Reflections on the BLM Protests in Seattle, 2020

Civil dissent can take a variety of forms, from peaceful, non-intrusive speech and picketing to acts of civil disobedience and, in a more extreme form, violent confrontation, property damage, and riot. The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ) was created after rioting in Seattle following the killing of George Floyd, a Black man, at the hands of the police. This personal narrative describes encounters with diverse members of community organizations, as well as the protest community, the arts community, and armed, volunteer guards at communal events. It bears witness to attempts at conflict resolution, and intends to show how the values and commitment of the Capitol Hill Organized Protest (CHOP) protesters live on.

Key Words: Seattle, police, CHAZ, Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, CHOP, Capitol Hill Organized Protest, demonstration, riot, protest art, Cal Anderson Park

Dissent in Seattle in the wake of the killing of George Floyd, a Black man, at the hands of the police began with rioting in the downtown area of Seattle and eventually moved to the appropriation of public space in the Capitol Hill area of the City of Seattle. The killing of George Floyd and other Black men and women was seen by the protesters as an egregious act of violence by the state against its own citizens. For many, the killing of Black citizens has been going on for too many generations. Those who have less power are most at risk of abuse. We can not forget for a moment that George Floyd is a Black man in America. More of us are realizing the broader truth that many of us are oppressed by our economic, political, and social systems. This is not a Black and white issue. It is a class and power issue.

There was some violence in the area around the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ), later known as the Capitol Hill Organized Protest (CHOP). People were shot, some killed. But the violence did not come from within the protest zone. It was brought to the CHAZ by outsiders. The vast majority of the people at the protest zone worked peacefully, cooperatively, and respectfully. They worked together to resolve deep social problems without conflict. The governing authority – the City of Seattle – and the citizen protestors cobbled together, peacefully and with civility, a way to resolve and make room for civil disobedience while minimizing conflict (Gupta, 2020). Perhaps the most essential function of government is to provide for the safety and security of those who live within that society. Governing authorities need to maintain a balance between freedom and order. Order without benevolence, understanding, and compassion leads to tyranny. The City authorities found a way to maintain order while preserving the standards of a tolerant, respectful community.

I arrived at the CHAZ, later called the CHOP, a day after the Seattle Police Department had secured the Department’s East Precinct building with cyclone fencing, concrete barriers, and plywood on the ground-floor windows, and had left the building and the area. The City of Seattle had blocked the streets leading to the CHAZ with concrete barriers in order to protect the occupants in the protest zone. At one time during the protests there were thousands of people inside the approximately six-block area known as the CHAZ. Inside the CHAZ people treated each other with respect. Large group meetings were held on the green artificial turf in the Bobby Morris PlayField. People gathered in large circles to talk, and to make plans for the maintenance of the protest area. Someone set up a public address system. Three or four regulars acted as public address facilitators. Anyone who wanted to speak had a chance to do so. Everyone was listened to, even those who spoke the language of street people.  A few street speakers needed a little gentle encouragement to stop talking. In keeping with the spirit of sisterhood and brotherhood, that encouragement to wrap things up and pass the mic was delivered  respectfully. Most people knew how much or how little to say. They knew when to hand the microphone over to the next speaker. This is what happens when people feel respected and listened to. When each of us are respected and listened to, we know when we have made our point. Discussion areas for smaller groups were also set up, and many grew up organically, like much of the structure at the CHAZ. People listened to each other, in these smaller conversation areas, and disagreed with each other without anger.

The movement that organized the CHAZ does not have the same type of center that our politicians think it has. It is hydra-headed, more universally located, dynamic and inclusive. It is more peaceful than our larger society. Individuals would spontaneously solve problems together, even during instances of potential or actual conflict. There was a clear diversity of individuals present. The group response to the man known as “the Jesus Guy” is a good example. The Jesus Guy would walk at a fast pace, head down, shouting out his understanding of Christ’s teachings. He frequently did not wear a shirt, and would not make eye contact. I am sure that he felt most comfortable living the street life. When the Jesus Guy, or anyone else, would get rowdy and violently disruptive, people would rush to him and surround him. They would not touch him. They spoke to him with respect. They would move with the angry confused person wherever he went. It looked like a flock of birds changing direction together as one. This gentle and powerful way reminds me of a story of an African tribe that would compel an offending member to stand in the center of a circle while members of his community would tell him things that they love, respect and admire about him (Kornfield, 2010). Communal power is more effective than top-down power. The CHOP had many leaders. And leadership emerged and changed position in an ongoing, dynamic way. The City had to talk to many people, not just a few. A lot of cooperation and sharing was required.

After the Seattle Police (SPD), secured and left the East Precinct building, thousands of people remained in the streets and in the adjunct Cal Anderson Park. At first there were families with children, wearing masks. Almost everyone wore masks. The street and sidewalk, as well as the plywood covering buildings, were covered with street art. It looked like a colorful storm had passed through, causing disorder and leaving a lot of art in its wake. There was art everywhere. “Fuck the Police” was a common theme. These sentiments were presented with style and power. We were in a gigantic, outdoor art gallery, and we were part of the art.

While the CHOP is no longer a place on Capitol Hill in Seattle, it is not over. The motivations and values expressed there live on. The protest zone is not located in any one place, it is a movement. This movement includes the government of the City of Seattle. As the CHOP was ending, the City preserved as much of the art as possible for prosperity. I was told that the city government of Washington DC also preserved much of the street protest art that stood in defiance on the White House fence.

While there was conflict and even some violence on the periphery of the CHOP, there was even more cooperation. The fact that the City of Seattle is preserving as much art from the CHOP as possible – even after a standoff between police and thousands of citizens that included property damage and looting of high-end stores in the most expensive retail core of Seattle, as well as a shooting before the police left the area, and more shootings and some deaths after they left – shows that this is a story about respect and cooperation, as well as defiance and hope. When I first arrived at the CHAZ there were thousands of people in the streets. Five or six city blocks filled with people. Cal Anderson Park held even more people. People had set up a living community in the park. It seemed like there were more than a hundred tents. The City brought in public toilets. People organized themselves to pick up trash. It was surprisingly quiet for such a large crowd. Everyone knew that something profound and momentous was taking place. People were serious and determined. Some spoke on a low stage, which had been set up in the street in front of the police station. People spoke about justice long overdue, and about oppression. On many occasions people would shout in unison, “I Can’t Breathe.” It was a powerful group chant. We knew that the phrase applied to each one of us as well. Respect and determination were alive in the air.

The demonstration did not begin at the CHAZ. It had started several blocks away, in the high-end downtown commercial district of Seattle, with breaking, looting, burning, shouting, and a lot of anger. At least six police cars were burned. It was a civil uprising. A small but significant number of people broke windows and looted the most expensive stores on the most expensive streets in downtown Seattle. The police responded with rubber bullets, smoke, gas, percussion grenades, and nightsticks. The streets of Seattle were the scene of a civil conflict that rivaled the “Battle in Seattle” demonstrations/riots around the World Trade Organization and Protest in Seattle in 1999 (WTO Meeting, historylink.org), There had not been disturbances like this one, in Seattle, for more than 20 years (Oldman, 1999, 2009). This uprising was much more serious and sustainable.

This civil conflict was directed at the rich and their allies, the near-rich and the well-off. Protestors intentionally struck at the most accessible symbols of the well-to-do class, their high-end retail establishments. People were doing more than destroying windows and taking things. They were raging against a system to which they no longer felt they belonged, and with which they did not feel allied. The young know that the planet’s climate is in a serious state. Many expressed socialist sympathies. Those high-end stores, for many, represented only a distorted and contrived manipulation of desire. Those who were breaking windows felt profound resentment, to say the least.

While there were organizing elements at work at the CHOP, this group was largely self-organized and did not need to be motivated. The dissatisfaction they felt was motivation enough. When the Attorney General of the United States referred to antifa as a political organization, he was either uninformed or speaking for political effect. Antifa is a movement. It is not an organization (Barr, 2020). There were a variety of groups that were trying to use the CHOP moment for their own purposes. Antifa, as loosely organized as it is, was a minor and relatively insignificant player. Something bigger than breaking glass and stealing high-end sneakers was taking place.

The powers that be, as Spike Lee referred to them in the film Do the Right Thing, have noticed and are responding (Lee, 1989). In response to the events of that spring and summer, there have been changes in policing that have not happened before in America. The public, juries, criminal prosecutor’s offices, police organizations and police unions have been reluctant to hold police officers criminally accountable for their actions (Shaila, 2020). The demand for police accountability has increased significantly during 2020 (Higgins, 2020).

This demand for greater accountability for the actions of the police is likely the result of greater awareness and demand for changes by the public, because of the greater use of camera phones and social media (Love, 2021). There were many groups at the CHAZ influencing the change to include community social service and groups run by community organizations.

Later, after the CHAZ had become the CHOP, a man walked up to me in Cal Anderson Park and asked me where the AA group was meeting. The AA people were easy to spot. They were sitting in a circle on the artificial grass, talking and, most importantly, listening to each other. They spoke with each other and shared their personal stories earnestly, sincerely and respectfully. They were an expression of peaceful group action in the midst of dramatic change (Royal, 2020).

Capitol Hill was intentionally chosen to become the CHAZ. Capitol Hill was chosen because it is perhaps the most eclectic expression of diversity and individuality in the city. Years ago, it was the gay part of town. There is a freedom there that helps all to breathe into being whoever you are, as long as you let others breathe as well. Capitol Hill has always felt safe for me. Some fearful and conservative people may have thought that this neighborhood was too unusual, but people on Capitol Hill know how to get along with each other.  They value and respect each other’s differences on Capitol Hill. The Capitol Hill neighborhood is home to a university and a college, major hospitals, and the Queer Bar. While Capitol Hill is well into its gentrification phase, as is all of Seattle, it has retained its alternative vibe.

Cal Anderson Park is located in Capitol Hill, a couple of blocks from the East Precinct Police Station. Cal Anderson was the first openly gay member of the Seattle City Council. The park is about three blocks by about a block and a half in size. The park resembles the expansive Jardin des Tuileries, in Paris with the Louvre at one end. It is very charming, and has a few old city buildings like the former neighborhood water station, now covered in brightly-colored graffiti. It is also two blocks west of the Seattle Police Department East Precinct building, another old and impressive building. The building is made of cement and is stylishly industrial, with large windows. The city did not want to make the building look like a fortress. It is open and accessible. At one time people could walk from the street into the front lobby, which was also open and filled with light from large windows. It is a welcoming place. The spirit of Seattle can be seen in this building and throughout this story. The Spirit of Seattle lives on in the hearts of the city’s governing authorities, in the people in the streets, and in the hearts of many of the residents of Seattle.

After the police left the precinct building and the area, much of the national news media described that departure as a takeover. It was not a takeover. It was an arranged deal. People did not arrive at this deal by sitting around a table. This arrangement began with protests over the death of a black man at the hands of the police. There was conflict between the police and people in the streets. What began with shouting, burning, throwing bricks, gas, rubber bullets, clubs, and arrests, evolved into a face-to-face standoff in the rain. Both sides eventually reached this place of face-to-face tension without additional violence. The police and the demonstrators stood and stared at each other for what seemed like more than a day.  The police on one side with all of their riot gear, dressed in black, holding a line of clear plastic shields. Officers with gas guns and rubber bullet guns backed up the frontline cops. Behind them were several ranks of National Guard soldiers. On the other side, facing them, were probably three thousand people. The news reported at one time there were 10,000 people there. It became obvious that the people were not going anywhere. It was raining, of course. This is Seattle. Both sides stood silently in the rain in a thousand-person-plus stare down. I would watch people on television rioting across the country in shorts and t-shirts. The people in Seattle were dressed for cool, wet weather. The two sides stared at each other in determined silence, neither side taking any action. Neither side giving an inch. Mutual respect and a desire for a new order emerged. The two sides represented the old order, and the demand for change, the new order struggling to emerge.

While this street negotiation was taking place, the brother of an East Precinct police officer drove his car into the crowd. When a brave soul reached into his car in an attempt to stop him. The driver pulled out a handgun and shot the citizen hero in the arm. The driver got out of his car and ran through the crowd. People let him pass. He was carrying a gun and most people did not know what had happened. He ran to the police line with the gun in his hand and surrendered.  He was not shot. He was white, of course. The news media reported that he had said he was going to work and thought he could take a short cut and get through the demonstration. He has been arrested and charged with a felony crime. The shooting may have contributed to the city’s decision to withdraw the police.

Carved in cement –our modern version of stone –across the front of the East Precinct building were the words “Seattle Police East Precinct.” Someone had spray painted “People’s” over the word “Police.” The building had been renamed “Seattle People’s East Precinct.” There was talk in the street of turning the precinct into an interpretive cultural learning center. The police had secured the building with heavy wire fencing and plywood before they left. Other than spray-painted graffiti on the plywood, I did not see any other damage to the building. The people could have damaged the building. They could have burned it to the ground, as others had done in Minneapolis. But the people didn’t. The People’s East Precinct Building had become a prize and a symbol of people power.

From the moment of my arrival I could feel the determination in the people, and in their art. The pen may be more powerful than the sword, but the brush is just as mighty as the pen. The scene was powerful, and chaotically organized. It might have looked like a war zone, but it was too colorful. People had demonstrated an angry, delightful, sometimes funny, creative, and beautiful way of saying Fuck the Police. A lot of affirmations for gay power, and demands for respectful protection for Black transgender women. The number of Black transwomen being killed is shocking. Someone has it in for them. Someone who must be afraid, confused, and angry. The first duty of any governing authority is to provide for the safety and well being of all of the people.

I told a number of people that I was a retired police officer. I wanted to get it out there early. People did not seem to care. One man with an AR-15 said, my father is an FBI agent. Several people said there were still police in the building. If there were, they were out of sight. The police did not need to be in the building. The city had street cameras everywhere. When the SPD posted videos of one of the shootings, we could view it from six different street camera angles.

The City may have arrived at an understood but non-negotiated withdrawal agreement with the demonstrators, because the building had been left intact. I don’t remember seeing any damage other than graffiti. Other buildings, some with considerable charm, had been desecrated. What would we do without the word “fuck”? The word says so much. It was written everywhere. “Fuck the Rich” and “Fuck the Police” were common themes. While people were pissed off and determined, there was not a lot of expressed anger. Rather there was a fierce, deep commitment, and demand for change. I felt like I was in some type of shrine. People were quiet and respectful and, as I have said, determined. The atmosphere was one of hopefulness, self-confidence, community, restrained joy, and determination.

People put up barricades, and built garden plots in the streets with some of the most beautiful soil I have ever seen. People built gardens all over Cal Anderson Park. The National Lawyers Guild (NLG) posted their telephone numbers on signs that advised people to write the NLG numbers on their arms in case of arrest. There were many signs asking people not to photograph faces. There was free food and water. A community clinic station, with a van and tents, had been set up. Volunteer medics were present. One rainy day I took rain gear to the free clothing tent. There were at least two conversation areas.

As one of the informal but more influential spokespeople and leaders said, “CHOP is not a place, it is an idea.” People actually spoke, and at times disagreed with each other, in the conversation areas with intensity and respect. I could still feel that determination and mutual appreciation after the CHOP left Cal Anderson Park. All of those people had exploded into the larger community like a virus for justice and equality and dignity for all. This is not the end. This is the beginning.

The film series Plutocracy (Noble, 2019) describes the development of the USA labor movement from the late 1800s until close to recent times. The segment covering the period from 1920 to 1940 looks much like our own time. Financial excesses in the Roaring Twenties led to a financial and economic collapse by the end of the decade, followed by the Great Depression. Workers would go into the streets, march, and ask for relief and justice. The powerful elites would ignore them. Eventually, the workers would begin to interfere with industrial production. It was only then that governing authorities would send the police to beat the workers and, in some cases, to shoot and kill them. Property damage and killing would get the attention of the political elites, and they would give the workers just enough to get them to go back to work and then to go home. Those who were in power did not give out of kindness. They gave because they did not want the system to come down. They knew that they were dependent on the rest of society. Property damage, theft, loss of income, and the threat of chaos gets the attention of the elites. Something has changed. The number of police who were fired and charged with crimes last year is unprecedented. If these police officers are being held accountable now, why not before?

On the stage in the intersection in front of the Seattle People’s East Precinct building, Native American people from Portland, Oregon, told soulful stories about their husband, father, brother, or friend who had been choked to death by the Portland PD. About a dozen Native American people had come to Seattle from Portland. They brought drums, their voices, and prayers. They held a ceremony in a circle in front of the stage. They sat in a circle in the intersection. After the drumming, singing, and praying, they told their stories. The first to speak asked for permission to tell their stories, since they were from Portland and were not from Seattle. The crowd replied yes. After the stories, they ended with another ceremony, and prayer.  Other angry people got up and talked about political and social injustice. The focus was on the police, but people were asking for more than not to be shot by the cops for doing things that no one should die for. They were demanding to live in a just society, which includes living free from want and free from fear.

In response, political authorities nationwide have begun to give up members of their security state in record numbers. What is going on in terms of police officers being fired and charged so quickly and in such significant numbers? Chris Hedges (Hedges, 2019), writes that the rulers will never share power until the security state turns against them. Here we have some elements of institutional power turning against the security state. Are we on the cusp of a great change? Governments may be more fragile than we think they are. 

The firing of the cops is a hard one to read. There is more here than just the fear felt by the elites. There is a genuine demand for and recognition of the need for justice. Our political leaders, and those who wield greater power, appear to have recognized these demands. This is a powerful movement and a powerful time. When Chris Hedges wrote that the rulers will not surrender power until the security state turns against them, he was referring to his experience in more autocratic regimes. The United States is still a functioning democracy. Our democratically-elected leaders have been responding to the demands from the people. The most powerful elites want to crush the demonstrators. Trump speaks about how beautiful it was to see the militarized police cut through the wall of protestors and drive them out of Lafayette Square Park (Super, 2021). A US senator said the Federal government should send the military to our cities to restore order (Cotton, 2020). The senator was calling for the restoration of the old repressive order, not a newer, more inclusive one. This is a dangerous game for the elites. The soldiers and police officers are from the same class as the people.

The first shooting at the CHOP changed things dramatically. After the shooting, many of the mental health counselors left. Some of the attorneys left, and the community aid station was shut down. People with pistols were standing at each entrance to the CHOP. Where there had been concrete, metal, and wood barricades, there were now, in addition, large black vehicles with big tires, and men with radios and guns blocking the entrances to the CHOP.  Where there had once been more than two thousand people, there were now only hundreds. I no longer saw any families or children. There were rumors that white men in a white pickup truck had driven into the CHOP at about 3:00 in the morning, and had shot a 19-year-old Black man to death. They also shot and critically injured a 33-year-old white man. The police later disputed this explanation for the shooting. The city government has said very little about this, and the other shootings. When the police initially responded to the reports of people having been shot, they were confronted by people demanding that they put their guns down. The police chose to withdraw. Some of the protesters protected the police by placing themselves between the police and the other protestors. 

There were to be more shootings in the area of the CHOP. A man with an AR-15 rifle arrived at the CHOP to help to restore order, and take the CHOP back from the protesters. He was met by a group of CHOP supporters with handguns, and reasons why he should leave. He left without firing a shot. 

I arrived at the CHOP a little after 10:00 one morning and saw a group of men dressed in camouflage and carrying AR-15s. All but two had their faces covered with masks and sunglasses. I walked up to them and started taking their pictures. One of them got angry and told me not to take their pictures. I asked if they were right-wing militia. One, without a face covering, shouted, “I am a Puerto Rican man.” I told them that I was a retired police officer. Another, without face covering, said that his dad was an FBI agent. 

In addition to the ARs, they all had pistols, radios, and were wearing protective ballistic vests and sand- or dirt-colored camo. Their leader said that he had served six years in the Marines. He acted like an NCO. All of them carried themselves like soldiers. They were present and disciplined, and looked me straight in the eye without emotion. They knew how to hold and carry their weapons. Each soldier was outfitted with at least $4,000 worth of equipment.

I shook hands with the Puerto Rican man and with the NCO. The NCO deployed people on rooftops and along the perimeter of the CHOP. A woman on a bicycle, wearing a t-shirt with “Security” printed in white letters on the back, rode up and asked the NCO to coordinate with the other security people. She also had a radio. They talked about their group wearing a patch for identification. 

After the soldiers deployed, another member of the group approached me. He was a little older than the others, perhaps in his mid or late 40s. He did not have an AR. He was from the East Coast. He said that the NCO was from out of state. They were members of a national group that used the name “John Brown.” The local group is named the Puget Sound John Brown Gun Club. They are inclusive, progressive, democratic, and socialist. They also provide armed protection for progressive events. They had come to Seattle to protect the CHOP. The man from the East Coast knew a lot about police departments in the USA. He knew which ones were the worst and which ones were better. He knew a lot about progressive politics. He was a fan of Chris Hedges.  

The CHOP needed protection from right-wing militia gun nuts, who could be seen driving around the perimeter of the CHOP and slowing down to glare out of their truck windows in a menacing way. Notifications had been posted on some of the street barriers telling people how to recognize threatening people and vehicles, and how to report their presence. 

One morning, at about 3:00 AM, white SUV drove into the Cal Anderson Park People’s Camp and fired shots before being repulsed, probably with returning gunfire. This was captured on surveillance cameras. What happened next is a little confusing. The news media and the police later found the SUV crashed into a concrete barrier that the city had placed in the street to protect the CHOP. It was riddled with bullet holes. There was blood in the vehicle. Several people had been taken to the emergency room at Harborview Medical Center with gunshot wounds. At least one had died.  There were reports in the media that several people had given first aid to the occupants of the vehicle. A cell phone video just a few seconds long had been broadcast on television in which a voice could be heard saying, “Pick up all of the shell casings.” The police did not find any casings. If the John Brown soldiers had shot up the vehicle, they were probably acting as they had been trained to do in Iraq or Afghanistan. 

I want to write about the cooperation, supportive community, and love that was on display in the CHOP. For most of our lives we live in peace. Yet there is an underlayment of violence our society. If we deny this violence it will continue to grow and live in the unconscious. We do not cure ourselves by running away from what ails us. We need to face the violence, fear, and anger. We need to recognize its deep existence in our society, our collective history, and in our personal lives. Recognition leads to understanding. Understanding leads to acceptance of responsibility and freedom. 

Humans have evolved to live peacefully in community. We are to be able to love our neighbors. The vast majority of human behavior is cooperative, sharing and peaceful.  But our social systems are filled with oppression. Our social system does not support human needs. The CHOP illustrated how we can challenge our dysfunctional system and build social, economic, and political systems that are more inclusive, loving, respectful, cooperative, and peaceful.  The Seattle City authorities and those asking for justice at the CHOP were able to allow for what was a relatively minor disruption in the affairs of a small section of the city and to eventually restore order without violence. We can make change now, while our economic, political, and environmental worlds are becoming destabilized. We need to contain the violent impulses and nurture the forces of love and cooperation.

On a Sunday afternoon, several weeks after Seattle police officers left the East Precinct building, rumors spread among the several hundred people who remained in the CHOP that SPD officers were going to return and take back their building. People stood in a thin line, arms linked, in front of the entrance to the building. The police never arrived. There were repeated rumors that SPD was coming, every day, for the next week. SPD never showed up. Then early one morning they arrived, took back their building, and cleared the campers and everyone else from Cal Anderson Park and the several blocks that had been called the CHOP. There was no violence. Several dozen protesters formed up on Broadway along the west side of the perimeter that the police had set up. Order had been restored. 

Civil unrest will most likely remain a part of the social and political fabric of our society. Our experience with the CHOP protestors and the civil authorities can serve as an illustration of how these protests can be resolved in the most peaceful manner.