A Canadian's experience in Florence
1171 wörter über mein Erlebnis in Florenz auf dem Europäischen Sozial Forum. Auf Englisch.
“The European Social Forum- A Personal Account of an Unforgettable Event”
I arrived in Florence, Italy with an inner cocktail of hesitation and excitement for the first ever European Social Forum. Being a Canadian on exchange in Berlin, I was hesitant about my ability to participate, but boarded the bus with a sleeping bag and an open mind and traveled 24 hours straight south with 180 other Berliners; students, anti-war activists, revolutionaries, street-theatre enthusiasts and many as-yet unofficially politically unattached people like myself. I had no idea what to expect. I don’t think I could have ever expected what would happen in Florence…
Immediately struck by the incredible amount of planning and organization that went into this 4-day event, chalked full of seminars, lectures and conferences, I became overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the Forum. The event was borne of the World Social Forum, which was held in Porto Alegre, Brazil in January of 2001. The theme of the World Social Forum was “Another World Is Possible” and the European Social Forum (ESF), it follows, was that “Another Europe is Possible”. The blanket mission statement under the title was “against neo-liberalism, war and racism”. Sounded good to me…
Every morning and every evening there were between eight to ten conferences to choose from arranged by the subheadings; “Globalization and Liberalism”, “War and Peace” and “Rights- Citizenship- Democracy”. These events were hosted by the ESF itself and then every afternoon were literally dozens and dozens of seminars or workshops to go to, hosted by individual organizations from all over Europe. This, of course, was frustrating for the information-seeking budding activist, because there was simply no way to get an overall impression of what was being offered, the sheer selection was awe-inspiring. (and I thought I’d get a chance to see Florence…)
In retrospect, the beauty of having a gathering with such a diverse programme, is that every individual had their own unique experience at the forum, and could then share and discuss their day with any of the 60,000 participants from all over Europe at one of the cultural events or in a pizzeria or in a café over Italian cappuccino…
If I could convey to you, the sheer magnitude of people who took part in the forum, you would never believe that such a large event could also be successful. Imagine sitting in what seems like a big beer hall with 3000 people, listening to speakers talk about the building of the anti-war movement in England or Food Sovereignty or Argentina-post December 2001…people clapping and cheering and listening and learning and networking all around you. Unbelievable.
At each event, headsets were available so that participants could listen to the speeches being translated on the spot into at least English, but usually also French, German, Spanish and Italian…very impressive for the Canadian girl who can never stop being amazed at the multi-linguality of the large majority of Europeans.
I took part in a number of seminars and conferences with topics ranging from “From the European Union shaped by neo-liberal globalization to the Europe of alternatives” to “Men and Women: an inescapable conflict for a shared future” (where, I might add, the contribution from the audience was far more exciting than the speakers themselves) to “Anti-Capitalism: What we want and how to get it” among others.
All of this immense information sharing, discussion and debate was slowly but steadily building up to the massive anti-war demonstration planned for Saturday afternoon. I must admit, there was a tangible fear in the air, regarding the peacefulness of the demonstration given the track-record of the Italian police. Just over one year ago, at the G8 Protest in Genoa, Carlo Guilliani was shot and killed by police in the first day of protests against the G8 agenda. There was no doubt that this was on all of our minds. Carlo’s mother spoke at the Anti-Capitalism seminar and, through a translator, she said she was convinced “we were doing the right thing” and that we brought her and Carlo’s memory honour by continuing to struggle against the forces that would have us be silent. She received a standing ovation. I wondered if my mother would have said the same thing if it were me that had been struck down last year. I think we all did. But I think we all felt that Mrs. Guilianni was just like all of our mothers, and to experience her solidarity for “the movement” in the face of her loss, was like physical proof for all of us that this is real and this is happening and this is right. This gave me and I think all of us, the incredibly emotional impetus to continue to stand up for what we believe in. There was no doubt that this was no longer just on our minds, but also in our hearts as we prepared to take to the streets the following morning.
Saturday morning. Demo-day. Last-minute additions to the massive stockpiles of signs and banners were being hastily made: staples, tape and paint were a precious commodity. The feeling in the air was unbelievable. I must admit, I was prepared and had actually expected there to be some sort of police altercation at the demonstration. I think we were all concerned about this, or more specifically concerned that the media would jump at the opportunity to smear the image of the forum and the demonstration in order to downplay the very clear rising in anti-war sentiment happening now all over the world. Nonetheless, we weren’t the least bit interested in letting this fear override the statement we were about to make with the expected two to three hundred thousand people on that sunny Saturday morning. Word had already come that special trains had to be ordered to accommodate the people who were flowing in from all over Italy and Europe. And all of this was happening in the shadow of the United Nations’ decision the day before to send weapons inspectors into Iraq.
But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that were about to come together as a continent to say NO to war. Not now. Not ever.
The official start time of the demonstration was to be three o’clock, but given the apparent number of people peacefully besieging Florence, the start time was moved to eleven. Slowly, we in the International Block, headed off to the Piazza Dell Indipendenza where thousands of people had already gathered and were heading off. And we marched. And we chanted. And we smiled. And we cheered.
Slowly we started to get word that something like three or four hundred thousand people were already marching with us. There comes a point, I think, where you can no longer grasp how many people are actually around you, because you simply can’t see the end of them. The streets were all shut down and there were no police to be seen. I repeat, there were no police anywhere to be seen. Instead of helmeted cops with guns on the side of the streets, there were thousands and thousands of Italians, cheering and clapping and encouraging us along. I think all of Florence was out there with us. If people weren’t on the streets, then they were on their balconies, where street after street, house after house, flags saying “Pace” (Peace) or white table cloths or bed-sheets were flung over balconies in solidarity with us. I have never experienced such a feeling. I’m getting goose bumps just sitting here writing about it. One of the white sheets just had the word “Grazia” (Thanks) spray painted on it. Wow. The support and encouragement of the Italian people was incredible.
We marched eight kilometres and about four hours through the streets of Florence and arrived at the end to hear that we should be sure to make room or sit down in the massive field where a concert was about to be held, because people were still STARTING to march back at the beginning. Gradually word came out that we were half a million people, and then, given the never-ending flow of demonstrators, colourful, happy, cheering demonstrators, we were then told it was probably more like a million people.
A million people.
A million people.
I’m not sure the English language has the words to describe what that meant to us, what that means to all of us. A million people. A million people unified under one cause: Peace. A million people representing hundreds or thousands of different groups, organizations, parties, unions and individuals. What does this mean to me? What does this mean to you?
To me, it meant and will always mean that another world really is possible. There hasn’t been a massive mobilization with these numbers in Europe since the 1920’s. If you think about how many people simply couldn’t make it to Florence on that day, or how many people stayed home because of the Italian/International Media’s extensive attempt to instill fear in the protesters, or how many people have ever even just thought about going to a protest, but were too disheartened to ever actually go…to just think about the implications for this movement and for all movements where the people take to the streets and say “we want a different world”…where the people are unified under the banner of action and can freely and peacefully represent their diverse interests…where the people come together and say “we’ve had enough, and we will make change, whether you legislate it or not”…think about what this means for the people of Iraq, for the people who are suffering all over the world….think about what it means to you…
The feeling in the air after the demonstration was pure jubilation. We felt no fear. We felt no competition. We could hardly stop grinning…intoxicated on politics, we danced and danced into the night. We felt empowered to go home and spread this empowerment with everyone in our local communities. We couldn’t wait to get back and let everyone know that we can do it, we will do it, and that the world we live in, the system we have inherited, is in our hands. We can do anything if we come together and support each other keep open-minds. The only thing that was destroyed in Florence, Italy on November 9th, 2002 was our biggest enemy : Cynicism. We felt that we had taken part in something historical, but even more importantly, we felt that we had only just begun.
“…the people, united, will never be defeated…the people united, will never be defeated…”
jacqueline hoffart
november, 13th 2002
I arrived in Florence, Italy with an inner cocktail of hesitation and excitement for the first ever European Social Forum. Being a Canadian on exchange in Berlin, I was hesitant about my ability to participate, but boarded the bus with a sleeping bag and an open mind and traveled 24 hours straight south with 180 other Berliners; students, anti-war activists, revolutionaries, street-theatre enthusiasts and many as-yet unofficially politically unattached people like myself. I had no idea what to expect. I don’t think I could have ever expected what would happen in Florence…
Immediately struck by the incredible amount of planning and organization that went into this 4-day event, chalked full of seminars, lectures and conferences, I became overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the Forum. The event was borne of the World Social Forum, which was held in Porto Alegre, Brazil in January of 2001. The theme of the World Social Forum was “Another World Is Possible” and the European Social Forum (ESF), it follows, was that “Another Europe is Possible”. The blanket mission statement under the title was “against neo-liberalism, war and racism”. Sounded good to me…
Every morning and every evening there were between eight to ten conferences to choose from arranged by the subheadings; “Globalization and Liberalism”, “War and Peace” and “Rights- Citizenship- Democracy”. These events were hosted by the ESF itself and then every afternoon were literally dozens and dozens of seminars or workshops to go to, hosted by individual organizations from all over Europe. This, of course, was frustrating for the information-seeking budding activist, because there was simply no way to get an overall impression of what was being offered, the sheer selection was awe-inspiring. (and I thought I’d get a chance to see Florence…)
In retrospect, the beauty of having a gathering with such a diverse programme, is that every individual had their own unique experience at the forum, and could then share and discuss their day with any of the 60,000 participants from all over Europe at one of the cultural events or in a pizzeria or in a café over Italian cappuccino…
If I could convey to you, the sheer magnitude of people who took part in the forum, you would never believe that such a large event could also be successful. Imagine sitting in what seems like a big beer hall with 3000 people, listening to speakers talk about the building of the anti-war movement in England or Food Sovereignty or Argentina-post December 2001…people clapping and cheering and listening and learning and networking all around you. Unbelievable.
At each event, headsets were available so that participants could listen to the speeches being translated on the spot into at least English, but usually also French, German, Spanish and Italian…very impressive for the Canadian girl who can never stop being amazed at the multi-linguality of the large majority of Europeans.
I took part in a number of seminars and conferences with topics ranging from “From the European Union shaped by neo-liberal globalization to the Europe of alternatives” to “Men and Women: an inescapable conflict for a shared future” (where, I might add, the contribution from the audience was far more exciting than the speakers themselves) to “Anti-Capitalism: What we want and how to get it” among others.
All of this immense information sharing, discussion and debate was slowly but steadily building up to the massive anti-war demonstration planned for Saturday afternoon. I must admit, there was a tangible fear in the air, regarding the peacefulness of the demonstration given the track-record of the Italian police. Just over one year ago, at the G8 Protest in Genoa, Carlo Guilliani was shot and killed by police in the first day of protests against the G8 agenda. There was no doubt that this was on all of our minds. Carlo’s mother spoke at the Anti-Capitalism seminar and, through a translator, she said she was convinced “we were doing the right thing” and that we brought her and Carlo’s memory honour by continuing to struggle against the forces that would have us be silent. She received a standing ovation. I wondered if my mother would have said the same thing if it were me that had been struck down last year. I think we all did. But I think we all felt that Mrs. Guilianni was just like all of our mothers, and to experience her solidarity for “the movement” in the face of her loss, was like physical proof for all of us that this is real and this is happening and this is right. This gave me and I think all of us, the incredibly emotional impetus to continue to stand up for what we believe in. There was no doubt that this was no longer just on our minds, but also in our hearts as we prepared to take to the streets the following morning.
Saturday morning. Demo-day. Last-minute additions to the massive stockpiles of signs and banners were being hastily made: staples, tape and paint were a precious commodity. The feeling in the air was unbelievable. I must admit, I was prepared and had actually expected there to be some sort of police altercation at the demonstration. I think we were all concerned about this, or more specifically concerned that the media would jump at the opportunity to smear the image of the forum and the demonstration in order to downplay the very clear rising in anti-war sentiment happening now all over the world. Nonetheless, we weren’t the least bit interested in letting this fear override the statement we were about to make with the expected two to three hundred thousand people on that sunny Saturday morning. Word had already come that special trains had to be ordered to accommodate the people who were flowing in from all over Italy and Europe. And all of this was happening in the shadow of the United Nations’ decision the day before to send weapons inspectors into Iraq.
But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that were about to come together as a continent to say NO to war. Not now. Not ever.
The official start time of the demonstration was to be three o’clock, but given the apparent number of people peacefully besieging Florence, the start time was moved to eleven. Slowly, we in the International Block, headed off to the Piazza Dell Indipendenza where thousands of people had already gathered and were heading off. And we marched. And we chanted. And we smiled. And we cheered.
Slowly we started to get word that something like three or four hundred thousand people were already marching with us. There comes a point, I think, where you can no longer grasp how many people are actually around you, because you simply can’t see the end of them. The streets were all shut down and there were no police to be seen. I repeat, there were no police anywhere to be seen. Instead of helmeted cops with guns on the side of the streets, there were thousands and thousands of Italians, cheering and clapping and encouraging us along. I think all of Florence was out there with us. If people weren’t on the streets, then they were on their balconies, where street after street, house after house, flags saying “Pace” (Peace) or white table cloths or bed-sheets were flung over balconies in solidarity with us. I have never experienced such a feeling. I’m getting goose bumps just sitting here writing about it. One of the white sheets just had the word “Grazia” (Thanks) spray painted on it. Wow. The support and encouragement of the Italian people was incredible.
We marched eight kilometres and about four hours through the streets of Florence and arrived at the end to hear that we should be sure to make room or sit down in the massive field where a concert was about to be held, because people were still STARTING to march back at the beginning. Gradually word came out that we were half a million people, and then, given the never-ending flow of demonstrators, colourful, happy, cheering demonstrators, we were then told it was probably more like a million people.
A million people.
A million people.
I’m not sure the English language has the words to describe what that meant to us, what that means to all of us. A million people. A million people unified under one cause: Peace. A million people representing hundreds or thousands of different groups, organizations, parties, unions and individuals. What does this mean to me? What does this mean to you?
To me, it meant and will always mean that another world really is possible. There hasn’t been a massive mobilization with these numbers in Europe since the 1920’s. If you think about how many people simply couldn’t make it to Florence on that day, or how many people stayed home because of the Italian/International Media’s extensive attempt to instill fear in the protesters, or how many people have ever even just thought about going to a protest, but were too disheartened to ever actually go…to just think about the implications for this movement and for all movements where the people take to the streets and say “we want a different world”…where the people are unified under the banner of action and can freely and peacefully represent their diverse interests…where the people come together and say “we’ve had enough, and we will make change, whether you legislate it or not”…think about what this means for the people of Iraq, for the people who are suffering all over the world….think about what it means to you…
The feeling in the air after the demonstration was pure jubilation. We felt no fear. We felt no competition. We could hardly stop grinning…intoxicated on politics, we danced and danced into the night. We felt empowered to go home and spread this empowerment with everyone in our local communities. We couldn’t wait to get back and let everyone know that we can do it, we will do it, and that the world we live in, the system we have inherited, is in our hands. We can do anything if we come together and support each other keep open-minds. The only thing that was destroyed in Florence, Italy on November 9th, 2002 was our biggest enemy : Cynicism. We felt that we had taken part in something historical, but even more importantly, we felt that we had only just begun.
“…the people, united, will never be defeated…the people united, will never be defeated…”
jacqueline hoffart
november, 13th 2002
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