The Next Eco-Warriors Read Online Free PDF

tyranny in a time when the clock is ticking against our own self-made apocalypse? I guess only time will tell, and only the growth of this revolution—and I mean revolution —will save us.

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    JUST DAYS BEFORE THE MISERABLE END TO THE SUMMIT, I decided to do something. Instead of just watching complacently the slow death of the negotiations, I wanted to stand up against the climate tyranny. I took my camera to document the action I was about to be a part of and a chocolate bar to keep me happy. What can I say, I'm an emotional eater.
    It was a usual rainy, bone-chilling morning in Copenhagen. But this morning, I was looking for trouble. In the wee hours, I searched for convergencespots in the city that had masses of activists and less cops, as I knew there were going to be takedowns. I met up with a guy named Dave Vasey, a Canadian anti–tar sands activist I had met in Copenhagen, and we decided to buddy up that day so at least one person would know if either one of us got caught and jailed.
    Waiting outside at a subway station for a critical mass of activists, we could see that all of a sudden the police were getting ready to pounce. Letting other activists know as we skimmed our way past onlookers, we booked it for an empty highway. Just escaping arrest, we got completely lost on the stretch of cement that went as far as the eye could see, and we didn't know where else to go. Making the rounds of calls on his mobile, Dave soon found the location of a successful contingent of activists making their way to the summit grounds. We jumped a fence and ran for it.
    Before I knew it, Dave and I arm-linked ourselves to strangers, connecting to more than four thousands activists in one block. The police had taken down the three other activist blocks already. But by noon, our block had made its way close to the summit grounds; we just had to get past a fortress of riot cops. We did. Pushing and squeezing, with some getting arrested, we broke past the police barricade and onto a bridge in front of the summit.
    We were exactly where we wanted to be, the place some among us didn't believe we would reach. There we were, standing in front of the summit. To keep ourselves there, we had to hold our ground. We all became a wall holding the cops out to keep ourselves in. Dave and I were in the middle of it all. At first it was exhilarating. When push came to shove, we pushed back, and pushed back, and pushed back to keep our lines. Except soon the space between us activists became less and less and less. My body, my rib cage, my lungs felt as if they were being pressed, even flattened, until I almost couldn't inhale and couldn't see the top of anyone's head. I felt like a teenage girl in the mosh pit of a rock concert. Dave saw me and picked me out.
    We moved, but we just happened to move to the frontlines. Standing there, catching my breath and bearings, I was arm-linked again to people from around the world, people who fought on diverse issues but were unitedin this one moment, people who were the faces of a new movement, and people I was proud to stand beside. But as I stood there on the frontlines, yet again staying quiet, holding my position, and trying to look tough in front of snarling guys (this time cops), I couldn't help but think about how in war, this is usually where the soldiers get killed.
    I won't lie; I was petrified. I had already seen the police wrath firsthand in the push and shove, as they beat young and old with batons till they were bludgeoned, pepper-sprayed people directly in the eyes, and herded us like cattle. It was one of the scariest moments of my life when a cop riot van came up toward me looking as if it was going to run me over.
    But I stood my ground; so did we all. In response to their attempt to silence our opposition on the streets and kill our future on the negotiating table, our generation finally stood up and said, “No more.” We took a world stage in front of the conference center, with