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eyewitnesses
Genova 7/20
By Starhawk (eyewitness)
At this point its still not clear to me how many are actually dead. Ive heard one young man, Ive hear d two, four. Ive heard that the police shot into the crowd, that someone was clubbed to the ground and, unconscious, run over by a car, Ive heard it was the White Overalls, the Black Bloc, I dont know. I know what I saw. The day started as a spirited, peaceful demonstration. I was on the Piazza Manini with the Womens Action and Rette Lilliput, a religious ecological network. Both groups were completey commited to nonviolence. My friend and training partner Lisa Fithian was down at the convergence center with the pink block, the group that wanted to do creative, fun, street theater, dancing and music as part of their action. Lisa is a great person to be with in an action: sheàs experienced, never panics, moves fast and knows what to llok for, has a voice that can carry over a huge crowd and a great ability to move people. I wish she were going to be with us, but I feel like weàve divided our talents well. Ill help move the smaller Womens contingent, help them with ritual and work some magic. Lisa will help the much larger and boisterous Pink Bloc become mobile an dcoherent. We hope to meet up sometime during the day. Around 1 pm, the women march from the piazza down to the wall with probably three or four thousand people. The women gather in a circle for a spiral dance, singing "Siamo la luna che move la marea," "We are the moon that moves the tides, we will change the world with our ideas." We brew up a lovely magical cauldrona big pot full of water from sacred places and whatever else women want to add: rose petals, a hair or two, tobacco from a cigarette., that symbolize the visions we hold of a different world. Its a sweet, symbolic actionnot quite as satisfying, perhaps, as tearing the wall down, but empowering to the women who take part. The police are relaxed, these groups are clearly no threat to anyone. Monica negotiates with the police, and we are allowed to go up to the wall in small groups to pin up underwear(residents of the Red Zone were threatedn with fines if they hung out their laundry during the G8apparently the site of washing might unnerve the delegates), banners, messages and spill our water under the fence. (Helicopters buzz the house as I write, the news is discussing violence and nonviolence in Italian, and I stretch my memory of high school French to ask one of the women staying here in a phrase we never covered, "How many people died today?" One, she tells me, and one is in the hospital in critical condition.) Then the Pink march arrives, trapped in a cross street by our march. We open a lane and let them through. They are delightful, mostly young,some all punked out in wildly colored hair or dreadlocks or bright pink wigs, drumming, dancing, cavorting through the crowd. They turn the corner and filter into the next square down the wall, only a short half-block from the street weve occupied. On our street, everyone is sitting peacefully and having lunch. I walk over to the Pink Block to see whatàs going on. I drum for a while with the accordion player. People are milling abouttheres nothing clear thatàs happening, when suddenly a line of police has blocked on of the exits. Dancing youth are wildly leaping and stomping in front of them, but thats all they are doing. Much of the Pink Bloc has moved on, they appear a block or two above the square, with the police now trapped between groups of Pink. I am just thinking that this is not a good situation when a tear gas cannister lands in front of me. I start to move away, back down to the street where the women are. others whose eyes are streaming and red. Lisa appears, and we go back for another look. This time the gas catches us in a bad situation, with the way back to the strteet blocked, and another exit up a staircase too full of bodies. I am getting hit heavily, my lungs and eyes burning but I remember that helpful hint from all the trainings we have done. I can breathe, I really can breathe, and fear is the most powerful weapon. Lisa has better eye protection, she takes my hand and leads me out. I wash them out again. This seems like a good moment to leave. I gather up whatàs left of the women, Lisa and others get the Pink Block together, I begin a drumbeat and we start up the street, which is also up a hill. The march feels poerful and joyful. We are retreating, but in a strong way, moving on to the next action, still together. The good feeling lasts until we reach the top of the hill. Somehow the Black Bloc have become trapped between the pacifist affinity groups and the police. Monica is on the cell phone, upset and tearful when she learns that the Black Bloc have trashed an old part of the city. "Its over," she says. "after all our months of work! Lets go home." I am trying to find out what the women want to do: Lisa is trying to find out what the Pink Bloc wants to do, when suddenly massive amounts of tear gas fill the square. I am moving away from it, down a side street, trying to convince myself that I can breathe, when I notice that Im somehow in the midst of the Black Bloc. They run past me, younger, faster, much better equipped, and the police are behind them. I do not want to be here. Im fifty years old, and I was never very fast even when I was young. For the first time, I come close to panicking. But below is a side street, and the wind blows the gas away. I can breath. I duck down the alley. Like most of the streets in this hillside are, it winds around the side of ridge, with a sheer drop below, and snakes back to the main street. A small clump of Pink is sheltering there. I join them, we wait as the Black Block thunders by one street away. Lisa appears to tell us that the riot cops are coming up from below. Theyre beating people brutally. We check the exits, fearing weàre trapped, but suddenly the street we came in on is clear. I and a few others make a break for it, get across and head up a stairway on the other side. Lisa goes back to see if she can help move the others. Before she can, the police have found the alley. They beat people hard, going for the head. They beat pacifists who approach them with their hands up; they beat women. A battered crowd gathers on the stairs, moves up a level or two. I comfort a young man with a head wound, a woman who is crying, her thigh covered with the blood of her boyfriend who had been taken to the hospital. We are all shaken. Slowly, a pink contingent gathers on the stairs. We move up and up; in this part of town, half the streets are stairways that rise in endless zig zag flights. Below us, we see contingents of riot cops sweep the streets. The helicopter above move on, following the Black Bloc. Lisa is moving back and forth across the street and back to the square, checking out rumors, trying to figure out whats going on and where we might go. We eventually make our way back to the square. One of the women has been gassed so badly shes been vomiting, but she wants to stay. Another women from our contingent was hit in the head by a cop and taken to the hospital. A whole lot of people have been badly hurt, people who clearly and unmistakeably are not rock throwing, streetfighting yout, people who believed they were going to be in a peaceful and reasonably safe place. Lisa and I had done a training for the women, trying to give them some sense of what they jmight face on the streets from our experience in other actions. But theres no real way to prepare for a cop beating a peaceful, nonagressive, midde-aged woman on the head. The Pink Bloc begins a long journey back to the other side of town. Were joined by some of the others from the square and by some of the Italian Pacifist Affinity groups who have been trying to hold space on this side. As were trying to make our decision, with translation into English, Italian Spanish and French, Some of the Black Bloc drifts up from below and asks if they can join us to make our common way to the bottom of the town. Some of the group are angry at the Bloc and unwilling to take the risk of joining with them or being associated with them. Others feel that we should hold solidarity with everyone, and not leave anyone vulnerable to the police. Eventually, the group offers to accept them if theyàll unmask and leave their sticks behind. They wont do that, they say we should each respect each others way of doing things, so theyll go down alone, letting us go first. Theres more, mostly a series of moments of being trapped in an intersetion here or a stairway there, but after around two or three hours we made it back to the convergence center. Im far too tired to make sense of this day right now, its all I can do to describe it, and its after midnight and people have to go to bed. Someone is dead, and the night is not over.
Genoa 7/21
I think I'm calm, that I'm not in shock, but my fingers are trembling as I write this. We were up at the school that serves as a center for media, medical and trainings. We had just finished our meeting and were talking, making phone calls, when we heard shouts and sirens and the roar of people yelling, objects breaking. The cops had come and they were raiding the center. We couldn't get out of the building because there were two many people at the entrance. Lisa grabbed my hand and we went up, running up the five flights of stairs, up to the very top. Jeffrey joined us, people were scattering and looking for places to hide. We weren't panicking but my heart was pounding and I could hardly catch my breathe. We found an empty room, a couple of tables, grabbed some sleeping bags to cover our heads if we got beaten. And waited. Helicopters were buzzing over the building, we could hear doors being slammed and voices shouting below, then quiet. Someone came in, walked around, left. I couldn't seem to breath deep and I had an almost uncontrollable cough-but I controlled it. I lay there remembering we had lots and lots of people sending us love and protection and I was finally able to breathe. The light went on. Through a crack between the tables, I could see a helmet, a face. A big Italian cop with a huge paunch loomed over us. He told us to come out. He didn't seem in beating mode, but we stayed where we were, tried to talk to him in English and Spanish and the few Italian words I know: "paura" "fear" and "pacifisti." He took us down to the third floor, where a whole lot of people were sitting, lined up against the walls. We waited. Someone came in, demanding to know whether there was someone there from Irish Indy media. We waited. Lawyers arrived: The police left. For some arcane reason of Italian law, because it was a media place we had some right to be there, although the school across the street was also a media center and they went in there and beat people up. We watched for a long time out the windows. They began carrying people out on stretchers. One, Two, a dozen or more. A crowd had gathered and were shouting "Assessini! Assesini!" The brought out the waking wounded, arrested them and took them away. We believe they brought someone out in a body bag. The crowd below was challenging the cops and the cops were challenging the crowd and suddenly a huge circle of media gathered, bright camera lights. Monica, who is hosting us and is with the Genoa Social Forum, came up and found us. She'd been calling embassies and media and may have saved us from getting hurt once the cops finished with the first building. All the time there were helicopters thrumming and shining bright lights into the building. A few brave men were holding back the angry crowd, who seemed ready to charge the line of riot cops that was formed up in front of the school, shields up and gas masks on. "Tranquilo, tranquilo," the men were saying, holding up their hands and restraining the angry crowd from a suicidal charge. I was on the phone home, then back to the window, back to the phone. Finally, the cops went away. We went down to the first floor, outside, heard the story. They had come in to the rooms where people were sleeping. Everyone had raised up their hands, calling out "pacifisti! Pacifist!" And they beat the shit out of every person there. There's no pretty way to say it. We went into the other building: there was blood at every sleeping spot, pools of it in some places, stuff thrown around, computers and equipment trashed. We all wandered around in shock, not wanting to think about what is happening to those they arrested, to those they took to the hospital. We know that they have arrested everyone they take to the hospital, taken people to jail and tortured them. One of the young Frenchmen from our training, Vincent, had his head badly beaten on Friday in the street. In jail, they took him into a room, twisted his arms behind his back and banged his head on the table. Another man was taken into a room covered with pictures of Mussolini and pornography, and alternately slapped around and then stroked with affection in a weird psychological torture. Others were forced to shout, "Viva El Duce!" ! ! Just in case it isn't clear that this is Fascism. Italian variety, but it is coming your way. It is the lengths they will go to to defend their power. It's the lie that globalization means democracy. I can tell you, right now, tonight, this is not what democracy looks like. I've got to stop now. We should be safe if we can make our way back to where we're stayiing. Call the Italian Embassy. Go there, shame them! We may not be able to mount another demonstration tomorrow here if the situation stays this dangerous. Please, do something!
22.07.2001
Health staff gives evidence
The Health staff of GSF The staff of the Health emergency service of the Genoa Social Forum (GSF), coordinated by Dr Enrico Cordano, was willing to report to the public what they have witnessed when helping the wounded participants of the manifestations of July 20 and 21.
But the many serious unjustified violent attacks were tragically superseeded during the police raid at the school "Sandro Perini" during the night between July 21 and 22, which the health staff haf witness helplessly. We were inside the school, preparing press communications for the press conference scheduled for Sunday, July 22, at 15. Everything was calm and quiet. Then a large group of policemen [in assetto antisommossa - special anti-demonstration gear] approached on foot, followed by police vans. Without warning police started to wildly beat everybody who was in front of the school. We were horrified, watching it from the windows. The police broke the gates and got inside the school where demonstrators who had not found any other arrangement for the night had set up camp. As we were in the front building, they had not reached us yet, but we could hear the loud screams and the calls for help coming from the other side. Then the police entered our building too, where the provisional medical center, the center for legal help and the press office of the GSF were located. We were in the medical room, and they asked us for our ID cards and then kept us in the room for nearly one hour. When they gave us the ID cards back and left the building, we saw that all the computers of the legal help office had been destroyed and that the leader of the legal help office had been arrested. In the meanwhile, ambulances had arrived and started to pick up the wounded. This took nearly an hour. All the people who had been hosted in the building were either brought to the hospital or arrested by the police, it has not been possible so far to contact any of the victims [This was written on Sunday, 22th]. Neither members of parliament, nor lawyers nor the first aid staff who arrived were allowed to help. When the police went away we went into the deserted building and saw an awful scene. The entrance hall and the upper floor room were completely destroyed, the floor and the walls covered with blood. We wandered in the building in a state of despair, slipping on the fresh blood. For completeness, we attach the press communication which we were writing right before the raid of the police. " In Corso Italia, at 15.30 of July,21, policemen had hit people of the van of GSF's first aid service with their truncheons, which had been stopped by a run [carica] of the police, such that the side windows broke. The van was full of injured peaceful demonstrators who had found refuge in it, scared by the violence of the run [carica]. The doctor who was in charge of the van, has been hit and put in condition of not being able to aid the peoples wounded by the policemen. As a last intimidation, the police asked for all their medical professional licences and did not give them back. At the corner between via Zara and via Rosselli in the afternoon of July, 21, two ambulances "of the 118" [the italian national emergency phone number, note of the translator] have been stopped at a [police stop]. One of them was carrying a wounded person, lying in the [the small wheel bed in the ambulance] A policemen, using his cask, hit repeatedly the legs of the unarmed demonstrator. The staff of the ambulance implored the policemen to stop, but they had been ordered to keep off. In corso Garibaldi on friday, July 20, the state police made a run [carica] near Terralba bridge. We of the first aid service found refuge in the entrance of the parking of the Red Cross, who were well prepared for emergencies. Some policemen tried to get inside the Red Cross while chasing the demonstrators. When it was over, we got out immediately and we saw tens of injured people lying on the ground of Corso Gastaldi, and also a clochard, who probably was there by chance, and was not able to escape. Among the wounded people there was a boy with a telecamera, standing with his arms raised, while a policeman was beating him with the truncheon, and making the sign of victory with his free hand. In via Filippo Corridoni, near the Students' Hostel, we helped three girls. One of them had been pushed down of a wall by a policeman, and had her left leg broken in a triple complex way. While she was lying and suffering, she had been beaten with a truncheon by a policemen. She has then been carried to the Ospedale San Martino and underwent surgery. The two other girls were under shock and have been repeatedly beaten with truncheons: one had a tooth broken and an effusion of blood at her upper lip and on her forehead, the other one several effusions in her face. On Friday, July 10, at around 4 o'clock in the afternoon in via Tolemaide two members of the first aid staff approached a demonstrator who was lying on the ground while he was being beaten with a truncheon by a policemen. Disregarding that they were declaring to be of first aid staff, as was evident from their clothes, they were also beaten on the back and on the neck." We could have added several other episodes of unjustified violence against the demonstrators, but we think that the seriousness of the police raid of last night, which neglected any legal rights and has produced a climate of fear and illegality, superseeds everything else. Genova, July 22 2001.
Arrested in Genua
Ulrich Brand
I was arrested on Saturday, 21. June, at about 4 p.m., and held in police custody until Sunday, 22. June, 10 p.m.; first in a prison in downtown Genova (one hour of severe beatings), then in Bolzaneto (10-12 hours harrassement and abuse), then in a jail in Alessandria (16-18 hours confinement).
Together with a group of seven people from Frankfurt, I participated peacefully in the central demonstration on Saturday. At about 3:30 p.m., we encountered a tear gas attack by the police which aimed to divide and disperse the demonstration. Together with about a hundred other people, two members of our group and I escaped into a house. After 20 minutes, the police told us to leave the house and waited for us downstairs. They let almost everybody pass - except an Italian man and me. Both of us were wearing black T-Shirts (mine had the face of Marcos on it). They took my back pack away with a foto, a wristwatch and two knee bandages in it. We were brought to a police car, severely beaten, put in handcuffs and then transported to a house (probably La Questura) downtown. On the way from the car to the house, one policemen said to me: "If you try to escape, I will kill you" and then he sang a fascist song. Inside the prison we were brought into a dirty room where policemen started beating both of us with their fists and feet. They beat us into our faces, on our heads, on our backs and legs. They took away my glasses and crushed them. A medical doctor came to inspect us and after he said that we were o.k. the policemen continued beating us. The policemen were full of hate, it was incredible.
After one hour of severe beatings, they brought us to a prison in Bolzaneto where they forced us to stand facing the wall of cell number 7, with our hands up. We had to stand in this position for several hours while the policemen where shouting at us: "Comunista", "Bastardi", "Global", "Manu Chao" and most of all "Cazzo" (prick). From outside the window they sprayed tear gas into this room twice while we were standing there. Several times, people were brought to other places to be submitted to "trattamento speciale” (special treatment). We heard how these people were brutalized and heard them crying.
I was brought to the police records department. After this, I washed my hands in the yard when a policeman came up to me and from about 20 centimeters away sprayed tear gas into my face. Fortunately, I was able to turn away a little but it was still extremely painful for several hours and could not rinse out my eyes. I was then brought back to the prison room where now there were more than 30 people (which was only one of at least eight). I had been given no information on why I was being held in prison. Nobody had presented me with a sentence or any other information. During the next hours more and more people were escorted out of the room. I did not know whether they were brought to other places or released.
At sunset, I was brought with others to the jail in Alessandria. There I was asked for the first time why I happened to be in Genua. I answered that I was a peaceful protester and member of a Third-World group in Frankfurt, Germany. They were not interested in what I said and told me: "Stop talking, please!" I asked to talk to an attorney of my choice but they refused and I had to chose one from a general list of attorneys distributed by the German ambassy. I was brought back into a cell and in the evening, again without any information, I was released from prison onto the street. One policeman told me: "Forget everything. It was a bad dream."
Ulrich Brand works as an Assistant Professor at Kassel University (Germany) in the area "Globalization and Politics" and politically active in the Federal Congress of Development Action Groups (BUKO) as well as in the Third World House in Frankfurt/M. He is author and editor of several book and articles on international politics/Global Governance, critical state theory, non-governmental organizations, social movements (esp. the Zapatista movement in Chiapas) and environmental politics.
Indymedia:
Eyewitness report on Police brutality against pacifists on July, 20th in Genoa
On July, 20th 2001, the siege day, I was with the "Pink-Silver Block". In this report I aim to describe how we, a thoroughly peaceful and harmless mass of people, were met by an indescribable brutality of the Police forces on Piazza Manin and earlier.
After a loud but peaceful procession from Piazza J.F. Kennedy we reached Via Assarotti (the street that leads from Pizza Manin straight into the red zone in a south-western direction; both Piazza Manin and Via Assarotti were occupied by the pacifist blocks). There was some confusion as to where we were heading and where Piazza Manin was. After a while part of the group, including myself, joined an Italian group that was trying to - more or less symbolically - "destroy" the fence by attaching ropes to it and pulling until the rope snapped. There was a lot of Riot Police behind the fence so even if we would have got rid of the fence it was clear to us and the Police that we wouldn't have represented any danger to the red zone.
However, after only a few minutes, without any kind of warning, a water canon was used to get the people off the fence - spraying the people right into the face. It wasn't hard enough to break people's bones but f. ex. for people with sensitive eyes it was a really dangerous situation, especially as they didn't give us any kind of warning.
After a while, people were moving to another part of the fence which was situated only about 50 metres from the one in Via Assarotti in a north-western direction. I had hardly reached the fence when Police - again without warning - started shooting teargas bullets from behind the fence into the crowd. People ran back to Via Assarotti, only to return after the teargas had gone. Again, teargas was used, this time from both sides of the small square. There was also Riot Police coming from the north but whether they were beating people I couldn't see as the air was heavy with teargas.
In all this running around I had lost my group. I decided to walk up Via Assarotti towards Piazza Manin to look for them. On both Via Assarotti and Piazza Manin there were thousands of pacifists, having a sit-in, making music, letting balloons rise with banners attached to them etc. - a very peaceful atmosphere. People in T-Shirts and Shorts, people of all ages.
At about 3:30pm, on Piazza Manin, part of the Pink-Silver Block came together for a meeting to decide what to do next. I still couldn't find my group. I used the time of the meeting to dry my clothes and to eat something. About ten minutes later, people dressed in black entered the square and moved right through its middle. They had drums, part of them were marching! They surely did not look like anarchists! As they intended to enter Via Assarotti, many of the pacifists formed a line to stop them.
The next thing I remember was that a teargas bullet came down right next to me. At first I couldn't believe what I saw as I thought of Piazza Manin as being the quiet, the pacifist place. I was still pretty much undressed so before I could run I had to get into my shoes which cost precious time. A mass panic developed. There were massive amounts of teargas being shot into the square and thrown from a helicopter. I, and many other people (including a German Police leader who saw the scenes on TV), later said that it was a miracle that in this mass panic with thousands of people just trying to escape from the square, nobody was killed.
Teargas was so heavy that I couldn't open my eyes most of the time. I just tried to run in the direction of a street that was leading from Piazza Manin to the west, the one next to Via Assarotti (I cannot remember the name). Unfortunately, I ran into the wall between the two streets so I had to run along this wall to get to the street. There the first Riot Cops appeared. They had formed a kind of line in front of the wall and they were beating every person that ran past, everything that moved. It was here that I was hit hard on the head and shoulder for the first time. I was also hit by a teargas bullet on my right leg.
Suddenly, I heard a woman screaming right next to me. She was lying with her back on the ground and she was facing two Cops that beat the shit out of her. They were hitting her right in the face. Without thinking I pushed one of the Cops as hard as I could and tried to give the woman time to escape. Unfortunately, there were also Cops behind me who started hitting me on the head so I panicked and just ran away without knowing what became of the woman who was, as I think, still lying on the ground when I left.
Eventually, I reached the street. A whole mass of people were running down this street, trying to escape the Police by running into small lanes or stairs that went off the street to the left and to the right. Police kept on firing teargas into the crowd even now that everybody had run away from the square. I ran after a group of about 15 Italian and French pacifists who entered a small lane to the left. There was no time to think where to go. We hoped that the Police would go after the "Black Block" (?) part of which was also running down the same street - especially as the lane we had entered turned out to be a dead end.
I turned around. About 8-10 Riot Cops had followed us into the lane. They approached us in a normal walking speed. While the "Black Block" was running down the street the Cops were taking plenty of time to persecute pacifists. By now it was clear that they were after us, not the "Black Block". It took about 20 seconds for them to reach us so there was enough time for them to realise that we were absolutely peaceful and harmless. We were standing with our backs to the wall, hands raised, everyone in the group was very obviously peaceful.
I looked into the eyes of one of the Cops (the only part of their body that was visible due to the gas masks etc.) and tried to show him with hand gestures that we represented no danger to them; there was no other way to communicate, again due to the gas masks. Maybe this was a mistake but there was no time to think. The Cop looked at me and my raised hands for a few seconds, then he hit my right wrist really hard with his truncheon. The doctor later commented that it is a miracle that it is not broken.
From now on the Cops just lost their heads. They pushed us into one corner and started hitting us on the head before we could even protect our heads with our arms. And they didn't stop for about 3-5 minutes. I just lost track of the time, it felt like ages, everybody was just waiting for them to stop. Anyhow, in all that time there was absolutely no kind of resistance, neither from me nor from the other activists, we were just lying there on the ground trying to protect the vital parts of our bodies. I was hit on the head - and my arms and hands with which I wanted to protect my head - extremely hard about ten times, then kicked in the back (into the kidneys and very close to my spinal column). It was probably due to my fairly dense hair that my head was not bleeding. The heads of the people next to me were covered in blood.
After a minute or so an Italian guy who was lying on the ground to my left started crying and screaming in panic: "Basta! Basta! Basta!" (Enough!) I looked up and saw that he was being beaten on the head again and again by one Cop. But when he started crying and screaming, one or two of the other Cops started to beat and kick him as well as if they were taking great pleasure in him crying for his life. He was over and over covered in blood and had to be carried to an ambulance when the attackers had disappeared.
By now everyone in the group was fearing the worst. I was scared to death. But, very suddenly, they stopped. I looked to the left and I saw that a woman with a video camera had started filming the scene so they just stopped and ran away. The video can be seen on the internet ( www.kanalb.de); however, most of the attack is not covered.
Everybody got up, most of us were crying, some had to be carried away.
As my head, right shoulder, back, arms and hands were hurting I decided to join a group that wanted to avoid any more confrontations with the Police at all cost and go back to Piazza J.F. Kennedy. This, however, took about four hours as we were blocked by the Police again and again. They seemed to be wanting to trap us in the city and not let us out. Riots, Cops, teargas everywhere. Still in a state of shock and surrounded by war-like scenes, panic started to grow inside of me when the news of Carlo Giuliani's death broke. I just wanted to get out of there.
Then, after an endless seeming time we had found our way back to the sea and could relax for the first time after the attack and see a doctor.
July 31, 2001
Inside a Genoa Prison
Beatings, Abuse and Retinal Scans
I declare that this is a true and honest statement which I have written on Friday 27th July 2001. I permit it to be used by other individuals and agencies who support me and all the other people arrested at the Scolastico A. Diaz and surrounding area on the night of Saturday 21st July 2001. I state that I wish to sue the Italian police for illegal arrest, kidnapping and torture and I ask for support in doing this. Please contact me via e-mail. I went to Genoa to participate in the mass demonstrations against the G8 and its policies. I went because I believe in a free and equal society with people living in harmony with each other and the ecological system. I flew out with my friend Dan McQuillan on Tuesday 17th July (our return flight was on Monday 23rd July) on Ryan Air from Stansted to Genoa.
On Saturday night we were staying at the Scolastico A. Diaz. The school was having renovation work done on it but as far as I was aware, it was legally occupied and the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly. It was directly opposite the media centre and the Genoa Social Forum administrative base. It was a big building with several floors, old with high ceilings. Through the front doors was a large hallway. On the left was a ramp leading up to a line of computers. To the left of that were stairs leading to the first floor where Dan and I were staying.
The room we stayed in had a window view onto the courtyard at the front of the school and was directly opposite the media centre with a narrow road in-between.
I went to bed about 12 o'clock on Saturday night. Staying in the room was Dan and a guy from New Zealand who I now know to be Sam Buchanan. I was dozing off and then I suddenly heard a crashing, roaring sound coming from outside. I quickly got out of my sleeping bag and looked out of the window. I saw a mass of police made up of squads from various cities (I know this from the documents that the judge gave me when I was released) filling the street outside.
One of my memories was of the police with shields charging down the street followed by 2 police vans. There were people in the street shouting and screaming. It was a nightmare of sound. I presume that this is the point that Mark Covell (another UK national) was critically injured by the police as he was crossing the street.
I began rapidly putting my clothes on and looked out of the window again. I saw the police van ram the school gates. We began to push our bags into the corner of the room hoping that if they came along the scaffolding that the police wouldn't see us. I heard people screaming in pain from downstairs. It took about a few minutes before the police smashed down the door to our room. They smashed our door down and had a large searchlight, which they shone into the room. As soon as they saw us they were on us. There was maybe about a dozen of them, it was complete chaos. Dan was completely battered by them all down his left side, he had his wrist broken and he had blows to the head.
Sam was battered over the head three times. When I met him in the prison afterwards, he said that each time he was hit that it was like in a cartoon book as he saw stars and sparkles from the force of the blows. I received blows while we were on the floor and have bruises, but nothing in comparison with the others.
I don't know how long this lasted, maybe just a couple of minutes, maybe a bit longer. I could feel the venom and hatred from them. They eventually left the room and as we lay there in a pool of blood they threw some of the window frames and other furniture on top of us. It was as if they were the destroy squad and then a minute or so later came the 'retrieval' squad.
They told us to get out of the room and as we went down the stairs the police were lined up and were hitting us with their batons. It was as if they had gone berserk and they were getting in each others way trying to get to us. We moved down the ramp into the main hall area. We were told to get on the floor and had to lie kneeling on the floor, head down and arms stretched out in front.
At one point someone who I assume had been badly beaten up outside was brought into the hall on a stretcher. This lasted about maybe 15-20 minutes (it was difficult to tell the passage of time in this situation) till the medical workers and ambulances arrived. Dan was bleeding heavily. The ambulance crew arrived and began ripping up cardboard boxes to make splints as they did not have enough equipment to deal with the number of broken bones.
Of the 93 people arrested, over 60 went to hospital and remember, this was not for minor injuries but for broken bones and head trauma. One man was completely battered down his back and did not go to hospital. Dan was put on an ambulance trolley and I was holding his hand and helping him. I demanded to go with Dan to the ambulance because he was in such a state and could not speak Italian. The police were reluctant to let me leave but the paramedics insisted.
With them we made our way to the ambulance outside. As we were leaving the building, the police tried to rip a money belt off Dan. I unclipped it so they wouldn't hurt Dan further. One cop began flicking through the money belt and we haven't seen it since. It contained Dan's passport, at least one credit card and several hundred pounds of English and Italian money.
We were taken to the Galliera (?) Hospital, in Genoa. In the ambulance the crew were really friendly to us, in the hospital with police around they were not. It felt like a police state with police in complete command. I sat in the waiting room while Dan was being treated. I felt terrified. I saw a pay phone and had a phone card on me. I rang my girlfriend Mel and another friend about Saturday 1.10am British time. I left a message that we had been attacked and that I was OK but Dan was in a hospital badly injured. When trying to make a third call I was stopped by a police officer.
The people taken to hospital had fairly serious injuries and had to sit on chairs waiting. The police had taken over the hospital. As I understand it people with such traumas (eg head injuries) should be under medical observation for 24 hours. There was a group of about a dozen of us in the hallway, under police guard. They then started moving us to a police van. I had to sit on the floor for the journey. Dan was also in the van. We were driven to a holding centre called Bolzenato (I was told later by other prisoners. I am not sure if this is the correct spelling or name). It did not appear to be an official police station or prison. It was a place of a terror and fear.
On getting out of the van the first thing we had to do was to put our hands up and face the wall with legs apart (in a spread-eagled position). The police were kicking our feet apart if they thought that our feet were too close together. One police officer who kicked my legs looked about 18 years old (I was old enough to be his father!). We were made to face the wall in this position and there was a row of us. A police officer came behind me and speaking English in an Italian accent said 'who is your government'. The person before me in the row had answered 'Polizei', so I said the same. I was afraid of being beaten. I think at this point they took our names and addresses. They then took us to a cell. The cell was quite large with a high ceiling, heavily barred windows and high doors. We were told to sit down with our backs against the wall. People in the cell, especially young people were crying a lot of the time. They were
traumatised. I tried to lock inside myself, stay calm and strong.
At one point we had to stand with our hands against the wall, arms up for an hour and 15 minutes with police screaming abuse at us. For all I knew there was a police officer behind me with a truncheon ready to beat me across the back.
There were different voices screaming abuse, I was lucky I didn't understand Italian. My hands and arms went dead, I felt strange sensations in my palms. It was helpful to me to meditate, to focus my mind. It was physically hard to keep that position for even a short length of time. Dan with a broken wrist and head injuries also had to do this.
The cell itself was freezing, the floor had ceramic tiles and it was cold even in the daytime. I had on a cotton shirt and jeans only. Dan was wearing shorts and a thin shirt, he did manage to get a sleeping bag, I can't remember how, but we all shared it.
At one point the police took Dan out of the cell. We didn't know what was going to happen to him. Later on I heard this woman shouting 'please help me, please help me' over and over. This was torture, it was psychological and physical warfare. The torture consisted of:
· Physical abuse (blows etc)
· Sleep deprivation
· Having to endure cold temperatures with no protection
· Food and water deprivation
· Refusal to have any access to outside world
· Forced into spreadeagled position
· Verbal abuse
· Extreme intimidation (eg people disappearing and then screams start)
Anyone in there who looked punk or scruffy was getting a really hard time. There was an American guy in there in his 30s, I saw his back on Tuesday and he was completely battered, all over his back. He'd said that when the school was raided he was beaten on his back. Every time they beat him they cut some more of his dreadlocks off till they'd cut all his locks off.
A woman said that when she was attacked by the police (at the school), they cut off a lump of her hair (and her appearance was very straight). It felt like they were taking trophies. A man said that he was beaten on the back when he had his arms up. I was hit in the face when the police were strip searching me, it was an open-handed blow. Dan said it was important to scream when the police hit you in order to deflect them from beating you further.
The most threatening police officers there we called the 'grey monsters'. They were enormous, similar to bouncers. They had grey uniforms, body armour, and big boots. Whenever you had to go to the toilet, a police officer (sometimes a 'grey monster', sometimes another type of officer) would 'escort' you by holding the flesh at the back of the neck and walking you so you were bent over, sometimes almost bent over double. You were unable to see anything or know who else was there.
With at least two of the cells, they hung sheets over the doors so you could not see inside at all. I remember seeing one cell through the corner of my eye with I think two people inside with their arms up the walls. It was scary.
I was held in these conditions from about 5 am Sunday morning till 6 am Monday morning, about 24 hours. Later I found that other people were held for longer.
During this time we suffered sleep deprivation. Groups of police were standing at the door and at the window, shouting across the room, yelling and laughing. I saw Dan and another prisoner being spat on by police officers.
The floor was freezing cold with no blankets. For the first six hour we had no food or water. About midday they brought us two very small biscuits each. Later on in the afternoon they gave us about dozen ham rolls which we shared between the fourteen of us. I would have thought that they knew many of us were vegetarian.
We had to stand with our arms up facing the wall 3 or 4 times but there was no attempt to question us (although as far as I know, some prisoners might have been interrogated I just did not hear of this happening). They also kept counting us and asking our names frequently, which often seemed to be nothing more than a deliberate disruption.
I had now been without sleep since Saturday morning (I had only just gone to bed when the police raided), by Monday night I was hallucinating and became very paranoid. Many people had similar experiences. One man did not know that he was even in Genoa, he was in such a state.
Depriving people of sleep was a completely deliberate policy by the police. Every half an hour to an hour they would begin shouting and yelling. At no point were we allowed access to a lawyer.
The police began processing people about 3am on Monday morning. I was photographed directly onto a laptop, and they also used an eye camera, presumably to take a retina scan and I was fingerprinted. I was asked to strip and squat.
Eventually I was put into a cell on a bus and cuffed tightly to another prisoner. It was around 6 am when we in this bus (I believe that it was the first bus, the prisoners whose surname started early in the alphabet like mine) were taken to Pavia prison. As we were taken up the stairs into the prison I received a blow to my back by a prison officer in a dark section of the stairwell.
It was around maybe 9 am Monday morning that I was taken to a cell of my own. There was a mattress and blanket and thankfully it was warmer. It sounds odd but I was relieved to be in prison. At a later point I was taken to another cell. I was given pasta with meat in it, even though I had told the prison officer that I was vegetarian.
Between coming into the prison on about 7 am Monday and leaving it at about 6pm Wednesday I had no exercise even though I requested it on many occasions.
Dan managed to see a lawyer sometime on Tuesday. He bought back news of a 30,000 strong demonstration it Milan against the shooting and the beatings by the Italian police and the fact that there was massive opposition to this brutal repression. It was very encouraging for me, sometimes I believed that maybe we might have been forgotten about even though I knew that was not true.
He also managed to send out a telegram. I requested a lawyer and consulate access and to be able to send a telegram, I completed the relevant forms but was not granted any of my requests. It wasn't until later on Tuesday about 6 pm that I received a telegram from my girlfriend Mel.
On Wednesday morning Dan was taken off to the judge, as were many other prisoners. I started getting worried and I expected the worse, maybe that I would have serious charges brought against me and that I would be framed by the police. But later on Wednesday afternoon I was taken in front of the judge, who had arrived at the prison. There was a lawyer present from the Genoa Social Forum.
I had to explain to the judge about the nature of the arrest, and whether I had any connections to the Black bloc. This interview took about 10 minutes. I was then taken back to my cell and then brought in front of the judge again after 15 minutes. The judge said the arrest was illegal and that there would be no charges made against me, and that I was free to go. I was released at about 6 pm on Wednesday evening into police detention.
There were about 60-100 people protesting outside the police station gates, they stayed there till at least 4.45 am the next morning to clap and cheer as people were being released. That was fantastic and I know all the prisoners really appreciated that active solidarity.
I was met by lawyers from the Genoa Social Forum and a lawyer called Marie Louisa. The Germans who were detained were deported to the German border. The Germans had a large escort of police to take them to the border. One Lithuanian guy had no money, passport or documents and the Lithuanian consulate were not contactable. I gave him some money and asked the lawyers to look after him.
Local people brought us food and clothes. The consulate staff were also there to meet us at the prison and they stayed with us all the time in the police station for which I am grateful.
We were all released without charge, yet we have been banned from entering Italy for 5 years. But this is from an illegal arrest. The reason given was that I am 'a danger to public order and security'. The lawyers made many protests against the imposed deportation order and we collectively protested against the it, however we were taken to a Milan airport and basically left there with no passports or money, all we had was a letter from the
police. We had to pay for our own flights for our own deportation. Despite the fact that we were being deported by the Italian state, we had to each buy our own tickets costing £230 each we arrived at Heathrow on Thursday morning.
In conclusion, it felt like the beginning of a police state, like how, for example, Pinochet seized power in Chile. There was no rule of law or any regard for constitutional rights. The police were genuinely the government.
But I do not blame Italian people for this, many Italian people gave me much solidarity and support I blame the Italian police and the Italian state for what happened and I call upon them to be bought to account for their completely unacceptable actions.
I would like to end by saying that I am not intimidated or frightened by this police brutality. I am determined that the police and their political masters will not get away with this. There have been hundreds of thousands of people all around the world supporting us and opposing theG8. There is a huge push for change and I am proud to be part of it. CP
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