by Joe Tarr
Prelude: October 8, 2002
President Bush is in town for a noon luncheon. He is stumping for gubernatorial candidate Van Hilleary, but there is a war brewing and Bush doesn't waste the opportunity to make his case.
"If they won't deal with [Saddam Hussein], the United States will lead a coalition to deal with this man—for the sake of peace," Bush tells the crowd, which raised him at least $750,000.
Outside are about 200 people who take issue with the president's pugnacious stance. They carry anti-war signs, perform street theater and chant. But getting their message heard is not so easy today. Police confine the protesters to a parking lot across Henley Street from the convention center.
"I don't think they were really ready for protesters or anybody dissenting against the president in Knoxville," says Libby Johnson, one of the protesters. "We were told we were only allowed behind a certain area. We couldn't even be on the sidewalk. They put us behind the bushes. We saw other people walking by us and going to the convention center."
People wearing formal suits or dresses are allowed to pass on the sidewalk and cross the street; those carrying signs are forbidden. As a further insult, two pro-Bush supporters walk around firing bullhorns into the protesters ears—complaints to the police go unanswered. (The Knoxville police department denies people were treated differently depending on their political bent.)
Incredulous about the double standard, several protesters leave the designated area and cross the street. "Myself and two other women went up to the convention center where other members of the public were. As soon as we took out a sign, the police bodily pushed us back to the free speech zone and said, 'You have to stay here,'" says Lissa McLeod.
They break from the so-called First Amendment zone again and this time when the police meet them in the median, McLeod and Anne Hablas sit down and refuse to move. Police handcuff them.
Others in the crowd are pushed back to the parking lot, but Johnson drops in the middle of the street. "I just sat. I refused to move. So they drug me to the median and handcuffed me," Johnson says. "Some Secret Service people dressed in black came over and tried to get information from us. They wanted our Social Security numbers, they wanted to know who we were. We weren't going to give them that.
"It's a constitutional right for us to have healthy, non-violent dissent," she adds. "We got out from behind the bushes because nobody could see us.... In the midst of all this chaos, I feel like we have to speak out. I can't just sit back and go to work everyday, without speaking out that I don't like what our government is doing."
Jan. 8, 2004; 7:45 a.m.
It's just after dawn on a brisk January morning, but the Convention Center is restless with police cars and armed men, all of them a little wary as they eye passersby.
The president is coming to town again and in this day and age it requires lots of people with guns to make sure it all goes smoothly. There are also plenty of TV crews and reporters scoping the scene. Some of those reporters will be paying close attention to how dissidents are treated by the police. The Secret Service's controversial practice of confining protesters to "free-speech zones" has brought scrutiny, criticism and a lawsuit.
For now, there's little sign of conflict.
Barriers are erected. A Knoxville Area Transit employee directs several buses as they park along the Clinch Avenue viaduct. They're not delivering school kids or supporters—they're all empty. But the Secret Service has deemed these 18 buses necessary to protect the president. In a few hours, some will question just what those buses are protecting him from.
"Free-Speech Zones"
The arrests that happened in Knoxville in October 2002 were not isolated incidents. Protesters have been getting arrested around the country at Bush events, for violating restrictions imposed by the Secret Service.
The American Civil Liberties Union filed a lawsuit last September against the agency, claiming it is insulating the president from criticism and violating First Amendment rights.
In Pittsburgh, a retired steelworker named Bill Neel was holding a sign that read "The Bush family must surely love the poor, they made so many of us." He was ordered by police out of a crowd of people holding pro-Bush signs and into a free-speech zone a third of a mile away, according to The American Conservative. When he refused, he was charged with disorderly conduct and his sign was taken. Neel reportedly said, "As far as I'm concerned, the whole country is a free speech zone." (It's a quote that is often repeated by First Amendment advocates and Bush protesters.) A local judge threw out the charges.
Trespassing charges were also dropped against Brett Bursey, who was arrested for holding an anti-Bush sign among a crowd of Bush supporters at a rally at Columbia Metropolitan Airport in South Carolina. After the state dropped the charges, the Justice Department charged him with "entering a restricted area around the President of the United States." He was fined $500 last week, but pledged to appeal.
In other places, protesters have been confined a mile or more from where the president speaks, while Bush partisans have been allowed much closer.
Vic Walzczak, director of the Pittsburgh chapter of the ACLU, describes his group's lawsuit this way: "The argument is that the Secret Service cannot treat protesters differently or worse than it treats other members of the public. It's not a claim that protesters have any special right to go into a secure area.
"What we've seen is the Secret Service will allow pro-Bush signs or people with no signs to stand 50 feet away and protesters have to be a quarter mile away. And neither one of them has to go through a security screening. It's simply a way of moving protesters out of sight and earshot. And that's unconstitutional."
Although local police agencies are often the ones enforcing the free speech restrictions, the ACLU claims to have evidence that it's being done at the direction of the Secret Service. Walzczak says they have sworn and unsworn testimony from police and Secret Service officials. "At this point, there's no question this is coming from Secret Service. Why would the local police have any interest in doing this?" he says.
Attorney Mike Whalen defended McLeod, Hablas and Johnson in their charges from Bush's last visit (they were fined $50 each). He blames President Bush.
"This has never been done before this cowardly president and this cowardly administration came into office," Whalen says. "Until this administration came in, free speech zones did not exist. This is a way for a coward to protect himself from people he was anointed to rule. The same administration that tells us terrorists hate us for our freedoms decides the best way to fight that is by limiting freedoms.
"This has nothing to do with security. If it did, no one would be allowed within 30 feet of the place," he adds.
UT law professor Glenn Reynolds—a First Amendment scholar who writes the blog, InstaPundit, and Metro Pulse commentaries—disagreed that it's a new phenomena.
"Ever since the '68 Democratic convention, people have been much more concerned with crowd control," he says. The attempt to assassinate President Reagan, the Oklahoma bombing, and the World Trade Center attack all led to stricter security.
"My thought on this is it's perfectly reasonable to do things for traffic and security reasons. [But] we've had events where they set up a protest zone a mile or two away and that's absolutely ridiculous," Reynolds says. "The whole United States is supposed to be a free speech zone.
"My own sense has been that we worry too much about this sort of thing. Nobody ever gets fired for doing too good a job on security, so they naturally tend to overreach," he adds. "So the Secret Service assumes somewhat stupidly that someone with an anti-Bush sign is more of a security threat."
Walzczak agreed that the practice isn't new under Bush. Nixon was accused of free speech abuses, as were the administrations of Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and Clinton. But he adds, "This is the first president we've seen widespread use of protester discrimination."
9:45 a.m.
Police are ready for the anticipated onslaught. I walk with Metro Pulse art director Josh Coldiron around the perimeter of the Convention Center to see what happens. We cross the pedestrian bridge over Henley Street and plant ourselves at Holiday Inn across from the main entrance. A few minutes pass and a KPD officer tells us to move along. He tells us we can walk by here, but we can't stand around. "If you keep walking back and forth someone will probably stop you," he says.
10 a.m.
Sandy Rini—carrying a sign that reads "Stop Mad Cowboy Disease"—is one of the first on the scene. She walks across Henley Street to the boulevard at Cumberland and Henley, but police direct her back across the street.
I catch her on her retreat. She says she's not part of any group. "I think it's important to let the president know we want him out of here," she says. "It's to let people know we're not afraid to stand up for our rights."
Most of the KAT buses are now lined along the west side of Henley Street. Bumper-to-bumper they form a public transit barrier, presumably a first line of defense against terrorists or surly protesters. (Mark Hairr, KAT's general manager, says the 18 buses borrowed by Secret Service did not disrupt KAT's services, mainly because UT is not in session and there are fewer routes in service.)
Coldiron crosses the street to get a snapshot of the buses. I half worry that he'll be shot pointing a camera toward the Convention Center.
It's easy to be nervous with so many armed men standing around. I get about a half block away when a KPD officer asks me if he can help me. I say no and ask if there's a problem. He says he saw me taking pictures. I don't have a camera on me.
What They're Protesting
The protest restrictions certainly haven't deterred those speaking out against President Bush. As so often happens, it has probably galvanized them to action.
In temperatures that hovered at 30 degrees, they gathered around the John J. Duncan Federal Building at 10:30 a.m., bundled in polypropylene longjohns, heavy wool and down coats, hats and scarves. Organizers passed out signs to those that didn't have any. "Proud of my country, ashamed of my President," one reads. "No Billionaire Left Behind." Others listed the numbers of dead (just under 500) and wounded (9,000) U.S. soldiers in Iraq.
There are several policies they are protesting: Bush's handling of the war in Iraq, his foreign policy, his anti-terror program (which many see as violating civil liberties), his environmental policies, his tax cuts for the wealthy, the spiraling deficit.
"The one unifying message of everyone who is going to be there [protesting] is we can't take four more years of George Bush. His policies have been disastrous both in the United States and around the world," McLeod says.
"I believe the policies of Bush and his administration have been about making corporations and rich people richer and causing death and destruction and suffering for millions of people around the world," she later adds. "This is really a critical time in our country when people have to speak up."
Many are part of non-profit political groups, like MoveOn, the Sierra Club, and Earth First!, but others have just shown up with friends.
"My main issue is handling of the war in Iraq. I think the U.S. has to do less empire building and more work with other nations," says Glenda Struss-Keyes. "This to me isn't a partisan protest—it's against the policies of the administration."
"I'm here because democracy is being seriously damaged at this time," says Marcus Keyes. "Also because this administration has endangered my security. Preemptive strike is the rule of the day and that causes fear and insecurity."
"Everything now is in the name of national security. The war was in the name of national security. Have all the killings stopped since the war? There have been 488 soldiers killed, 9,000 U.S. soldiers evacuated because of wounds and illnesses. That's being kept very quiet by the media. We don't even know how many civilians have been killed in Iraq."
David Orr of the Sierra Club says he's upset with the administration's environmental policy, which shows misguided priorities. More people die every day from pollution than died from the anthrax attacks, and thousands die every year from air pollution. "Yet Bush is rolling back clean air regulations and that's costing people lives," he says.
"There's a lot of noise about this 'Leave no child behind,' but not much money," says Gerhard Blombach, an older man who says he doesn't come out and protest much. "I'm all in favor of improving schools and education, but it's too much talk. We're sending too much money overseas."
Several people who met through a MoveOn party come out to protest too. "I'm very upset about the Patriot Act and Patriot Act II, which has limited our civil liberties," says Amy Broyles, a MoveOn member. "I'm very upset about his environmental policies. I'm concerned that he's not funding education as he said he would.
"I think Bush lied about a lot of things, but he lied about the reasons for taking us into Iraq. He lied about that," Broyles adds. "We've had almost 500 American soldiers die in Iraq, all because President Bush lied. I'm proud of my country and the soldiers, but I'm very ashamed of my president."
Although the demonstrators are nearly unified in opposition against Bush, there certainly are supporters of the president in Knoxville. The fund-raising event raised an astounding $1 million for his re-election.
11 a.m.—12:30 p.m.
The protesters who gathered at the Duncan building march down to Henley Street at 11 a.m.
The sidewalk on the east side of Henley, between Church and Cumberland, has been designated the "First Amendment zone." In this block, anything legal goes. Police line the sidewalk to keep order, and more stand on the median.
People are allowed to walk beyond this free-speech block as long as they don't go into the Secret Service designated secure zone. KPD spokesman says he can't say just where the secure zone is. "If you're out there, you will know and will be instructed that you cannot go into that area."
Loitering—well, standing—just outside the secure zone is frowned upon. While it's perfectly acceptable to stand on the east side of Henley between Church and Cumberland, standing on the block between Church and Clinch is a no-no. But you can walk there.
One of the people I interview says, "The guy from CNN just asked me if I'm a threat. I said 'No.'"
The CNN guy is wearing a snazzy black wool overcoat. I cave into an impulse that I've always found a little nauseating—interviewing a journalist. Today I'm interested in spin. Standing next to his cameraman he jokes that he is Secret Service, but quickly, politely, demurs. He says his name is Brian Cabell and he's doing a story on the "free-speech zones" for CNN. "This is very close," he says of Knoxville's First Amendment zone's proximity to the building where the president is speaking. "The cops are apparently very proud of the fact that they're allowing the protesters so close."
Metro Pulse spots only one Bush partisan among the demonstrators. He is Brent Ashe who says "I'm out here just to show my support for the president."
"I think those people should think before they call George Bush a terrorist," he says of the protesters. At times he heckles them, calling them supporters of Saddam Hussein.
Carol Nickle and Fran Ansley, volunteer attorneys with the ACLU, are passing out cards to people explaining their rights. "You have a right to go and be anywhere that the general public is allowed to go at that time as long as you are not blocking a street or sidewalk," they read. There's contact information on the back if someone believes the police have violated their rights.
They hear that a woman with a protest sign was ordered away from the Clinch Avenue entrance to the Convention Center, when another person without a sign was allowed to pass. Nickle gets two volunteers to go back over with a sign and see what happens. She, Ansley and I follow not far behind.
The two protesters are told they can stand across the Clinch Avenue viaduct, where Coldiron and I were earlier ordered to move on.
The police over here don't have much patience. Nickle and Ansley walk past the entrance, stopping just beyond it. A cop quickly yelps, "Nope, nope—Keep moving."
They ask the officer how he distinguishes between invited guests and the public. "It's all been arranged," he says. "I would have let you in but you wouldn't have gotten any farther [than the check-in] without an invitation."
We move a little farther down the road and are joined by others, including attorney Mike Whalen. We mull around, talking about security and drug dogs.
After a few minutes, the police are barking at us again.
"This area is restricted," one of them yells.
"Who is it restricted from?" Whalen asks.
"Secret Service restricted it. You'll have to ask them," the policeman says.
"They're not the ones telling me to leave."
We leave anyway.
Not the Worst Free-Speech Zone
Most protesters are incredulous at the idea of a free-speech zone, but today's restrictions don't bother too many of them. "I don't remember what it was like before Bush took office," says James Staub who is handing out postcards appealing for clemency for Olen Hutchison, who is on death row in Tennessee. He says he protested at a Bush campaign stop in 2000 where protesters were kept a mile away.
He understands the need for security but says, "It bothers me when traditional public forums like sidewalks aren't taken seriously."
Natalie Foster, a regional representative of the Sierra Club, says the restrictions have been worse in other places.
"It's just hard to believe this is America. It's part of our history to be able to take to the streets. The idea of a free-speech zone is ridiculous," she says.
Still, as free-speech zones go, this one is OK, Foster adds. "This free-speech zone is in the main area and I'm glad for that. We're getting a lot of traffic, people are honking their horns. This isn't the worst free-speech zone I've been in."
Although several protesters say the conditions are much better than Bush's last Knoxville visit, KPD spokesman Darrell DeBusk denies police changed their tactics. "We've never restricted the protesters. We've always had a safe zone. I don't think it was more restrictive or less restrictive than what we've done before," he says. "You're free to come and go as you please. There's no restrictions. I don't understand why people would think they were restricted. As long as they didn't go into the safe zone or violate any city ordinance, they were free to come and go as they pleased."
DeBusk says the protesters were as close as they could be to the secure zone, and they were in a location where a lot of people would see and hear their views.
But McLeod says that the protest was still managed and confined. "Because of where we stood, there were a lot of people that didn't have to walk by us. We weren't allowed to be in front of the Holiday Inn," she says. "It's disappointing to me in watching the media coverage. The press, who of all people benefit from the First Amendment, the press isn't saying 'This is wrong.' It's sad to me that the media doesn't play more of a role of being a commentator on the restrictions and just says, 'Yeah, well, that's how it is.'"
The News Sentinel reported an incident at West View Elementary School, where Bush stopped earlier in the day. A group of protesters were shuffled away from where they were standing and then state workers were allowed to take their place and view the motorcade go by, the paper reported. Orr, who was there, says police kept moving them farther and farther away. "It was clear they were moving us so we wouldn't be seen by anyone in the motorcade."
Protesters were kept far from the president's motorcade throughout the day.
"It's a shame when people have to tell their message to the press instead of their elected officials," says Don Barger, Southeast regional director of the National Parks Conservation Association. "Just look at all those buses—can you imagine?"
Whalen also doubts the buses are for security. "It's not for security, because if it was there'd be buses all around the Convention Center. The only side of the Convention Center where there are buses is the area across from where people want to be seen and heard," he says. (One participant who attended the president's speech says he caught glimpse of a sign, but little else of the protesters, from inside the Convention Center.)
DeBusk says the buses were there for a legitimate security concern, but he says he can't reveal it. "It had nothing to do with trying to block a view," he says. He also can't say how many KPD officers were on duty for the security. "We don't talk about enforcement numbers because of security concerns for future events," he says.
Why Protest
None of the protesters were arrested last Thursday. "There were a few people that wanted to come across to the safe zone. We asked them to go back and they complied," DeBusk says.
It's impossible to measure what effect the demonstrators had or how many people listened to their grievances.
Blombach says he doesn't come out to protest much. He prefers to write letters and lobby privately. He was compelled to come out today to let people know that not everybody agrees with the president.
"I really don't think it does much good," Blombach says. "He won't even know we're here. The people with him won't report it. He'll think everything is hunky dory."
McLeod usually brings her two daughters, age 6 and 8, with her when she protests. "I tell them we're there because we want to do something to make the world better. By being there, we can make a difference."
She hopes to teach them to be engaged in the world. Her daughters remind her to keep demonstrations fun and engaging.
McLeod doesn't expect the president to hear her, but hopes to reach anyone who will listen, either in person or through the media. She says spectators and bystanders often thank her for speaking up.
"It feels to me like my responsibility to be very clear that I don't support these policies, I don't support the way this country is going. Everybody who feels that way has a responsibility to be vocal. When people are vocal it creates this space where others can speak up," she says. "You don't have to be silent and you don't have to sit at home and be overwhelmed. You may not change it on your own but everybody has a part to play."
January 15, 2003 * Vol. 14, No. 3
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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