Autonomedia forwards: "Death and Terror in Genoa
(By Ramor Ryan, Autopsy List)

The Siege of Genoa

The walls went up around the old quarter of Genoa, enclosing the Group of 8 (G8) and their cohorts. Huge heavy walls of concrete and metal, like medieval fortifications or prison fences, walls to keep the people out, the world leaders penned in. Genoa is a beautiful renaissance city carved out of
a treacherous mountain slope that seems to slide irrevocably into the sea.
Its pulsating streets, the mystery of its dense labyrinth and the expansive
calm of the seafront create a surreal theatre for the battle that would
consume it. .

Leading up to the summit, the authorities closed down the airport, the main
railway stations and severely restricted access by road. Aside from the
centre of town, (the red zone) which was completely forbidden to citizens,
the area surrounding the red zone was also restricted (the yellow zone) with
people enduring random stop and searches. Local people fled the town in
droves, and most businesses had closed for the duration of the summit. The
G8 had transformed Genoa from a thriving commercial and tourist metropolis
to a war zone under a form of martial law.

As if to justify the extraordinary security measures, the media reported
various bomb scares and explosive finds, all of which protesters viewed
skeptically. No groups claimed responsibility, and these are not tactics
used by the alternative globalization movement. The Italian military brought
in an array of defensive missiles, and war ships were stationed in the bay.
A state of paranoid terror was created to dissuade protesters from coming,
and to criminalize the protesters who did.

Repression began at the border. On the Austrian border, activists from No
Borders were attacked, one woman losing 5 teeth. A boat full of protesters
from Greece was held and the passengers attacked by riot police. Several
hundred British protesters on a train were detained in France and a group of
cyclists were held at the German border. 70 migrants travelling from Germany
to attend the Migrants march were refused entry into Italy. People
disembarking at airports in Milan and Turin were subjected to interrogation
and searches.

Cars were routinely pulled over and the occupants detained. Nevertheless,
tens of thousands of outsiders would make it to Genoa and more than 200,000
demonstrators attended the final manifestation.

The logistical setup for the protesters centered on the Genoa Social Forum,
the organizing body representing several hundred diverse groups. Their
slogan was A Different World Is Possible. They pointed out that the movement
was not anti-globalization, but an alternative vision of globalization, one
that does not put profits before people, free trade before free movement; a
movement that seeks to eliminate the gap between rich and poor, the powerful
and the powerless. In a word, to democratize the process of globalization.
The GSF was based in a huge parking lot on the seafront. From this
Convergence Centre, people were dispatched to camping in various stadiums
and parks across the city, loosely based on group affiliation. A thriving
Indymedia Centre was located near the Convergence Centre, There were legal,
medical and administrative centers: the movement organizes itself,
autonomously. Caf Clandestino provided free food and drink, while `Manu
Chao played a free late night concert before 25,000 ecstatic revelers the
night before the summit began. A message from Sub-Commandante Marcos was
boomed over the PA. How can one town hold so many Che Guevara t-shirts,
Zapatista paliacates, Palestinian scarves? The international connection,
bridges between 1st and 3rd worlds, North and South, were everywhere to be
seen, not just in the presence of Kurdish, African, Japanese or Indian
delegates, but also with Europeans who bring their foreign experiences home.

The police raided the camping centers at dawn on the 20th, even before the
summit began. Dawn raids by paramilitary police! From the start it was
clear- heavy repression, stifle protest, the iron fist. At the Carlini
stadium, home to the strong Ya Basta faction, the loudspeakers woke us at
5.30am.

"The police have surrounded us, everybody defend the gates"..
Outside lines of heavily armored paramilitary police stood ready. They
demanded to enter to search for 'arms and explosives'. Ya Basta is a
non-violent direct action organization. "To show we have nothing to hide"
and to diffuse the situation, the central committee allowed a delegation of
cops in to search the premises. Many companer@s are furious to have to
submit to this search, but the Ya Basta leaders prevail. From early on, a
split emerges in the protesters ranks between those who wish to resist the
repression, and those who want to avoid confrontation. All around the city,
the campsites are raided- to cause distress, confusion, to create fear, to
deprive people of sleep! Meanwhile houses of activists preparing to go to
Genoa are raided in other cities, doors kicked down, people detained. 5
Germans are arrested while driving in a car close to the red zone.

The first mobilization takes place on Thursday 19 July. About 50,000 people
gather for a Migrants March. The day is warm and sunny and the streets are
thronged with a peaceful, high-spirited multitude. There are no cops in
sight, and the mood is light. The first demand- open the borders to people
as well as goods. We are not against globalization, but a globalization that
criminalises and marginalises migrants. Are the G8 listening? Do they care?
At least it is reported that they are shifting their agenda to talk about
debt relief (for people who never they borrowed) and an Aids fund for Africa
(A figure of $10 billion is requested, $1 billion is granted). The media is
chocabloc full of street stories, scare stories, spectacular images,
fuelling the tension. The stage is set: The New World Order, the Global
Empire, protected by 20,000 police and military, besieged by the new Global
protest movement. Graffiti appears on the walls. - They make misery, we make
history.

Friday 20 July. Storming the Gates of Heaven.

A day of civil disobedience. The aim was to shut down the G8. The strategy
was to attempt to breach the fortifications from a variety of positions. The
tactics were direct action. The first task was to break through the myriad
fortified police lines.

The strongest contingent was the Ya Basta grouping, numbering more than
10,000 militants. They used a previously successful tactic of wearing layers
of protective padding, helmets and using plastic shields to push through the
police lines. Some wore gas masks. The preparations began with talks and
then training sessions. Resembling an army preparing for war, men and women,
predominantly young and Italian spent all morning taping up their fragile
bodies with foam and padding. The atmosphere was tense, the mood defiant. It
really seemed anything was possible. There was an ecstatic mood of
celebration when we finally set off on the 4km march to the city centre. An
endless sea of bopping helmets, a vast array of flags of every hue and
colour, lead at the front by a long line of Ya Basta militants behind a wall
of plastic shields.

News filtered through from around the city. Bad news. That the Italian Trade
Union group COBAS had been beaten badly before they got close to their
target. In another part of the city, the Pink Block, a theatrical and
prankster group of several thousands had also suffered heavy repression. A
Women's Non-violent block had been attacked from the air by tear-gas firing
helicopters. A strong section of Anarchists and Autonomes had come close to
the Red Zone but was now being dispersed brutally. The Police were making
pre-emptive strikes with tear gas and batons on every block. Only a roaming
Black Block group is not getting pounded, as they indulge in property
destruction aimed at banks and multinational businesses. The only good news-
One elderly man had, remarkably, penetrated the Red-Zone before being
arrested!

Despite all the ominous reports, we swept down the wide boulevard
confidently- we are so many! Like an unstoppable river! So many people
prepared to use their bodies to break through, to defend themselves, to
struggle. 'El Pueblo Unido, Jamas Sera Vencido' they chanted. 'Genova
Libera!', 'E-Z-L-N!'. Rage Against The Machine blasted from the mobile
P.A. -Fuck You I Wont Do What You Tell Me! screamed along by thousands. It
was momentarily powerful and wonderful.

2km from the Red Zone, the police attacked us. First a frantic barrage of
tear-gas, lobbing over the front lines, deep into the heart of the
demonstration. Nobody here had gas masks. The poisonous gas first blinds
you, then hurts, and then disorientates you. It is immediate and
devastating. The people, packed in tightly, panicked and surged backwards.
The chaos was manic. 500 heavily armed Riot squad stormed the front lines.
In brutal scenes, the Ya Basta militants defense crumbled despite brave
resistance and they all got battered. People screamed, turned, fled, falling
over each other.

We retreated up the road. The sky was heavy with gas and helicopters hovered
overhead. A Watercannon blasted away, throwing bodies around like paper
bags. What now? People looked to the Ya Basta leadership in all this
horrible disarray but there was no Plan B. Silence from the microphone that
had being commanding us to follow their directions the whole march. People
retreated further and further, eventually sitting down. The Ya Basta leaders
told people to hold this space, this nowhere space 2km outside the city
centre signifying nothing. Meanwhile the frontlines struggled to hold on,
and the fighting was intense, the tear gas volleys raining down, the police
hitting out viciously, as the plastic shields shattered, the helmets
cracked. Injured people were rushed to the back, injuries to the head,
people who had been shot in the face with tear gas canisters.

We were defeated before having even begun The non-violent direct action
tactics, active defense crushed in the face of decisively brutal Police
tactics. As the majority of the march sat down further up the road,
thousands of others streamed off into the side streets. The right side was
blocked by the railway track, but the left side was a labyrinth of tight
chaotic enclosed streets. Open new fronts! Break through police lines at 2,
3, 4 different points! A couple of thousand people stormed into the side
streets. The Ya Basta loudspeaker requested people to stay put on the road,
far from the Red Zone.

In a beautiful old barrio, the battle raged. Protesters would charge up
tight streets flinging stones at the police lines. The police, protected
head to toe, amassed behind shields and flanked by armored vehicles,
responded with tear gas and by flinging back the rocks. The ferocious spirit
of the protesters rather than the paltry stones, pushed back the police
lines. Then barricades would be built, with dumpsters, cars, anything at
hand. The front lines would retreat nursing wounds and poisoned eyes. The
more seriously injured would be carried to ambulances. One man was carried
by with blood splurting from his eye where a canister had hit him. New
people rushed to the front, while others tore up the pavement for
ammunition. A tall Irish man fell back saying " We almost got through, we
almost did it, we just need a few more people!"

Another surge, everybody rushed forward on 2 or 3 different streets. Some
riot cops got stranded in their retreat and hand-to-hand fighting ensued.
The people fighting are not necessarily in black, some are masked. Some have
helmets. It is not the Black Block, and there are no agent provocateurs.
This is a militant energy driven by people who have said- Ya Basta!, fuck
the police, rage, energy, resolve.

They move forward; tear gas everywhere, the police retreating. An armored
vehicle is captured, the occupants flee. It is smashed up and set ablaze.
This armored Carabinieri truck, symbol of what they hate, the oppressive
state, is ablaze and everyone is cheering and filled with rebel joy. Someone
sprays 'We Are Winning!' on the side of the carcass of the armored beast.
Now they are almost in Piazza Alimondo. They are pushing the police back, 2,
3 blocks, the protesters are euphoric, storming forward, overwhelming the
despised carabinieri. Getting closer to the despised wall of the G8; here we
are, they chant, we resist!

Hundreds strong, they poured into the expansive Piazza Alimondo. Two police
vehicles drive recklessly into the crowd, one drives away, the other stalls;
people rush towards the vehicle. Then shots rang out. Rubber bullets? No,
the ominous thud of live ammunition. The air heaved. The protesters stopped,
reeled around, and fled.

Carlo Guiliani was 23 years old. A rebel. The papers belittled him, called
him a "ne'er do well," a bum, a hobo. But we know him as a comrade and a
revolutionary. He fought the paramilitary police bravely, fearlessly,
pitting the little streets against the great. He was involved In the Zapata
Social Centre of Genoa. Zapata lives. Carlo's death was not heroic, nor
tragic. It was the consequence of his life, how he lived, how he resisted.
Moments before he was shot in the face, Carlo probably felt the
extraordinary rebel joy of this spontaneous uprising against power in the
little side streets of Genoa. He died instantly, or when the police drove
over him, not once but twice, as if to make sure he was dead, really dead.
For the police, Carlo had to die. Now they must kill us, because we are
beginning to really threaten their power. Carlo was murdered. We are all
Carlo.

The Ghost of Pinochet. Saturday 21 July.

This is how the police work. It is Saturday afternoon and there are as many
as 200,000 people marching on Genoa against the G8. It is not a combative
march. As they swing onto the seafront, a group of agent provocateurs began
throwing stones at the police. These are undercover cops, or secret police,
or mercenaries or nazi's. They are used by the police same way the
paramilitaries are used by the state in Chiapas or Belfast, or even how they
used them in Italy in the 1970's. The police want to pick the time and place
of the confrontation. They are ready and prepared. This was planned.
This is how the Police work: a few stones fall harmlessly into their ranks
and they open up with tear-gas. The canisters fly deep into the multitude,
immediately creating panic and chaos. People flee, young and old, babes in
arms, but there are too many people, nowhere to run, they are hemmed in and
poisoned from the gas. It is horrific.

This is how the people resist. The militants stream through the crowd to the
front. There they attempt to build barricades, hold back the advancing cops.
The sky fills with stones. They hold the police and the people behind have a
few moments more to retreat. Those who needed to get away from the zone
could. The Communist party stewards directed people away. But a lot of
people stayed, indignant that the demonstration could be so brutally
dispersed even before it could get to the piazza. This could have been a
dignified march of 200, 000. Now it is in chaos, and battle once more rages
on the streets of Genoa. Now is the hour of the Black Block and the
insurrectionary anarchists. All afternoon the streets were mad with
tear-gas, with stones, with burning banks, burning cars, barricades. The air
was shrill with screams, of beatings and violence and fear.

Eventually the rioters were driven back. The police advanced ferociously,
beating random people, indiscriminately. In a most surreal scene, cops in
grey overalls beat up people on the beach, the Italian Riviera, while
bathers looked on. Police in small boats launched tear-gas onto the beach. A
helicopter overhead fired gas into the fleeing hordes. Further up, people
jumped off the rocks into the sea. The demonstrators were beaten back every
inch to the edge of town.

The huge march ended in absolute mayhem. Let it be recorded- 200,000 overtly
peaceful protesters were not allowed to demonstrate. "The Genoa Social Forum
favored and covered the Black Block," said Berlusconi by way of explanation
the next day. We are all guilty. We are all Carlo Giulliani.

At midnight, the next police operation began. We were eating in a restaurant
near the Indymedia Centre. The quiet residential street was silent, the
neighborhood sleeping.

A long line of heavily armored men rushed by, masked and with their batons
swinging. In single file, silent but for the thumping of their boots on the
pavement. A young women collapsed into the restaurant, hyperventilating from
the shock of been pushed over by the cops as they stomped by. The next
moment, a fleet of armored police vehicles rushed by. Then a helicopter
shattered the night sky. Finally, a long line of ambulances blasting their
sirens passed by. All this in a couple of minutes, a surgical strikes on the
movement's offices. The police were extracting revenge.

They crashed through the front gates of the Indymedia Centre in an armored
truck, then smashed up the computers, confiscated files and film and broke
cameras and terrorized the occupants. Across the road in the school building
being used by the Genoa Social Forum as offices and a dormitory for people
who felt unsafe in the camping grounds, the real horror occurred. Police and
plain-clothes cops entered, reportedly from the special paramilitary police
unit called GOM, and attacked everyone inside. Most were asleep on the
floor. 93 people were horribly injured, as the police closed the door and
inflicted heavy punishment. Scores of people were eventually carried out on
stretchers. Pools of blood remained on the floor, streaks of blood across
the walls.

Attacks on property cannot be equated to the legions of broken limbs, broken
teeth, broken ribs and damaged craniums that a squad of police men inflicted
on a somnambulant group of weary protesters as they lay on the floor of a
school. These men were following orders. Those who gave the orders get their
general directives from a higher authority. The blame for this state terror
lies at the feet of Berlusconi's regime, and ultimately, the G8. This is why
we protest the G8. This is why comrades move from protest to resistance. The
midnight attack on the school and Indymedia, the ensuing torture of the
prisoners afterwards, was an attempt to terrorize the movement, to inflict
extra-judiciary punishment on activists, and to instill mind-numbing fear
within the hearts and souls of protesters. In many ways, it was successful-
Saturday night in Genoa was one of widespread fear and terror.

At the Carlini Stadium, bastion of the Ya Basta movement, the officials
ordered an immediate evacuation. "Like Saigon.." reported one eyewitness.
Hundreds of other activists not present were left stranded. Plain-clothes
police swarmed in, and criminals were allowed in to rummage through peoples'
belongings. All over Genoa that night, people fled from the Camping sites to
roam the streets and alleys and back lanes of the city in fear, hunted like
escaped convicts. It was the longest night. Eventually dawn came, but
everything had changed.

Genoa was gutted. No city will host the G8 for a while. 34 banks burnt. 83
vehicles both police and civilian, destroyed, 41 businesses torched or
looted, 6 supermarkets, 12 government offices. Some protesters believe that
hitting economic targets of the enemy is the most effective tactic. (No
buses were burnt apparently because the bus drivers union was in solidarity
with the protesters, ferrying everyone around for free the whole week).
Genoa in ruins, the G8 left quietly with a few promises to give some money
to Africa. Berlusconi blamed, not just the Black Block and the anarchists,
but the whole movement, rendering any distinction obsoletes. The Genoa
Social Forum uncovered damning evidence of police collusion with agent
provocateurs, and the inquiries into the night of terror at the school and
the denunciations of torture afterwards continued unrelenting.

200 people were arrested, 600 injured. In the jails, the protesters were
tortured while police mocked them with pictures of Mussolini and Nazi's.
They tortured them, as they have done in Seattle, Prague and Quebec. They
tortured them as they did in Pinochet's Chile, in Argentina, everywhere to
terrorize activists when the movement begins to unsettle power. To destroy
the movement by spreading panic and fear and horror. To break the back of
the militants of this totally unarmed global protest movement.

*

A lovely tree filled piazza deep in the heart of Genoa. A pile of flowers.
An endless flow of citizens passes by to pay their respects at the site of
Carlo's murder. A memorial across the road at the side of an old church is
overflowing with little gifts and offerings. Che Guevara dominates, amidst
black flags and red flags and green flags, candles and flowers, cigarettes,
beer bottles, tear gas canisters, Zapatista scarves, sunglasses, gloves,
Lots of notes and poems and good-bye letters from his friends. A photo of
Carlo with his school class. He is the one with the shoulder length hair and
the Fuck Nike T-shirt. Politically conscious at 16. People weep gently. 2
squatter girls tie up a banner with the help of a posh older lady. A Mexican
woman offers clasps from her coat to secure the banner. We with our hands,
it read, they with their guns.

Someone else leaves a poem, Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 18. 'Shall I compare
thee to a summers day?' On a summers day in Genoa, July 20, Carlo fell. Let
the July 20 Movement flourish."