Inside the detention pens
A renewed pledge to resist the war drive
By Dustin Langley
New York
On Aug. 31, the New York Police Department arrested more
than 1,100 people in mass roundups designed to silence and
intimidate the militant pro tests against the Republican
National Con vention. I was one of the 1,100 arrested that
day.
Police took those arrested to Pier 57 on the Hudson River.
Some activists described this holding area as "Guantan amo on
the Hudson." It was made up of detention pens, surrounded by
chain link fence and topped with razor wire, with floors
covered in soot and motor oil.
Detainees at Pier 57 reported sustaining chemical burns and
rashes from the floor of the detention center, which was
previously used as a bus depot. Arrestees were also denied
medical attention. Some detainees "disappeared" into the system
altogether, their families and lawyers finding no trace of them
for two days or more.
Despite a court order, the NYPD refused to release many of
the prisoners until the end of the convention.
But this attempt to silence dissent had just the opposite
effect on many protestors, as I discovered when our group
arrived at the pier. We were greeted with loud cheers and
applause from our fellow prisoners. Despite the brutal police
tactics, we were in high spirits.
At one point during the night, as we were standing in line
with our hands cuffed behind us, we started singing "Soli
darity Forever." The buses kept rolling in, filled with
protesters. We greeted the new prisoners with applause, and
those of us who could raised our fists or flashed peace
signs.
When I was first arrested and thrown into the police van, I
said to my fellow arrestees: "The people of Najaf are being
shot down in the streets for resisting the Empire. We can take
a bust in solidarity." I had been arrested in front of the New
York Public Library while taking pictures of the NYPD beating
protesters.
Later in the night, one activist led our pen in a chant that
said, "Attention NYPD: Come out with your hands up! The Empire
that you are defending is crumbling!" Later, a group of us
chanted, "Brick by brick, wall by wall, we're gonna free Mumia
Abu-Jamal!"
At one point we decided to read aloud the "Pledge of
Resistance" that Not In Our Name has been promoting since
before last year's attack on Iraq. We took turns reading
it.
Detainees were not allowed to contact attorneys, and many
were held much longer than the 24 hours allowed by law--some
more than 48 hours. When we were transferred to Central Booking
at 100 Center St., we were photo graphed, fingerprinted, and
then constantly moved from cell to cell.
We decided to organize a protest inside the jail. We started
using the pay phones inside the cells to call Mayor Michael
Bloomberg's office to demand access to attorneys and immediate
release. Another groups of prisoners began a hunger strike to
protest the illegal detentions.
Although some of the protestors were released the next day,
Sept. 1, approximately 500 were held until late Sept. 2, when
the RNC was drawing to a close. This was an illegal attempt by
the NYPD to shut down political dissent.
Their attempts to silence us failed. We demonstrated great
solidarity and a spirit of resistance inside, and will bring
that spirit back to the streets.
Many of the people I was locked up with said that this had
just renewed their determination to resist. We will be back on
the streets again and again.
On to Washington, D.C., Oct. 17 for the Million Worker
March!
Langley is a Navy veteran and an organizer of SNAFU, a
support organization for GI resisters, conscientious objectors
and those fighting against a new military draft.
Reprinted from the Sept. 16, 2004, issue of
Workers World newspaper
This article is copyright under a Creative
Commons License.
Workers World, 55 W. 17 St., NY, NY 10011
Email: ww@workers.org
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