Public Comment

I always think I've seen it all. I yawned a little during the recent knife fight over the Republican battle for Speaker of the House having been part of the earliest People's Park meetings which patiently harbored international strays of nearly unintelligible stripe, a deliberate custom which proved a valuable, albeit creative challenge. Free Radio Berkeley's earliest meetings were routinely fiascos; champions of profanity facing off with the community mission-driven over the best illustration of free speech. I did hard time at Occupy, and then there were the cascade of nonprofits I worked for, one of which sat pleasantly by while one employee graphically described his weekend workshop with a group willing to give each other naked presentations on the assumption that this would be valuable while clearly it was at the very least lucrative for the organizers. 

But the Berkeley Tenants Union's relatively public disintegration is enabled by intelligent people at meetings during which absolutely no business directly connected to the organization's mission or purpose is any part of the agenda, let alone allowed discussion. I've witnessed, by request, two such meetings at this point, and witnessed the dubious business of valuable community members subjected to a pointless purge.  

No attendees without rapidly shrinking "steering committee" status were allowed to speak, ensuring perfect insularity. Like the Hotel California, you can check in, but you can never leave without the echo of disparaging dialogue following you because it's now embedded in the bylaws and minutes, including the specific use of people's given names - sometimes only first names. Here's my creative example: 

"Special meetings may be called by the chair, the Executive Committee, or a simple majority of the board of directors, but not by Susie Creamcheese because she is such a butthead. A petition signed by five percent (5%) of voting members may also call a special meeting or if Richard Chucklehead thinks we should do it unless somebody tells Susie Creamcheese, at which point the meeting is cancelled." Yes, I made that up. But it is that bad right now in the vague name of nebulous goals such as, "so we can move on." If I hear "so we can move on" one more time I'm one nonviolent political activist who's going to punch somebody. 

I've been personally targeted. It's no fun. I've been sued for a quarter million dollars by the UC regents, framed by former Chief of Police Dash Butler and former City Manager Michael Brown, both of whom had to resign when news footage video revealed their creative testimony. I have a concussion right now as I write, the result of an assault by the same man who has repeatedly assaulted me yet never been arrested despite witnesses, video, and even videotaped confessions. It can suck being a politically engaged person; the police dismiss you, hogtie you, or both. 

But as small as it might look in comparison to be marginalized by a community group, it remains, to me, a serious matter. In my experience it reveals more about the weakness of the group than the group's targets, in this case two people whose demeanor couldn't be more distinct but in both cases is being cited as equally objectionable without even a kite length of connection to any actual policy issue. 

One steering committee member launched a loose-leafed accusation of racism unattached to any comment, any person, any policy, anything in particular said at any meeting, just a basket of implications that flew through the meeting unquestioned which apparently hit some unknown wall and stuck, because it appeared to satisfy all speaking parties that some applicable evidentiary standard had been met. 

I know two of the people now apparently purged from the Berkeley Tenants Union's Steering Committee, and know that such immense talent and institutional memory tends to find welcome just down the road. But it pains me to watch as storied a group as BTU devour itself pointlessly; a public putsch tends to cause as much difficulty as it is purported to solve. To quote one of my favorite poems from out of Occupy; 

the drunk at your general assembly 

is like a basking shark 

with minimal movement 

and a wide mouth 

he nourishes himself 

in a vast migratory pattern 

he annoys some 

he frightens others 

but he is a participant 

exclude him 

at your ecological peril 

My most radical thought after watching this dubious passion play is of Amos Tuckahoe, torn out of the park he called home, thrown out of Alta Bates because he had no hope of recovery. My household rented a hospital bed, put it in our shared household's living room, opened up all the windows so he could smoke indoors, and let him live there for the brief period he had left. It made all the difference, perhaps to him, but certainly to us. We are not at all alike, most of us, and none of us perfect. But dang it if we aren't all one.  

Institutional memory is often reposed in the long-term community members whose age, style, and diction may be found comic, if not offensive. One relatively new Berkeley resident told me recently that he didn't mind that the IKE kiosks involuntarily vacuumed up his cell phone data as he passed by since they were a "symbol of progress." He had little if any concept of private information. He couldn't imagine anyone caring. We might still be Berkeley, but we are a long way from Cointelpro. 

BTU's point and purge program does nothing to address the cascade of scandals they and the Rent Stabilization Board should address with gravity and humility. It's an embarrassment when a group insists that supporting a tenant slate is inconsistent with also supporting an independent voice, for example. In this community in particular, it is just silly. Our community is deep with talent, rich with history, and steeped in exceptions in every creative respect. 

My advice to BTU after having witnessed two of these purge meetings, is that a community-wide purge of everyone from everything be scheduled immediately and subject to no cancellation, points of order, or motions to adjourn. After which we take a long, deep breath and get back to work.