I sit on the hard marble floor of the elegant Wisconsin State Capitol building, listening to America The Beautiful, God Bless America and other "patriotic" songs being sung by about 50 rightwing Walker supporters, the newly formed "We've Got A Permit Singers." They want to teach the Lefties a lesson. The Solidarity Sing Along, as they always do, has moved outside due to the other group's permit to use the rotunda space. Everyone should be happy: the day is lovely, sunny, with an edge of autumnal coolness bringing a subtle melancholy. The quantitative differences of the dueling singing groups are simple to determine, but the qualitative differences are what fascinate me.
The peace has a sharp edge of tension due to the anxiety about possible antagonism between Walker supporters and Walker protestors. That's life in Walker's "divide and conquer" Wisconsin, where agonistic teams are locked in binary tension, singing similar songs with very different lyrics. Conflict brings the media like fish-guts bring seagulls, and there are more cameras, microphones and media nametags than I have witnessed in a long time. Clusters of Capitol Police dot the rotunda, black wasps on walls, waiting to buzz. The "We've Got A Permit Singers" have retrofitted some of their songs to talk about lazy unionists and whiney liberals. Last night, there was a lot of Facebook chatter about Conceal Carry and packing heat. They want the Lefties to know that they are armed and ready, though I am not sure what they hope for or fear. It is curious to me how the 1st and 2nd Amendments are now used as oppositional rhetorical signifiers, with each Amendment representing a different polarizing force as well as fierce cohesive formations. Guns play mightily in the Patriots' America. Trombones play mightily outside in the Progressives'.
The "Patriots" have reduced Woody Guthrie's classic This Land Is Your Land to grim cleverness:
This land is my land, it is not your land
I got a shotgun, and you ain't got none.
If you don't get out, I'll let my dogs out
This land is private proper-TEE!
This is a real crowd pleaser and a wild cheer goes up when it is over. Cleverness is the hole through which truths are revealed.
I sit on my edge of travertine pedestal lost in my writing. To my right, I suddenly notice a nervous movement of police. The black wasps swarm and huddle, a quick buzzing of confirmation. A man in front of me, someone I hadn't noticed, is their target. He is standing still, but holding a small sign. It says "Article 1, Section 4." That is all it says, but refers to the passage in the Wisconsin Constitution that states
"The right of the people peaceably to assemble, to consult for the common good, and to petition the government, or any department thereof, shall never be abridged." The police swarm on him. I'm up with my camera before I can think. I love the irony. You can't legally hold a sign expressing your inherent right to hold that sign.
They grab the guy's coke can and sign, fumble with both. He says, "Relax! I'll give you my Coke!" and sets it down on the wide handrail. No one talks as they quickly drag the guy away. I asked the cops why they were arresting him. Everyone is so tense. It is so ridiculous. "Disorderly Conduct!" a short policeman snarls in my face, then says "Get back from here!" I back away, gather my computer, and leave the building to the loud chants of "Two. Four. Six. Eight! Who do we appreciate? Walker, Walker, WALKER!" The cries of approval echo in repeating swirls through the marbled halls of power as I move through the dim hallway towards the outside light.
Under the massive oaks, a group of 200 revelers sing and dance polka. They are having fun. Loose and loud, three trombones slide their brash brass, while some drums and guitars fill in the rhythm. A talented fiddle player calls out numbers, and everyone picks up a new song as he fiddles madly. It is all so colorful! One provocateur stands in the middle of the massive unbroken circle, calls out offensive phrases about body odor and union pigs, but everyone just ignores him. He is very aggressive, but everyone sings on and dances around him. There is a distant police presence, though the wasps aren't stinging yet. That is saved for tomorrow or the next day, or the day after that. Today, everyone sings and dances, and after making a round photographing the amazing jamboree, I notice that even the provocateur has gotten caught up in a rapid polka. There is a smile on his face, rapt, as he twirls under the oaks arm in arm with an attractive activist. There is real joy out here. I'm glad to be under the oaks under the blue sky under the sun with these dancing, happy people.
Back in the capitol, the "We've Got A Permit Singers" are wrapping up. They hand out Twinkies as some kind of ironic comment on union busting. "Twinkies represent American resilience" their leader says. He mentions that he "doesn't plan to come back anytime soon." They've proven their somewhat mirthless point - that permits are easy to get, and you can still sing. Sadly, they've lost the more important point asserted by that pesky Article 1, Section 4, of the State Constitution - the awkward stuff about "rights to peaceably assemble shall never be abridged." I think of the man with the coke can, frog-marched down to the basement, arrested for the unlawful audacity of holding that very reminder.
Tomorrow, the Solidarity Singers will be back. They'll sing again in the rotunda. A lot of them will be arrested. They've been doing this for two years now, and they will continue until they decide to stop. Their ranks, once dwindled to scant handfuls, are swelling. They will continue to sing each noon hour of the work day, out of joy and stubbornness and humor and concern for the state of the State.
The fiddler and two guitarists are still singing some songs as I put away my camera and laptop. People are talking about the event - it was like being at some revival meeting or county fair. I stuff the spongy Twinkie that I was handed into the side of my bag. I can't imagine eating it, but it seems like some kind of important relic of the day. The leader of the Tea Party group said that the new Twinkies "represent American resilience." Hmmm, I think to myself. The Solidarity Sing Along might be able to teach us something about that!