The Sydney Morning Herald
http://www.smh.com.au/news/9905/15/text/features9.html

CIVIL RIGHTS

Angela's clashes

Date: 15/05/99

Angela Davis - you remember the afro. The '60s activist, as committed 
as ever to civil rights, sees clear parallels between race struggles 
in the US and Australia. John Huxley writes.  

UNDER cloudless skies, in the vast, grassed square overlooked by San 
Francisco's glorious "beaux arts" City Hall, a scene is unfolding 
that could easily have been created, choreographed, even coloured-in, 
in the '60s.  

With a prolonged wail, the rasta rhythms of E.W. Wainwright's African 
Roots jazz band wind down. A wild-haired, wild-eyed man, dressed in 
floral shirt and khaki shorts, jumps onto the makeshift stage, built 
on the back of a truck.  

He grabs the microphone. He surveys the boisterous crowd, joyfully 
gathering for the sort of political demonstration that has helped 
make San Francisco the protest capital of the world. He starts 
yelling. "You look beautiful! You look beautiful! You look just so 
beautiful!"  

The crowd - which has swelled to more than 25,000 as other 
demonstrators stream across town to join the freedom rally - responds 
with delight. Its members whoop and cheer and chant, with prompted, 
metronomic precision, their support for the release of a black 
prisoner being held on death row.  

"We're going to free [pause] Mumia [pause] Abu-Jamal, [pause] we're 
going to tear down the prisons [pause] wall by wall."  

The beautiful people have been "mobilised" specifically to campaign 
for the release of Jamal, a Pennsylvanian journalist who they insist 
was wrongfully found guilty of shooting a police officer, but the 
rally has attracted all kinds of action groups.  

All sorts of banners: International Black Women for Wages for 
Housework. Universal Zulu Nation. The Plumbers, Steam and 
Refrigeration Fitters (local 393, San Jose). Tenderloin AIDS Resource 
Centre. Nation of Islam. Workers World Party. And the Longshore and 
Warehouse Union, which in an unprecedented move has closed all 
western seaboard ports for the weekend in support of Jamal's release. 
And all types of T-shirt slogans: "US Out of Yugoslavia" (Socialist 
Workers). "That's Mr Dyke to You" (Gay and Lesbian Alliance). "Set 
San Francisco on Fire" (Anarchy in the USA). "Fix Muni!" (a lone 
protester fighting for an on-time bus service).  

Somewhere in this rainbow cacophony, this raging kaleidoscope, 
sitting regally on the grass, smiling serenely at the developing 
drama, is a striking black woman, plainly but elegantly attired in 
brown jacket and black trousers, her dark, Afro-style hair tinged 
with gold. Friends pause to speak to her. Strangers stop to be 
photographed with her or simply to shake her hand. And, when 
eventually she climbs on the stage to speak, the crowd gives her the 
loudest and longest ovation of the day.  

To American audiences, she needs no lengthy introduction.  

"Angela Davis ..." the man with the microphone says economically, 
"... woman of principle." Woman of principles.  

This month, those principles will be applied for the first time to 
Australia, when Davis visits the country as a guest speaker at the 
Sydney Writers' Festival. It promises to be a lively, thought-
provoking, controversial encounter.  

"This is my first visit," she says, "but, of course, I am familiar 
through my research with the White Australia Policy and with the 
extent to which the prison system in Australia serves as a racist 
tool to control the Aboriginal population."  

The plain-speak, the passion, is typical of a woman who as student, 
teacher, writer, scholar, prisoner, black icon, but always as left-
wing political activist, has been a leading participant in key social 
struggles of the contemporary era - against racism, sexism and what 
her supporters insist on calling "classism".  

Other black - and white - militants may have dropped out, sold out or 
burned out, but at 55 Davis has maintained the rage, her passion for 
political change undiminished, her optimism undimmed, her views, for 
many, almost seditiously unpalatable. IT IS WITH a mixture of 
amusement and alarm that Davis recalls being introduced recently to a 
man who could not quite place her. After some prompting, a flicker of 
recognition flashed across his face. "Oh," he said, "Angela Davis - 
the afro."  

Recalling the incident, Davis laughs. But only a little. "It's funny, 
but it also disturbs me."  

As she says in a magazine article reproduced in a recent anthology, 
The Angela Y. Davis Reader, "It is both humiliating and humbling to 
discover that a single generation after the events that constructed 
me as a public personality, I am remembered as a hairdo."  

For one thing, she says, it reduces a politics of liberation to a 
politics of fashion.  

It was 30 years ago that Davis was catapulted to international 
prominence by two pivotal events. First, she was removed from her 
teaching position in the philosophy department at the University of 
California at Los Angeles as a result of her involvement with the 
radical Black Panthers and membership of the Communist Party.  

At the time, Ronald Reagan - then governor of California - vowed she 
would never teach in the State again. Today, she is professor in the 
History of Consciousness Department at the University of Santa Cruz, 
south of San Francisco.  

More dramatically, in 1970, she was placed on the FBI's 10 most 
wanted list, driven underground, arrested after an intense police 
search, and charged with kidnapping, murder and conspiracy in 
connection with a shoot-out at Marin County courthouse, in northern 
California.  

Her incarceration, for a total of 16 months, prompted a worldwide 
"Free Angela Davis" campaign. When eventually she came to trial she 
was acquitted.  

Today, she is a tireless campaigner for the abolition of the "prison 
industrial system" and critic of "the institutionalised racism of the 
criminal justice system", of which, she argues, Australian Aborigines 
and American black activists such as Mumia Abu-Jamal are victims.  

"Almost 2million people are currently locked up in the immense 
network of US prisons," she explained in a recent story. "More than 
70per cent of the imprisoned population are people of colour.  

"Coloured bodies constitute the human raw material in this vast 
experiment to 'disappear' the major social problems of our times. 
Once the aura of magic is stripped away from the imprisonment 
solution, what is revealed is racism, class bias and parasitic 
seduction of capitalist profit."  

Mass incarceration is as much a threat to liberty in Australia as it 
is in America, she says. "The problem is global." Two of the largest 
private prison companies in the US, the Corrections Corporation of 
America and Wackenhut Corrections Corporation, are active in 
Victoria, she says.  

Inevitably, Davis's jailhouse experiences, chillingly described in a 
1974 autobiography, continue to inform and inspire her campaign for 
the abolition of prisons. She has also described, movingly, the 
effect on her of learning, while studying overseas, that four 
childhood friends had been killed in the fire-bombing of a church by 
white racists.  

"I carried around in my head for many years an imagined 
representation of the bombing's aftermath that was far more 
terrifying than any cinematic image of violence ... the fixed eyes of 
Carole's and Cynthia's bloody, decapitated heads and their 
dismembered limbs strewn haphazardly among the dynamited bricks ..."  

The ghosts of those slain will never be exorcised, but Davis insists 
that her political career owes more to her upbringing than to any 
specific events. "People often ask what caused me to dedicate my life 
to politics. But there was no one cause. No epiphany.  

"I grew up from a very small child with a sense of a need to fight 
for justice. For that I must be very thankful to my parents."  

Davis was born and grew up in a middle-class neighbourhood in 
Birmingham, Alabama, that was dubbed "Dynamite Hill" following Ku 
Klux Klan attacks on black families being integrated into previously 
white areas.  

Her parents taught in the public school system, though her father 
later opened a petrol station. From an early age, Davis attended 
civil rights demonstrations with her mother, who was a leading 
activist in the Southern Negro Youth Congress, an organisation 
associated with the Communist Party.  

A straight-A student, also proficient at music and sport, Davis went 
to school in New York before moving to France to spend an 
undergraduate year at the University of Paris, where she studied 
Marxism, learnt more first-hand of the treatment of racial minorities 
... and made a dazzling personal impression.  

According to a story in Life in 1970, "Her beauty was so striking 
that men followed her down Paris streets and stumbled over each other 
to light her cigarettes. She seemed not to notice them."  

Philosophers, as Karl Marx once wrote, "have interpreted the world in 
various ways. The point, however, is to change it." Angela Davis 
agreed.  

After completing her bachelor's degree in New York and studying 
philosophy at the prestigious Goethe-Institut in Frankfurt, she 
returned to California to complete her MA under the supervision of 
the leading Marxian scholar Herbert Marcuse.  

Immediately, she became a civil rights activist, initially working 
alongside members of the Student Non-violent Co-ordinating Committee 
and the Black Panthers, groups with which she later became 
disillusioned.  

She also joined the Communist Party, for which she ran for the United 
States presidency. Eight years ago she was "purged" from its 
leadership after a row over restructuring.  

The spotlight of publicity may have been directed elsewhere, passions 
may have cooled, but over the past 25 years Davis has continued the 
fight, lecturing in all 50 of the United States, as well as in 
Africa, Europe, the Caribbean and the former Soviet Union.  

Occasional bomb scares, such as one that disrupted a meeting in New 
Jersey recently, remind her that while she may no longer be 
"America's most wanted woman", her views are still sufficiently 
dangerous to provoke the threat of violence.  

Apart from her university commitments, she has been a prolific writer 
of articles and books. Her most recent, Blues Legacies and Black 
Feminism, examines the relationship of race and music through the 
songs of Gertrude "Ma" Rainey, Bessie Smith and Billie Holiday.  

She is working on a book about the prison industrial complex and 
planning speaking tours to Europe and South America as well as 
Australia. While here she wants to meet Aboriginal women and talk on 
a black radio station.  

She is considering a suggestion that she stand for public office 
again, this time as a Green candidate. "I'd only agree in the context 
of educating people and raising public consciousness about issues," 
she says.  

WHATEVER her decision, her workload, always demanding, has become 
daunting. "Angela's schedule is just a mess," says her business 
manager, Annette Goldman Mosqueda. "She is so terribly busy. She 
never stops." Worse, Davis only recently recovered from a serious 
fall, sustained while chasing her dogs near her home in Oakland, 
across the bay from San Francisco.  

Indeed, telephone callers to her office are greeted with a recorded 
message that she will not be available for any further engagements 
until the northern autumn. Relenting to speak to the Herald, Davis 
admits, "Right now, I feel utterly overwhelmed. My activism and my 
research overlap. Though I am on sabbatical from the university, it 
is difficult to find space for the things I want to do personally and 
politically."  

Davis, who has remained single despite being loved for her courage 
and charisma by legions of admirers, dismisses the suggestions of 
comrades that her political career has involved considerable personal 
sacrifices.  

"Things could have turned out differently," she says, seemingly 
uncomfortable at being asked to address private issues, "but I do not 
separate my personal and political life. That is the way I have 
always lived my life."  

Modestly, Davis suggests that, yes, people like herself have made an 
impact on issues such as civil rights. But she is wary of 
celebration: "Progress, victories, call them what you will, are not 
necessarily permanent. Changes in civil rights law has not eliminated 
racism. We cannot live off the success of the past."  

Pushed, she concedes that she is occasionally nostalgic for the '60s 
and early '70s. Then, there was so much "global political passion", 
so many inspiring political thinkers, "such as Che [Guevara], Fidel 
[Castro] and [Patrice] Lumumba. We don't have that any more, 
certainly. But every generation finds its own way. It's so important 
to listen to young people. I believe that now my energy and 
inspiration comes from a willingness to work on the basis of equality 
with young people."  

So saying, she surveys the scene outside the San Francisco City Hall. 
And smiles at the '90s demonstration of youthful '60s passion.  

Angela Davis and Louise Adler will discuss The Prison Industry at 
Centennial Hall, Sydney Town Hall, from 8.30pm to 10pm next Saturday. 
Bookings (02) 9364 9400.  

This material is subject to copyright and any unauthorised use, 
copying or mirroring is prohibited.  


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