Reflections on Marching for “Their” Lives: a Lost Opportunity for Seattle

After posting pictures of the Seattle march, of course friends asked what it was like?; what did I think?; what did I feel?  I had been nattering to myself about it in any case; now such questions forced me to articulate the musings that bothered me last night and this morning.

The powerful Washington and New York marches filed moving images and stirring words, they had emotional punch.  Our march, for me at least, offered few if any of those.  Naturally, it was smaller, but moreover, as we moved onto five-lanes-wide 4^th Ave, the crowd spaced itself out both in width and length so we lost that tight mass that impresses on-lookers and energizes marchers, that sense of solidarity and impact.  We sort of ambled along.  Efforts to get chants started faded away after a few repetitions.  By 4^th Ave, I could move freely through the crowd, chasing signs that intrigued me (especially those most disparaging “the predator in chief.”)

The morning Times and the local TV coverage have made no attempt to gauge the size of the crowd; “several thousand” they said, as if embarrassed by an under-whelming turnout. Crosscut estimated “more than 50,000.” (Crosscut's coverage had the right focus: on the kids. Google it up; this program doesn't allow me to link.)

 

The signs and chants were mainly generic, almost clichés: Never Again; Ban Assault Weapons; Guns Are Not School Supplies; NRA, Go Away.  All worthy, but none Seattle-specific.

But they weren't saying much . ..

When we arrived at Seattle Center, on the “mall” adjacent to Key Arena and the International Fountain, we milled about aimlessly.  On stage was a Shoreline High guitarist; in interludes, Bob Dillon songs from the ‘70’s were being played; a woman student from some school or other sang.  

After half an hour or so, I headed for restrooms in the Armory, which was packed with folks lined up at every food stall looking for lunch.  The stragglers were still arriving.  Eventually, Governor Inslee spoke glowingly about turning the state over to the youngsters, but murkily about gun controls.  Some students spoke, but much of the crowd missed them.  Voter registration was urged. But whatever end-of-march focus and energy the organizers hoped to have had long since been lost.

My estimation: a set of lost opportunities.  The energy and anticipation we felt at Cal Anderson Park (where Attorney General Bob Ferguson had spoken passionately about how Washington State lags others re high capacity magazines and assault rifles) dissipated step by step.  We needed more marshals to keep the mass dense when we reached the wide downtown boulevards.  At the end of march rally, we needed vibrant calls for local, specific actions – action by the City Council (which has discussed constraints on gun purchase and ownership), by the King County Council (which is ambivalent), by the State Legislature (which is hog-tied.)  If there were such calls, most of us never heard them.  The papers and broadcasters never reported them.

True believers will charge me an impatient, hyper-critical, cynical old fart.  And it would be cruelly facile to say the march fizzled.  But, undeniably, opportunities were lost.