The Best Moment of 2020: The Burning of the Third Precinct
By Hamilton Nolan – Dec 15, 2020
Everything else was bad
This year, wretched as it was, was not steadiĀly wretched from beginĀning to end. It was more like a wave, crestĀing right at the edge of optiĀmism before crashĀing down hard and washĀing everyĀthing back out to the black and hopeĀless sea. Itās espeĀcialĀly easy to rememĀber the high points in a year like this: They were brief moments when events broke the heavy pull of gravĀiĀty and rose up, before falling back down again.
On FebĀruĀary 22, under bright and mild blue skies, I went to a plush casiĀno on the Las Vegas strip and watched hotel workĀers vote overĀwhelmĀingĀly for Bernie Sanders in the NevaĀda cauĀcus. Bernie won by a mile, and there was a swelling sense of elaĀtionāāāthis was our time. He stood, that day, as the clear favorite for the DemoĀcĀraĀtĀic nomĀiĀnaĀtion, the man who was poised to sweep away our grotesque leader and ushĀer in a new age of humane progress. Joe Bidenās camĀpaign volĀunĀteers were stayĀing at my hotel, and I rememĀber lookĀing at them with pity as they stood around in their Biden shirts in the lobĀby, a sad bunch of misĀfits fruitĀlessĀly tryĀing to resĀurĀrect a long-dead dream. The peoĀple powĀer was on our side. The atmosĀphere was gidĀdy. There were celĀeĀbraĀtions. There were crowds. EveryĀthing was open, and you could see, just down the road, the world that we wantĀed, just waiting.
One month latĀer, Joe Biden had the nomĀiĀnaĀtion well in hand. The Las Vegas strip had been shutĀtered, along with everyĀthing else. The mighty CuliĀnary Union, whose memĀbers ran the casiĀno indusĀtry, was sufĀferĀing from 98% unemĀployĀment. New York City was in lockĀdown, the panĀdemĀic had begun to rage, and our bizarre nationĀal nightĀmare of sickĀness and death and soliĀtude and devĀasĀtaĀtion was beginĀning to unfurl in all of its horĀrifĀic majesty.
And itās been pretĀty bad since then. The year teased us with false hope, then snatched it away and unveiled a grindĀing, ceaseĀless calĀenĀdar of monotĀoĀny stirred togethĀer with tragedy. Even modĀestĀly good events like Trumpās elecĀtion loss or the makĀing of vacĀcines were leavĀened with the heavy knowlĀedge that there is an alterĀnate world where they would have turned out much, much better.
There is only one moment in 2020 that stands out as one of undiĀlutĀed elaĀtion. That moment came on the night of May 28, three days after George Floyd was killed by police. The protests that would soon sweep the nation were still cenĀtered in MinĀneapoĀlis. Around 10:00 p.m. that night, I sat a thouĀsand miles away, slackĀjawed, watchĀing a live stream of riot police evacĀuĀatĀing from the Third Precinct headĀquarĀters. The cops all scurĀried away, and proĀtestĀers proĀceedĀed to burn down the police station.
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The cops ran away and the proĀtestĀers burned down the police staĀtion. That was one of the coolest fuckĀing things Iāve ever seen.
Is that immaĀture? I donāt care. The cops ran away. The peoĀple burned down the police staĀtion. Take that! StuĀpid cops! If the sheer cinĀeĀmatĀic gall of such a thing does not fill you with some levĀel of delight, you are too mature. You have allowed an imporĀtant part of you to die. I pity you. You see, norĀmalĀly, cops chase peoĀple. Police come into our homes and do what they want. In this case, the peoĀple chased the police. And they went into the policeās home, and they burned it the fuck down. Now do you see? This was beauĀty. This was, for a few hours at least, the triĀumph of hope. It was like watchĀing a very ephemerĀal war being won. I do not care that one of the peoĀple latĀer indictĀed for this was a right wingerāāāthat just makes that night a very rare examĀple of the entire politĀiĀcal specĀtrum achievĀing a comĀmon goal. I do not care to hear any ratioĀnal arguĀments about what such an action did or did not āaccomĀplishā in a cold, anaĀlytĀiĀcal sense. Life is full of injusĀtices large and small, of powĀerĀful instiĀtuĀtions that subĀject us to all manĀner of unnecĀesĀsary inconĀveĀniences and outĀrages, and nothĀing embodĀies this perĀpetĀuĀal state of unfairĀness more than a police staĀtion. SomeĀtimes it is necĀesĀsary to see the powĀer of the peoĀple in action, just to feel alive. I will tell you what this action accomĀplished: It was aweĀsome. We all needĀed that.
This was a bad year. But it was also the year that the cops ran away, and peoĀple burned down the police staĀtion. I guess you nevĀer can tell when your luck is going to turn around.
Featured image: CARLOS GONZALEZ/STAR TRIBUNE VIA GETTY IMAGES
Hamilton Nolan is a labor reporter for In These Times. He has spent the past decade writĀing about labor and polĀiĀtics for GawkĀer, SplinĀter, The Guardian, and elseĀwhere. You can reach him at Hamilton@InTheseTimes.com.
