The general assembly meetings draw a dozen or so people each Wednesday to the courthouse steps. (Georgia Perry)
On a mild day in May, a small group of Occupiers gather on the Santa Cruz County Courthouse lawn. The scene resembles a particularly disheveled church picnic, with oranges, tortilla chips and snow peas laying in torn-open bags on a collapsible table. Folks chat, some frolic. Some chalk a rainbow of defiance and hopscotch onto the sidewalk.
“We can’t do this in the Benchlands anymore,” says Casey Livingood, referring to the area in San Lorenzo Park where he and others set up the initial camp last October. Police in riot gear ousted the camp on the morning of Dec. 8, effectively taking out the local headquarters. “We face a lawsuit for public nuisance if we return.” The recent UCSC graduate gestures toward a line of police officers standing stiffly behind the courthouse building’s glass façade.
Intending to set up tents for an afternoon of protest and play, the two dozen Occupiers were warned by police when they arrived: no structures allowed. Brent Adams, an organizer of the event and one of seven still facing charges stemming from the takeover of a vacant Wells Fargo bank downtown, tests the boundaries of that warning as the day wears on, building increasingly structure-like assemblages of bamboo and tarp. By evening, a handful of tents are scattered across the lawn, and colorful epithets, anarchist A’s and a lone heart have been scrawled up the steps and across the courthouse doors.
“If we’re not doing things like this, we’re attacking each other,” says Adams, a roguish 47-year-old. He comes across as impish and affable in his worn black tailcoat. He mentions a recent blowup at one of the twice-weekly general assembly meetings. “We don’t all necessarily have the same politics. But we do have the same enemies.”
Disagreements arise regularly. “We’re not immune from the psychological problems that affect the rest of our community,” Ed Frey says a few days later at one such assembly meeting. The 72-year-old, with straw hat, grizzled white beard and dark sunglasses, appears disgruntled. “We are strongly affected by the anarchist movement, which focuses on total self-reliance. That separates us from a lot of the 99 percent. Most here don’t want to engage with the government at all. I think we need more dialogue.”
Freedom Bridges, a lively 22-year-old with a slightly upturned nose and a bushel of blonde hair, echoes Frey’s frustration, though she sits on the other side of the ideological divide. “We don’t want to exclude people. But we have to be unafraid of civil disobedience,” she says. “Anarchist principles are what make this unique and allow us to retain control, but they also keep the movement from broadening.”
“I think the general assembly is crumbling a bit,” Bridges continues. “Those meetings have become more and more concerned with the dynamics of the group and less on action and core issues.”
That frustration and fragmenting is not exclusive to Santa Cruz. Across the country, general assemblies have struggled to remain a foundation in an increasingly decentralized movement. But out of that disjunction, community organizations and Occupy splinter groups have begun to thrive.
“That is a grassroots movement in itself,” Adams says. “I’m sad about the health of our general assembly.” He pauses, considering his words. “Empires crumble” is written in blue chalk at his feet. “I think I’m trying to go back to the original model. But all those working groups are accomplishing a lot.”
A sound system carted by bike has arrived, and Adams quickly pulls himself away to join in a game of hopscotch, long black coattails bouncing behind him. {pagebreak}
‘Just the Spark’
Last fall, Occupy camps ignited like kitchen fires in cities across the country, rousing anarchists, activists and idealistic students, among others, and creating a communal space for many more homeless.
Many who joined in caught a glimpse of a participatory democratic movement taking rather messy shape. “Ultimately, that is what we are trying to build,” says Jed Brandt, an editor and publisher of Occupy-related media in New York. “I think we are far better as a people than our current mechanisms allow us to be.”
Much of the movement’s momentum arose from pushing a simple idea front-and-center: One percent of the country should not live at the expense of the other 99 percent. Grand solutions were never part of any plan.
“People expect to be led,” says Michael Levitin, print editor for Occupy.com. “It’s frustrating. They’re waiting for us to emerge with a blueprint for society. But we’re just the spark.”
In the last few months, the movement appears to have lost steam. In November, 40,000 people responded to Occupy’s call for a general strike in the Bay Area. Only 5,000 responded to the same call May 1.
“We didn’t come roaring back with a new agenda,” Levitin says. He admits that there has been some lost momentum. “We were hit hard by police, and by new laws aimed against us.”
In Santa Cruz, a rotating cast of around 15 still attend general assembly meetings, down from the 50 or so that gathered in the fall. While an activist core continues to animate the group, Occupy Santa Cruz has grown decidedly insular, with little interest in any of the nationally-coordinated Occupy actions taking place this summer. “I know Santa Cruz is active,” Levitin says. “They’re just hard to get a hold of.”
Wearied from repeated police raids at dawn, cold nights in camp, persistent disorganization and criminal charges stemming from the bank takeover, many in the group have turned their attention to more personal and visible injustices closer to home.
But with a reluctance to engage local government and little coordination or strategy, some wonder what sort of impact the Occupy movement will continue to have here and on the national stage. Appealing to public anger over wealth disparities has carried the movement so far. But without a strong blueprint or vision to inspire more people, can the movement continue to capture the sympathies and energy of local communities and become the grassroots democratic movement it hopes to be?
We’re kind of floating right now,” Frey says. “Some are real high on direct action in the community. Others want to focus on big picture reforms. We’re split up a bit. There’s no real focus.”
While feuds and ideological schisms have become entrenched in Occupy Oakland, with advocates of nonviolence literally wrestling window-smashers in the street, Frey still believes the group in Santa Cruz can find more common ground by summer’s end.
But Occupy Santa Cruz seems less interested in having its own existential debate than in sustaining the struggle.
While Occupy groups in other cities have focused on critical issues close to home—public transportation and campaign finance reform in Boston, for example—most of the recent activity in Santa Cruz has revolved around our two most basic needs: food and shelter.{pagebreak}
Craving Change
“Healthy, affordable food should be a right, not a privilege,” L. Roxanne Evans declares. Seven members of the Occupy Santa Cruz Food Justice Coalition have just sat down at SubRosa, an anarchist café and community space downtown to discuss holding a “plant-in”—taking over an unused lot and turning it into a vegetable garden.
“This is now and public,” Evans says. But she’s worried the plan could devolve into another property rights controversy. She mentions public backlash from the takeover of the vacant bank, which a splinter group from the Occupy camp had intended to turn into a community center.
“We need support from the community first,” Evans says. “I want to be able to barge in the front door, not have to sneak in the back.”
Three separate foreclosure groups have also spun out of the local Occupy and begun pioneering their own projects.
After weeks spent lobbying local officials to place a moratorium on foreclosures in the county, the initial Occupy Santa Cruz foreclosure group realized they needed a new tactic.
“State and federal laws handcuff local governments from doing anything about this,” Joy Hinz says. “So now we’re going to the state.”
The “Homeowner Bill of Rights,” a collection of six bills intended to give the state more leeway in how mortgages are regulated and help ease the burden on homeowners, is wrapping up in committee. “Those bills look extremely weakened coming out,” Hinz says. “It’s the same routine. Power and money make the rules. It’s sickening!”
Hinz is hoping the state will pass a law similar to one in Nevada requiring an affidavit of authority to proceed on foreclosures. “The banks have no idea where the deeds are,” she says. “They sold mortgages off in pieces.” Foreclosures in Nevada have dropped dramatically since the law was put into effect.
“We are still an Occupy foreclosure group. We’re just not with Occupy Santa Cruz anymore,” Hinz says, citing dysfunction in the general assembly as the main reason for leaving. “They only want to work outside the system. But after eight months marching in the streets, it’s pretty clear to me that primarily leads to oppression. For that type of protest to work, you have to get 99 percent of the people on board. You have to have major pressure, and that’s not happening.”
Jacqueline Seydel was also a part of the Occupy Santa Cruz foreclosure group before it split, but decided to concentrate on organizing her fellow students at UCSC, though not officially under the Occupy banner.
Over the summer, the student group is planning to investigate court records for signs of illegal foreclosures in Santa Cruz County. “I’m hoping that if enough volunteers do this across the state, there could be a large civil court case against the banks,” Seydel says.
She initially rejected the idea of working with local officials. “People say that legitimizes the system, but the system is already legitimized. I think we need a diversity of tactics. We’re all working to better the world in our own autonomous ways. We’re still occupying. I think we all need to imagine new realities and try to make as many of them happen as possible.”
Another anti-foreclosure group, recently arising out of Occupy Santa Cruz to replace Hinz’s departed group, is bent on a more provocative approach—occupying houses with the consent of homeowners fighting what they deem to be illegal foreclosures.
“It is very important to focus locally,” says Mithrell Bowerman, who attends general assembly meetings on occasion. “We want to connect with our community and try to meet some of the needs around us that aren’t being met.”{pagebreak}
Looking Ahead
In New York, Michael Levitin believes the movement will come back strong. “Everyone is wondering its fate. If there’s no spectacle in the street, no police brutality, people think nothing is happening. There’s nothing tangible that the media can grab onto.” Levitin says they are still figuring it all out. “We just need to reignite the spirit. But if this is going to be anything other than a moment in time when an alarm bell went off, it needs to be a national movement.”
Occupiers in Santa Cruz don’t seem to operate with Levitin’s sense of urgency or unifying vision, content to continue working on local issues and let the movement unfold as it will.
“Occupy is the beginning of a lot of different things,” says Bowerman. “There are tons of projects happening across the country. For an individual, I think it’s about finding your own niche. The important thing here is we got to meet each other.”
Critics see a diffused, chaotic movement. Though there is truth in that, many believe important connections have been made in the activist community, foundations that can be built upon when the next spark catches.
Meanwhile, Occupy groups around the country are still forging ahead. “This summer is going to be a defining moment,” says Levitin. “The next few months will determine whether Occupy will continue looking forward or looking back at its glory days come the one-year anniversary.”
Occupy Santa Cruz is looking forward too, head down, determined to make new realities right here at home.
