The International Monetary Fund (IMF)/World Bank protests have become something of an annual tradition in Washington, and the event was known to us at GW as “IMF Weekend”. Protesters from all over the country converged on DC to demonstrate against as what they saw as the World Bank's unfair treatment towards third world countries during an annual meeting of the bank's leaders.
I'm not sure if my freshman year was the first year the protests took place, but I recall a lot of concern on our campus and in the city. Many of the groups that were expected to come to Washington to protest had been involved in violent protests that had done much damage recently in Seattle. In the time leading up to the weekend, GW crews put protective plastic over all the street-level windows. Mailboxes were removed from the area and sewer covers were sealed to eliminate potential bomb drop sites. What I haven’t yet mentioned is that the World Bank headquarters is right next to GW's buildings and even among, as its a very urban campus. E.g., my dorm was on 19th and F...the main World Bank building was also 19th and F, right across the street! We were at ground zero for where the protests would take place. $#%& would be going down outside. My administration-plugged-in roommate told me that if the same damage that was done in Seattle occurred on the Foggy Bottom campus, the school would have to shut down. I'm not sure if that was true or not, but the weekend was late April (16-17) and I didn't want the last three months of the semester to have had been for nothing. Many students were leaving town for that weekend (two out of three of my roommates did, me and my remaining roommate, Joe, promised to try to hold the fort if the protesters stormed our dorm). Some students were planning to get involved in the protest (a *weird* floormate asked me if I would like to join her at the site of an illegal protest - the legal one was too “soft” for her - I declined, also she was later arrested). My American Studies professor said she'd be out there protesting and encouraged us to join the protest as well (the legal one, of course). Finally, some students just saw the whole event as an inconvenience and were planning to protest the protesters for interrupting their weekend. At least one frat draped a huge blanket over their house reading "PROTESTERS GO HOME"!
I woke up that Saturday morning at 8am to the sounds of helicopters and drums. I knew that It had begun.
My roommate was gone; if I remember he had slept in his friends room that overlooked the corner of 19th and F (my room didn't face the street). I got up and flipped on the news. It really had already begun. Protesters had stayed in big abandoned warehouses the night before to organize and get an early start. Police had slipped in spies and were able to know exactly when many illegal activities were to take place. At 8am there had already been hundreds of arrests (by the end of the weekend there would thousands - so many RFK Stadium had to used as a holding area for those arrested). The news showed footage of protesters physically clashing with police: protesters trying to break through the police line, fighting with police, police pushing them back with batons, and there were even a few incidents were the protesters got so out of hand that tear gas had to be fired into the crowd (some protesters had brought gas masks, I guess they were experienced...when that gas went off the footage showed a stampede running the other way, boy). These were mini-confrontations that took place along the long police line in various parts of the city (no footage was shown of what was happening outside my window). We at 19th were very close to the White House (staring at 17th) so for obvious security reasons there was a long police line. Suddenly my roommate burst in with videotape in hand. He had recorded the street scene down below at 19th and F from his friend's room on the 6th floor in the room on that corner with his camcorder. He popped the tape in to show me what was going on. There was huge mob of police and protesters, people deep on each side. There were shouts and chants and I was so surprised how many people there were. We thought, "Hmm, shall we work on our papers or check out a large-with-riot-potential- sized crowd?" We'd never seen anything like that and so it was exciting, I'll admit. We prepared to venture out.
Outside I saw where the drum sound had come from. About 100 people were sitting on the steps and grass of the dorm next to ours banging on buckets or anything that would make a noise. The noise there was intense with all the shouting and chanting. We weren't the only GW students out there and many were taking pictures. We didn't want to get to close to the police line and in possible trouble so we stayed on our side of the street and pushed through the crowd. We were so amazed that in one morning our quiet little corner had become a nexus of activity, the epicenter of this huge occurrence. We wanted to venture out further into the city so we walked down 19th with plans to go to the White House to see the situation there (and make sure that President Clinton didn't need to be saved by us). As we walked past the alley between the two dorms we saw a crowd of protesters in the dumpster doing who knows what (later we heard they overturned that dumpster). Fortunately as we got further away the crowd thinned out and we were able to walk more freely.
The spectacle at our corner was nothing compared to what was at The Ellipse (the park in front of the White House). It was like Woodstock. There was a stage set up by the protesters and what looked like a small fair going on from the booths. We went in to check it out. On the way we walked past the long line of stone-faced police officers who were standing shoulder-to-shoulder around the White House. They wouldn't answer even when some guy asked them where a pay phone might be. They had brought these guys in from all the surrounding counties to have enough manpower.
At The Ellipse, it seemed there was just a miscellaneous protest for various topic. Many other protesters (of other fronts) had latched on with their own causes to the main “event” – the World Bank protest. While the main stage was focusing on the IMF, other booths had messages such as "Legalize Marijuana!". On guy was standing on a soapbox shouting, "Free Political Prisoners!!! Free Mustafa!" I never did find out who Mustafa was and I'm not even sure if he was even in an American prison.
Later that day we overheard some protesters with radios say the police line had moved to encompass all of the GW campus...that meant since we couldn't cross the line we'd be stuck outside of our dorms until whenever the police left...as it was only Saturday that could have been at least two days! We ran back planning to flash our student IDs and to beg to get let through. Back on campus the line-moving rumor turned out to not be true and we were able to get to our dorm, but we acknowledged that the line moving as a very real possibility and decided we'd had enough excitement and to stay inside the rest of the night (our wonderful dorm had a cafeteria in its basement, so we were set!). The situation was tense with the crowd outside, though. Even my own RAs who happened to be standing post inside the doorway demanded I show my photo ID!
The next day was a bust, it rained and no protesters showed up. I finally got to work on my paper, and without the constant beating of plastic drums. Friends returned that night and we were able to tell stories of all that happened. The whole weekend was no Seattle; there really wasn't any damage to the University. Mass arrests seemed to quell all problems. My friend, who was honestly acting innocent, was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was arrested. She had stories of her own with that experience. Since I'd never want to have two police officers watch me while I use the bathroom, I resolved never to be arrested.
The protesters kept coming back each year, but it was never as eventful (for me, anyway) as that first year. By my senior year I was thoroughly sick of all protests.
These memories popped in my head this morning when I read in the paper that Ben & Jerry – yes, *THE* Ben & Jerry - were arrested yesterday while protesting outside the Sudanese embassy. I'll be eating some Chunky Monkey ice cream tonight, thereby doing my own part to help contribute to their bail.
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