Kylie from Keele GR writes about her experiences in Genoa

As the eminent day approach that we were to leave for Genoa, speculation begun about what to expect when we got there.  In preparation we had purchased dust masks and goggles as we had been warned that we would quite probably be tear gassed, and although we went as physically prepared as we could I don’t believe I could ever be mentally prepared for the experience I had in Genoa.

As we set off at midnight in the car on our way to Dover, where we were to meet up with the rest of the Globalise Resistance party we were travelling on the train with, a mixture of excitement and anticipation grew.  Although we reached Dover a few hours early it still felt as if our ‘adventure’ had begun.  At about 9am we called through to a room and separated from the other passengers aboard the ferry, but we were boarded without any problem.  It was here that I began to hear stories of how the day before the train we were to boarded in Calais had been cancelled, however the uproar of French unions had forced SNCF to reinstate the train.

It wasn’t until we disembarked the ferry that it became clear the barriers that had been erected before us in our journey to Genoa.  After a rather confusing and worrying passport check at the French boarder, where the passport control took everyone’s passports in a big pile from us, took them to a room somewhere, and finally returned them expecting us to redistribute them ourselves.  However, it wasn’t as if we didn’t have the time to do this because we were then kept for a further three and a half hours, as they systematically checked the bags of the 300 plus people that were going to board the train.  Due to this delay, the scheduled food and water stop at a Calais hypermarket had to be cancelled, and the train departure pushed back an hour to 4pm.

When we finally reached the train station and boarded the train there was about fifteen minutes to celebrate and hang out of the window as we were finally going to be on our way.  Outside the train press were taking photos and our Keele Globalise Resistance banner became particularly popular.  A tremendous cheer echoed throughout the train as we pulled away from the station.  Due to many of the group not being able to purchase any food because of the delays at the French border all food supplies were handed in and distributed amongst everyone, this we were very grateful for because we were one of the many who had no food or water.  A meeting was organised on the train to educate the many of us who were virgins to international protest about tear gas, the importance of affinity groups and more, as well as to discuss the varying aims and objectives of people on board.  Globalise Resistance made clear that they did not condone violence, but what was to be termed as violence became the subject of debate.  The blurred line within this violence debate was whether trying to get through the fence in to the red zone could be considered violent.  However, it was made clear that nobody was expected to do or take part in anything they did not agree with.

After this most people tried to get some sleep including everyone in our carriage, however we were all awoken at about 3.30am with a twenty warning that we were going to be arriving at Modrne where the train would terminate.  Once we did leave the train we were met by the Italian boarder control, who were surprisingly less intrusive and vigorous than the French boarder control we had experienced earlier.  The checked our passports and briefly checked our bags, and then let us board the coaches.  Our coaches were then escorted to the Italian border about 5 miles away, where we drove straight through without any trouble.  After a few stops at service stations for some food and supplies, we finally reached Genoa.  As the coaches drove into Genoa we could see the huge cruise liner where the ‘big’ G8 would be meeting, and at every turn a huge road block where the red zone extended to.

The coaches drop us off quite a bit away from the convergence centre where we needed to be in order to dump our bags, so a short bus trip was in order.  Unfortunately when we reach Brignole station we became aware that a march was in progress, the small group that we were with soon realised we were caught in the middle, with protesters marching towards us, and highly kited out Italian police behind us.  We got out of that situation and just happen to run into a large group of other GR people.  As we all moved away from the troublesome area and found refuge on a grass hill, a decision was made to make our way to a pacifist demonstration, so we could collect our thoughts and decide what we were going to do.

When we reached the demonstration there were no end of information stalls, and plenty of dancing and music, a contrast to what we had nearly been caught up in half an hour earlier, which made it hard to believe when things did begin to go wrong.  As we grouped and began to discuss the idea of a few people staying with bags and others making their way down to the fence, a group of the black bloc appeared from one of the streets and began to march around.  Why the black bloc was in the pacifist section was a subject of great dispute between many of the GR members.  However, the fact that the pink bloc, a different group, appeared not seconds after, led me to believe the police had driven them up there.  On the other hand I think the group were also fully aware that by staying in the area they would bring the police to us.  This thought was further confirmed in my mind when a member of the black bloc fired a flare at the police helicopter, which inevitably brought the police to us.  As the group tried to get away from the area we were faced by a group of Christian pacifists, who had their hands painted white, who would not let us through, I think this was because they were unsure of who we were and what our motives were.  At this point I looked behind me and I saw tear gas drifting through the air, I realised we were going to have to face this, so I reached for my mask and my goggles.  As I began to put them on I realised the pacifists were beginning to let us through, but by this time it was too late as the tear gas was now being fired directly at as.  As a fellow group member handed me some lemon juice and I began to follow everyone up a small flight of stairs, I looked back and saw one of the things that disturbed me to the core about the whole weekend.  Although I had heard of such brutality before to actually see it happen before my eyes was extremely scary, the police were beating the hell out of the pacifists.  Then as we made our way back towards the square we had came from, with our hands in the air, we were greeted by police screaming muffled demands in Italian and hitting anyone who was holding anything that could be perceived as a weapon.  As the herded us against the wall a cold chill ran down my spine as I realised these people gave no mercy and would have no problem beating each and every one of us.  To our left one guy was being taken off in an ambulance covered in blood obviously after a meeting with a police baton.

As things began to calm and we began to regroup it became clear that many of our group were missing, but our goal was still to try and make it to the convergence centre, so a scouting party was sent out to see if a safe way could be found.  When the scouting party returned it was discovered that the convergence centre was out of the question, but there was a regrouping of pacifists and a demonstration was occurring further towards the centre of town.  So at the bottom of the stairs the group split into two, some went to the demonstration, and others including us headed for the other passivists, because I certainly did not feel like facing the police again while I had all my bags with me.  We found the rest of the GR group, who we had lost when we were tear gassed, and were informed that we were to be getting a police escort to the convergence centre.  Five minutes later the group who had split from us and headed for the demonstration appeared, and stories were told about how they could not get near to the fence, and had been driven away from the area by tear gas.  It was also at this point that we were all learning that a protester had been killed although how was not yet clear to us.

As we made our way down the main street at a fast pace, the destruction in the street was shocking, banks smashed, graffiti, and even a burnt out police van.  At this point I began to feel like not only had I myself not accomplished anything that day, but those that believed they had, had done it in a way that upset me deeply.  When we reached the convergence centre we were informed that it was not safe to leave again that night so our affinity group made the decision to stay there the night.  After much discussion about all our experiences that day, we slept on the concrete floor in our sleeping bags and were awakened a few times in the night by the circling police helicopter.

As I awoke the next morning at about 8am I was faced with the shocking pictures that were dominating the press around the world, and the cold reality of where I was and the struggles that have to be faced for our cause washed over me.  Thoughts of the images I had seen haunted me all day, what can be passed off as self defence these days?  The use of a gun was not justified in the face of a fire extinguisher?  Why shoot him twice in the head, and run over him twice, surely the motive must be to see him dead?  With this cloud over our heads the cause continued, as we attended the rally further down the seafront, where I was amazed to see the range of different groups of people gathered.  There were many unions from Greece and Italy, plus a lot of Socialist Workers Party members, but maybe the most amazing thing was the age range of everyone there.  It is a common misconception that radical movements like ours are made up of young people with nothing better to do, but just looking at the range of people around me would be sure to persuade anyone that believes this idea that it really is a fiction.  The main topic of the rally was the tragedy from the day before, but it was not simply a case of condemning but discussion of how it should fuel our movement, and give us more reason to press on.

In the afternoon, there were so many people around; this excited me greatly as the number of groups getting ready to take part in the march multiplied.  As we made our way to the start of the march it was almost like a carnival atmosphere, and once the march began this continued, except for the obvious presence of gloom and chants of ‘assissino’ emerged whenever the police could be seen.  At one point during the march, I had the chance to go a head and view the march from a height, the stream of people was amazing and filled me with sheer motivation.  We were informed later in the day that there were over 300,000 people taking part in the march, regardless of the number the papers reported.  The march was possibly the most amazing part of the whole weekend, because the street we had to hurry down the previous day belonged to us that afternoon, and the people who must have been so scared in their apartments the day before where hanging out their windows in support.  There was on one balcony a banner reading ‘welcome to Genoa citizenz of the world’, an old lady of at least 90 who stood on her balcony waving a red hankie and some people were throwing water on the crowd to cool them off, it was amazing.

Once we reached the end of the march, we decided it would be best to head back to the convergence centre to collect our bags in case trouble broke out later.  Unfortunately, as we made our way back down the march route we could see tear gas in the air.  Before we knew it we found ourselves making our way through back streets to avoid trouble.  When we were doing this we saw a group of people barricading a road with bins and as we hurried through that street to get out before police arrived we saw one guy setting those bins on fire.  When we reached the centre the bank on the corner was alight, and people began to notice that there were tear gas canisters all over the enclosure.  We soon found out that the march had broken off right out side the centre, as well as in 3 or 4 other places.  It was a bit of a dampener on what we had been apart of earlier in the day, and many of the stories told by those in the problem areas were tales of non-provocation by protesters.

Once most of the group had gathered at the convergence centre it was time to organise getting back out of town to the coaches avoiding trouble.  We went off in small groups following the group in front and making sure the group behind was still there.  Once we reached the coach pick up point there was time to spare, so some people went to the bar down the road to buy some drink.  When we got to the bar we ran into Kevin Danaher, where I talked to him for a while, which was quite exciting.

The coaches arrived and as we left Genoa I had learnt a great deal about the movement I was involved in and the opposition that we face, and although it was a kind of scary experience, if I had the chance to do it again I would without hesitation.

Ky