April 2, 2003

By Steven T. Jones

'BIKES NOT BOMBS " would seem to some an incongruous choice, whether delivered as an antiwar chant or as the name of an offshoot group from the monthly Critical Mass bicycle protests. But as U.S. bombs rain down on Iraq, the role of bikes as war-stoppers is more relevant than ever.

Since the war started and San Franciscans began taking to the streets in protest, Bikes Not Bombs has been the most consistent and visible aspect of the city's antiwar movement. Every weekday since the second full day of the war these protesters have been gathering at 5 p.m. in Justin Herman Plaza, snarling downtown traffic, confounding police, and flashing smiles and peace signs at thousands of people.

And every day but Mondays (my longest workday at the Bay Guardian), I've been out there with them, as both a neutral observer and an active participant. I'm a bike commuter concerned about all of the ugly fallout from auto-centric societies, from pollution to war. I'm also opposed to this war and appreciate opportunities to confront fellow citizens who favor the war and to support those who share my beliefs, even if only for a passing moment on my bike.

But most important, I'm a journalist who is fascinated by Bikes Not Bombs – as a group, as a movement, and as a way of looking at the United States' invasion of an oil-rich foreign country.

Pedal power

Antiwar activism nicely morphs off of the basic Critical Mass message, which is that if a bicycle were everyone's main mode of transportation, we would have less pollution, healthier bodies, friendlier communities, safer streets, and independence from foreign sources of oil.

"Bike Against War!" advertised a flyer that hit San Francisco's streets as the bombing began. "Every day that war continues, bring your bike downtown to join mobile direct actions! Hundreds of bicyclists will occupy streets in the downtown area – we will provide a powerful presence that says: No to War! No to Oil Dependency! No business as usual!"

So far, that's exactly what this group has done, even if some days the "hundreds" look more like a few dozen. But even on such days of sparse turnout, the group has been a steadfast presence on downtown streets, where they always manage to stall car traffic and elicit more supportive smiles and peace signs than growls or scowls from drivers and pedestrians.

"The relationship between bicycles and this war is critical," said Jason Meggs, who helps facilitate the rides and videotapes them for both posterity and evidence. "By filling the streets with bikes instead of cars, we are bringing peace to this country."

He's just one of the regulars on the ride. Geronimo Garcia, with his "No More War" chant and sign, is consistently the loudest on the ride.

"People are giving their time to come out here everyday," Garcia said. "It takes a lot of dedication and a lot of hope that it will make a difference."

And the difference most of us hope it will make simply involves exposure. Riders make known their dedication to the antiwar cause, and make eye contact with hundreds of people on every ride, hoping to pull them out of their workaday lives to think about the war. At the same time, they create a spectacle for the media.

Television crews have done regular reports from the Bikes Not Bombs rides. And Meggs has proven adept at using the media to get out the message, always offering fresh faces for journalists and steering the rides toward hot spots where he knows both cameras and cops will be.

The Bay Bridge on- and off-ramps South of Market have been well guarded by San Francisco Police Department and California Highway Patrol officers, who scurry from ramp to ramp whenever the ride rolls past, hoping to prevent protesters from getting onto the bridge and shutting it down.

It's funny stuff to the Bikes Not Bombs group. They haven't actually tried to board the bridge, but the riders laugh at how just their presence nearby causes the police to close the ramps, helping achieve the protest's "no business as usual" objective.

Police confusion

The SFPD hasn't known quite how to deal with Bikes Not Bombs. That's something the department admits, and something that comes through even more strongly in police actions, which have ranged from facilitation to arbitrary harassment to paranoia.

Since the Critical Mass movement reached a compromise with the SFPD under former chief Fred Lau more than five years ago, the official city policy has been one of acceptance. "We tolerate it," SFPD spokesperson Dewayne Tulley said. "We came to an understanding that Critical Mass could have this event on the last Friday of every month."

Riders are allowed to run red lights as long as they abide most other laws.

But with daily riders pushing an antiwar message, there has sometimes been enforcement overkill. Such was the case March 25 when the ride of about 100 bicyclists weaved through the Financial District, North Beach, Chinatown, and SoMa. Trailing the procession was the usual group of about a dozen SFPD motorcycle cops, two police cars, and a police van, as well as two Muni buses filled with police in riot gear (who never disembarked), two police helicopters overhead, and contingents of SFPD cops on dirt bikes and CHP motorcycle cops.

Police officers actually outnumbered the protesters, an interesting dynamic considering how local political officials like Mayor Willie Brown and Sup. Tony Hall have tried to blame protesters for costing the city millions of dollars – most of that in police overtime costs.

Individual officers have also vented their frustrations on the bike protesters. With just a couple dozen participants, the March 27 ride was the smallest yet, so police were quicker to be aggressive. After about an hour of following the ride, Officer #307, who had American flags attached to his motorcycle, decided to pull over a bicyclist.

"He ran a red light," the officer said when I asked why he stopped the kid.

"But we were all running red lights," I responded. "Why'd you give him a ticket?"

"Well, that doesn't make it legal," the officer said.

Meggs and others considered the incident and several like it to be inappropriate police harassment designed to quell the most consistent branch of the local antiwar movement.

"In light of the protests over the last week, we were on the alert for problems," the SFPD's Tulley said of the reaction March 25. "Perhaps it was overkill, but they were probably just being cautious."

It was against this backdrop that Bikes Not Bombs anticipated the big ride on Friday, which fell on the day of the regular monthly Critical Mass ride and had been publicized as the major antiwar event of the week.

Friday fun

At 5:30 p.m. on Friday, March 29, Justin Herman Plaza was so filled with bikes that we could barely move. The monthly Critical Mass rides have been drawing a few hundred people in recent months, but this crowd looked closer to a few thousand. All of the regulars were there, and many new faces as well.

First-time bike protesters ranged from middle-aged Carol C., a veteran protester who was new to Bikes Not Bombs, to 19-year-old Alex Candia, who was irritated after giving a media interview.

"He just wanted to make it all about the financial costs of the protests," Candia said of the Channel 5 reporter. "I don't feel like it should be costing the city any money. They don't need to hassle us; we're peaceful."

Indeed, the protest proved to be both peaceful and well policed. Dozens of officers monitored the procession of bikes from land and air, but given the massive size of the event, there was little they could do but simply let it happen. Minor crimes like public drinking and nudity were given a pass by the cops, which mostly confined their activities to harassing stragglers at the rear just to keep things moving.

It was too big for police to even charge ahead of the procession to shut down intersections, a task the bicyclists took up on this night, stopping in front of motorists at intersections and sending the message, "This is just 10 minutes out of your life that you'll be stuck here, and that's a lot better than being bombed."

And 10 minutes is about how long the procession lasted on that night at any given point. It was 10 minutes when antiwar activists controlled the streets and the message, 10 minutes when observers pondered why so many people were at this event, 10 minutes to think, 10 minutes when there wasn't business as usual.