopes and your fears – and maybe a side dish or a bottle to share. March over to my house. Find common ground among the pumpkins arrayed on my lawn. Occupy my living room. Sit shoulder to shoulder. Talk. Listen. Dig in, get messy, and make something beautiful together. I can’t think of a better way to prepare for whatever November may bring.

The 30th Annual Pumpkin Carving Party will be Sunday, October 27th. Contact Mikala for deets.