1. Kate Reports

Well, despite what you may have heard on the news today, not everyone in Seattle devoted their day to random acts of vandalism and graffiti. I spent the bulk of my day outside the Roosevelt Hotel at Union and Seventh as part of a human barricade blocking delegates from entering the Convention Centre. This action was designed to stall WTO negotiations and was...successful! In conjunction with various other barricades stationed around the Convention Center, we managed to delay the opening day of negotiations by five and a half hours. Based on the fact that WTO members had not yet settled on the topics up for negotiation in the Millennium Round prior to starting talks, this delay will ideally further the lack of coherence in shaping the new round.

What made this protest unique was the peaceful atmosphere (which my parents will no doubt value even more than I do) as well as the use of consensus in all decisions made in strategizing while on the site. Peace was kept by reminders to those in direct contact with violent delegates (and yes, they do indeed exist!) to "be nice" and keep the action "non-violent." We managed to keep the police on our side and even cheered them on for their cooperation in our expression of physical and verbal resistance to the WTO. While many other protesters engaged in misguided and essentially counter-productive behavior which continues as we type these reports, I feel that our participation in peaceful protests has been exceedingly effective in stalling the WTO's new round. Just do the math: at ten o'clock this morning only 25 of over 135 delegates were present in the first meeting of the Seattle ministerial. In activist terms, that's progress.

2. Jonathan and Yuill Report

5 am. Wake up after a few hours sleep. No breakfast. Stumbled out into the pouring rain, forget jacket but there is no going back. Yuill remembers his.

Two days of engaging, talking and diplomacy fails. Civil disobedience becomes the gesture of those who have nowhere else to turn.

Thousands of activists have taken over the market for a briefing session. No mango and bread this morning.

Our march advances into rush hour traffic. Strange that there are no police. Protestors stop the traffic. Menacing four-wheel-drives often don't stop. Minutes later the Convention Center is surrounded and trade delegates are blocked outside.

Anita Roddick is on the front line and feeds us nuts and raisins for breakfast. John Vidal from The Guardian is there too. Complaining about timid US activists and that we don't have a lighter.

Two hours are spent sitting with linked arms, the riot police forming a double line in front of us. At one point a tank backs them up with tear gas and rubber bullets. They begin to move forward. We chant that this is a non-violent protest. And then we chant the world is watching. There are many TV cameras in between us and the police. Our hearts are pounding. The legal aid passes out the phone number to call when we are arrested. After some time the police back up.

The rain comes off and on and it's cold. But the worst is our need to go to the bathroom. The purpose is to shut down the WTO. In order to do this every road entrance around the trade center has to be closed. We turn back numerous trade representatives. Later we hear that the morning sessions were cancelled and in the afternoon, 200-person meetings were filled with just 25 people.

We buy some cookies, one dollar each. Then we go scouting.

A long thin alley that minutes earlier was blocked with riot police is now empty. Bewildered, hesitant, we explore. Twice we turned back, then changed our minds. No mistaking that we are entering the secured zone that hundreds of riot police are protecting with tanks. No point pretending, we are both petrified. Amateurish police blockades of large rubbish containers are easy to jump and we are in. It is exhilarating to realize we are behind the lines. A few press people mingle about. We do our best to appear like press, constantly holding the camera to our face. But it is all too easy. The police are too busy with the protesters' lines to notice our lack of official documentation.

Few tenacious yet cautious steps are transformed by the sound of gun fire. Tear gas is pouring around the corner. We are on the run, so too are a handful of cameramen and journalists with credentials that legitimate their presence on the inside.

I mumble something as we stumble past John Vidal, he doesn't register. Yuill tries again, affectionately hitting him.

"Hey, what's happening?"

Tear gas speaks for itself. Crazy, but we change direction straight into the almost romantic midst.

"Bastards...oh fuck, bastards, bastards."

John Vidal is not happy. You have to spit all the liquid out of your mouth as it is burning. And you want to close your eyes because of the pain, a stinging, burning feeling. Yuill is suffering too, chocking badly and so am I. He stops, uncertain if he can go on. But when he pulls his shirt over his nose and mouth he moves on. We arrive at the place where the tear gas was released. The digital camera records the damage. Four police cars, wheels slashed, windows smashed and plastered with graffiti. Police reinforcements arrive, some hanging off a tank, all resembling Robocop. We hear later that the police had advanced on the line of people with three cars and their tank. The people had surrounded the car, slashed the tires and driven them back. The tank, which they call a "peacekeeper," is a heavily armored car.

Wandering about, we notice a steady stream of delegates coming from an entrance that the blockade had missed. We decide to return to the outside to tell the coordinators about it. Perhaps they can direct some forces. On the way out a policeman asks us for our passes. Of course we have none. Bewildered as to how we got in, he directs us out immediately. Outside we discover another protest. Eight to ten people with their arms cemented together. They are going nowhere fast. Already the police have tear-gassed them three times, surrounding them and spraying their faces. Sometimes they even lifted the protester's gas masks off their faces to spray them more directly. But they held strong.

In other places the blockades were more peaceful, with banners, posters, costumes, huge puppets and drums. The people held their line, the police held theirs and the delegates did not pass.

It is noon, four hours of protesting and our survey of the blockades reveals they are holding strong. This is a true testimony to the organization behind the direct non violent action.

We discover yet another protest, blocking a main intersection. Thirty people are in circle, their arms chained together in black PVC tube. The police cannot cut the tubes with the possibility of damaging the protester's arms.

We decide to return home to recharge batteries and recoup. On the way, we encounter two more protests, people chained and bike-locked together. Our respect for the organizers climbs and climbs.

Then the truly crazy stuff begins. We are back at a blockade. The police move forward. The protesters sit down. The police fire pepper spray at the crouched people and step forward over them. We try and get pictures with the digital camera. The captured protesters link arms and legs. The police use their wooden sticks to separate the people, sometimes violently hitting them. Some people are thrown back over the line and some are carried away to be arrested. We are shocked at the violence of the police and so are most others.

Sometime later, we hear loud booms, like bombs going off. In true journalistic fashion, we run to the source. Violence has erupted. Hundreds of people are facing off against a line of riot police. The police are firing rubber bullets, tear gas and pepper spray into the crowd. Protesters with masks and paint on their skin grab the tear gas canisters as they land and toss them back into the ranks of the police. Then the protesters light a dumpster on fire. The air is filled with gas, fire and rubber bullets. We are on side, trying to take pictures of this. It is like a war zone. One person goes down under the rubber bullets in front of us. After a bit he crawls to safety. Jonathan is in the thick of it, unknowingly, trying to get pictures. I notice the police turning their attention to the side where we are and yell a warning. We try to get out but there are too many people. We cannot move. The police fire pepper spray which directly hits us. It is a pain beyond pain. We stagger through the crowd, leaning on each other, blinded and truly convulsing in pain. The Direct Action medics are there, telling us to close our eyes and directing us to help. Water is all that I think of and they pour it on our faces. They dab our faces with ointments. We begin to see again and the pain subsides to a bearable level. It lasted half an hour. After this we head home. But the protests escalate.

Later in the night, the protests have been broken up by extensive use of tear gas and pepper spray. The last stand is driven up the road beside the apartment we are staying in. From the roof we get footage of the events below. The protest has turned nasty, several hundred young people who call themselves anarchists have been causing property damage and generally promoting violence.

This was not a good scene.

Next stop was the Direct Action meeting. Their professionalism was amazing -- with lawyers advising, medics and coordinators. It was truly an impressive effort. And their motivation seemed pure.

It is now two in the morning and there are still sounds of tear gas canisters in the streets and helicopters flying overhead.

What shall happen tomorrow?

3. Diane Reports

Having grown up in Canada, I have never experienced first-hand such chaos. It was probably around noon time when I felt the burning and choking sensation of tear gas in my eyes and lungs. With swat teams geared in padding, gas masks, and holding batons and me feeling scared, I was wishing that I was anywhere but there, when I had a somewhat obvious, but delayed, realization. Before coming here, I was aware of all the issues surrounding the WTO, but today made it all the more real. I felt like it was my duty to stay and not run. My presence among all the craziness was purposeful. In a line of sitting peaceful protesters, facing a line of expressionless swat police, people were shouting out the names of the places where they were from. The diversity of ages and races and origins of protesters made me feel that even though we were "suffering" and experiencing the discomfort of tear gas, we had no choice but to stick it out.

4. Regina Reports

It was amazing to see the diversity of interest groups represented, each voicing their particular message yet all opposing global corporatization and liberalized trade from some stance. The range in ages and backgrounds was also good to see. Most of the demonstrations were peaceful and non-confrontational, yet still definitely making a strong statement. The affinity groups were organized and successful and managed to keep the majority of delegates out. Lock-outs, chants, dancing, singing, human chains...but also itchy throats, teary eyes, stiff arms, burning cheeks. Highs and lows, smiles and scary moments, but always an adrenaline rush. Later, once the "state of civil emergency" was officially announced and the real protestors began to dissipate due to the curfew imposed and the increasing threat of aggressive tactics from the police, things turned sour. That's when the chaos turned into riots and involved mostly people who were not necessarily informed or committed to the real issues behind the WTO protest. And unfortunately, this is largely what was captured by the media and featured in the news which is disappointing to those who put so much effort into resisting violent measures. Also the underlying reasons of why we were present weren't emphasized by the media. But the overall feeling was one of satisfaction and accomplishment, and there's still lots more to come.

5. Jen Reports

Try dealing with a Mission Impossible spy-type atmosphere at 5 am! By 6 we (we being 700 in a studio with a fire marshal for 157) had gathered to begin our strategically planned day of action. By strategically I mean pre-football, chalkboard-type "Sections A-C go through to 8th & Pike, D and F go to 7th & Seneca while E creates a diversion so 'the Lockdowns' can secure before police come in, etcetera, etcetera." It was crazy! We snuck down before dawn. We started to stop the traffic on a main drag, meanwhile other 'sectors' of our plan did the same at other intersections and entrances of the conference center. Our object was to keep the delegates OUT. "The Lockdowns" chained themselves around the neck with Ubike locks and by other interesting methods. One angry blocked driver hit a guy and almost ran over another girl. Next, the riot squad came to visit with pepper spray and clubs. Fortunately, there was a lot of medic help and everyone who was sprayed and beaten was taken care of immediately. This intense type thing happened twice at our intersection. I am very happy to report that by the end of the day we had police support and they were helping us to keep delegates out of that entrance.

6. Hillary Reports

I was afraid after yesterday's violence and gassing that the streets of Seattle would simply remain deserted today (the police issued a statement that any protesters found in the downtown core would be arrested). I don't think anybody was ready for what happened instead. It was difficult to get anywhere today. The national guard has been called in and there are police EVERYWHERE. Around three this afternoon, we (Kate, Yuill, Diane and I) came upon a crowd of protesters (about 500 strong)marching through the city that had managed to avoid the police. It was AMAZING. We joined the march and as we made our way through the city streets people joined from all sides. By the end we numbered about 2000. The march was completely peaceful and made up of people who were concerned and determined that the message of the protests not be lost. I was thrilled, (and naive in retrospect), that the police had allowed the demonstrations to continue peacefully. As the march passed a blockade of police officers they suddenly started to fire tear gas into the crowd. People were panicking and running, civilians on the street were getting overwhelmed by the gas as well as protesters. I thought the march was over. We were forced down a side street where we saw something that I will never forget. Coming over the hill from one direction and down a street from another were two cheering crowds of protesters. It was awesome. The police weren't so enthusiastic. Each time the crowd gathered together, the police would blockade us off and fire tear gas again and again and again. Eventually, overwhelmed by gas we took shelter in a restaurant. We went out again later and found a crowd confronting the police that was soon forced apart again (at least temporarily) by gas. And, once again, with burning eyes and choking, we took shelter in the same restaurant and watched what was happening outside on television. There are definitely some very hardcore protesters here in Seattle who refuse to be silenced. Last I heard over 400 had been arrested. And the police just keep on gassing the crowds. I'm still trying to figure out what I thought of today. In one sense it was very upsetting, terrifying (I won't deny that I was pretty scared at some points), and defeating. It felt like the city was a battle ground and that the real message would be lost in the clouds of tear gas. In another stranger sense, it was exciting and somehow empowering. I have never been a part of anything even close to this in my life. The spirit of the protesters is peaceful and strong. I'm proud to be a part of it.

Taken from Adbusters at www.adbusters.org