NY State Speech Shakedown

Summary: Attending a public rally for an elected official, I am dismayed by manipulative efforts to stifle speech and any discussion of real issues in favor of presenting a candy-coated media event.

Just yesterday, I heard about Governor Paterson coming to Rochester to announce his bid for reelection. A few concerned friends who are working to raise awareness of the dangers of hydrofracking in the Marcellus shale brought it up, and two of us were able to get over the union hall in time to get seats. We brought signs that simply had the word "FRACK" in a circle with a line through it, and we put them under our seats, waiting patiently for the public event to begin. Within minutes, an organizer asked us to bring our signs and speak with her, saying "you're not in trouble." She explained that this was a "happy event" and they wanted to make sure it stayed "peaceful," then offered us a couple of minutes with the governor after the speeches if we allowed her to take our signs away during the event. Surprised by the direct request, I wanted to take a few minutes to talk it over, but she said no, we had to relent right then, and she did not present us with other options. Another aide came over, saying "this isn't the time or place for you to bring up your issues." I disagreed, pointing out that clean water is a critical issue for as long as we exist, and this is an important time to take a stand for it. But we gave up the signs.

A union leader introduced Susan John, who introduced David Gantt, who took twenty minutes to discuss the reasons he supports mayoral control of the Rochester city schools. So the forum proved an appropriate time for Gantt to champion that cause, even though there were scores of people in the audience who buzzed with disagreement. Paterson got to the microphone, cracked jokes and charmed the supportive audience, and we endured the whole thing in perfect compliance with the social etiquette appropriate for such an occasion, even clapping a few times. When the speech ended, an aide took us to meet Paterson's security person/special envoy, who told us to wait in a corner. We did so--patiently--as people filtered out of the room. Some people and the press remained circled around the governor, snapping photos, delaying him for a predictably long while.

I asked the man who took the signs if we could have them back; he said yes and showed me where they were. The original aide then caught sight of us holding onto the signs (low on our bodies, not over our heads or even up to our chests, just holding them down below waist height) and told us that we were breaking our promise, and we needed to stash the signs again. It felt pretty ridiculous. Nobody was paying attention to us holding signs in the corner of the room. I explained that we had already held to our end of the deal, and were waiting to talk to the governor. One aide became two, two became three, and our relatively minor stubbornness in refusing to hide the signs again escalated into a full-blown conflict. The governor's envoy asked to speak to us in another space, away from cameras, but we stood our ground as a single photographer snapped some shots of the encounter. A few of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder, purposefully blocking our images from the camera, prompting me to ask where my right to free press went. A friend and fellow poverty and homelessness activist noticed the skirmish, snagged a sign, and started walking around the hall with it over his head, calling more attention to the scene. The governor's people got more upset, saying that we violated the agreement, failing to disclose the presence of another activist. The person who originally made the so-called deal told us that we should leave, that it had turned into a private event.

Relatively fired up by the run-around, we stayed put while a brand new aide to the governor came over and asked us to explain our issues to him. He reassured us that just last week the governor had talked with some people in Syracuse about fracking: he knows about it, and we could rest assured that he would make a good decision. Saying, essentially, "don't worry about your clean water rights: people in another city already talked about it for a few minutes and have got it covered."
Bleak state of a so-called democracy, no?

Ultimately, the messengers huffed and puffed and brought the governor over to meet with us. He said that our state has some of the highest environmental standards in the country, and he has confidence that a good decision will be made, but right now we're just playing a waiting game while the public comments are reviewed and new information is considered. I suggested that he convene a panel of first nations people to learn their perspective on the issue, which crosses all boundaries and affects all life in the area. While I'm glad that the governor took two minutes to talk to me, I did not feel heard. I was angry about my rights being trampled to ensure that a happy tone prevailed on the news.

As we finally left, one of the lackeys said "its about respect: you'll understand when you're older." I don't think so. I'm in the struggle for life and won't sell out or shut up just because the grand poohbah is in the room. Next time I don't even think I'll give up my sign.