The smoke clears and only a ruin remain. The Youth House is gone.
We, a bunch of us, stare at it with running eyes. But our tears are of defiance and rage. It is said that the ruin in front of us was just a house, and that is true. Even though it represented ideas and ideals it was merely a building, a material expression of something that the material can never express. What is inside us isn’t a place but a state of mind. It’s true. That evasive place of freedom is everywhere, in all true warriors’ heart and core.
Hundreds were arrested and jailed. How many will probably never be quite clear. I’ll certainly not trust the police to tell us the correct number. Many were arrested. Quite a few of them only passing by, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was among those not caught this time. But I have been arrested before, and I know how a cell looks like and feels like, both because I’ve seen the small cell from the inside and because I walk through the bigger prison of society every day.
I know what my friends and fellow warriors feel. I would, even if I hadn’t heard their cries of pain and desolation.
They threw everything at us, and we’re still here.
«We made a mistake», Information Officer Fleming Steen Munch in the Copenhagen police stated today, to Danish TV2.
They fired Ferret 40 teargas grenades at us, a brand that even the manufacturer, Defense Technologies describes as lethal, «if fired directly at people».
Our pal Fleming doesn’t mean it, of course. Police forces all over the world have a long history of coming up with insincere apologies after street battles. It’s one of their methods of softening the blow when facing a public at least partly seeing through their propaganda. Even a text-TV message on Norwegian television, in a rare show of honesty co-revealed, confirmed that the uniformed thugs attacked peaceful protests. Everybody knows what’s going on in the world, even the most thickheaded average citizen and watchdog. They know deep down. They have eyes and they can see. They have minds and they are able to think… even though they are not exercising that ability very much. They know what freedom of expression means, at least in a muddled part of their brains and core.
Workers are afraid. The religious zealots «legally» owning the ruin have a hard time finding people willing to work there, to build their house dedicated to intolerance and insanity.
Very good. The servants of tyranny should be afraid. They should look under their beds a dark night. The new, shiny house will in all probability be raised, under heavy guard from the thugs in armor. Experience tells us that. Their masters, in their smugness think they have won… again, but they haven’t, not really. This is merely one more battle of the thousands that have been, of the thousands to come.
They fired death at us, and hammered us with their clubs and viciousness and glee, and took us away in chains. We’re still here.
We’ll always be here.