The veteran activist, campaigner and trainer, Daniel Hunter, who drafted the organizing guide for The New Jim Crow and has advised nonviolent movements around the world teaches core principles in the gripping story of casinos coming to Philadelphia and creating a “done deal” with government. People organized and the casinos outspent their effort 200:1. The people still won. They had people and soul, but strategy was essential. Here it is… The reference numbers are to the kindle edition to Strategy & Soul: A Campaigner’s Tale.
Our movement was outspent by hundreds of millions of dollars. Every local official resisted us. Newspapers chastised us. The governor derided us. Private investigators were hired against us. Thugs threatened and even attacked us. And the state supreme court suspiciously and consistently sided against us. On a good day, we had confidence we could win—even with the odds against us. This conviction tells you something about our movement 82
We believed in people power. We had faith in folks’ ability to organize and overcome long-shot odds. That we were able to make huge wins shows our correctness in thinking David can beat Goliath, even when Goliath has deep pockets and overwhelming political support. What that conviction doesn’t show is the strategy. The uncertainty. The skills. The mistakes. The heart. The soul. It doesn’t show you how we organized or used direct action to feed our success (which, though substantial, was not complete). 87 “Casino-Free Philadelphia is basically a shell organization with no plans or clear leadership, but we’re all open to whatever good ideas emerge. So what advice can you give us?” 329
First off… you’re stuck on their timeline. It’s gripping you, as if you’re going to win or lose on the day of licensing. As long as you’re on their timeline, you are going to lose.” 332
“You don’t have a plan, and that’s a problem. Your opposition clearly does. Though direct action can help, it’s not a cure-all without a strategy. 337
Right now, a good 80% of Philadelphians want casinos—of course, all they’ve (the opposition has) heard is jobs and revenues, no debate on neighborhood development.” I paused. “To win, you need more people on your side—and that means you need to find a value bigger than one that’s just about casinos. You need to tap core values. Unfortunately, your actions have all been routine and don’t do that. Rather than rallying or marching, could we organize bold, courageous actions, like a big anti-casino carnival or something?” 338
Breaking out of defeatism
rulers cannot govern without consent
cutting unwinnable issues into a campaign
heads we win, tails you lose
making each one-on-one meeting fruitful
being bold attracts attention
the first rule of online organizing • no more marches or rallies347
“That’s not a strategy,” the organizer half-shouted. “You can lobby the state house all you want, but they’re not going to change their minds. They cashed their checks long ago.” 368
It was like he was passing his trauma onto us. Stay small! Be cautious! It grated on my skin, 381 The casinos had too much sway with the PGCB and politicos. Our Goliaths could easily withstand those strategies—just as they could ignore actions that merely protested against them or expressed our outrage, like marches or rallies. We needed a slingshot. And we needed it fast. 396
“You can’t win if you’re stuck reacting,” said middle-aged Philippe, waving his hands energetically. “That’s the first lesson of campaigning. 405 They needed a way to get on the offensive and not just talk about individual plant closings, but the government’s large-scale plan to dismantle the union and privatize the industry.” 407
“They needed a campaign to seize the initiative by appealing to an unassailable value, one that all but the most hostile person could agree with. I thought to myself, ‘What’s a widely shared value here that’s being violated?’ And then it hit me: transparency. 411
Operation Transparency. Its goal was straightforward: force the government to release all strategic planning documents related to the plant closings. “The campaign uses the value of transparency like a fulcrum, to pull people to our side of the debate. Instead of defensively responding to plant closings, we’re on the offensive.” 416 “You can’t win a debate framed as casinos or no casinos,” I said. “With the city’s current sentiments, we’d lose right away. We need to speak to a higher value to tilt people to our side… 422
Campaign timeline. It started with a public ultimatum asking for the release of all documents and continued with cute, media-friendly actions, like an Easter Egg Hunt, during which union members searched the plant for planning documents to emphasize the point. One local had a member dress up in a white bunny rabbit suit armed with a magnifying glass. “For three months we used actions to build a media presence and our base, all the while giving our opponents time to do the right thing,” Philippe said.
“Since any worthy goal needs a way to carry it out, our tactics escalated to a culminating action I’ve used before: the nonviolent search and seizure, where we go to their offices and liberate the plans.” 425
Jethro chuckled and grinned, “Your action was your message.” Philippe clapped, “Exactly! We weren’t going to wait for Canada Post to sit on its hands, ignoring our requests or rallies. We were creating a dilemma demonstration, where no matter the outcome, we win. 432 Top of Form
I knew that for Philippe and me, the document search wasn’t a stunt. It was the direct action approach—what I had learned ever since I was eight. 438
Nobody can make you do anything. There might be consequences, but my choices are my own, and nobody can force me do something against my will. That changed my relationship to every boss, teacher, and police officer ever since. 444
Philippe and I saw the world through a lens that showed us power resides in the bottom, in the workers and the governed. Most people picture power as residing up at the top and flowing downward. But we saw those at the bottom as having great power via their consent or refusal to do what those at the top ask. That’s the heart of a direct action philosophy. 448
People provide these services to the ruler through a variety of organizations and institutions. If the people stop providing these skills, the ruler cannot rule.” 455 at was the heart of the document search—ending citizen passivity by challenging an abusive organization. 457 We model transparency by laying out our complete timeline, to help get people off the PGCB’s timeline and put citizens back in the driver’s seat. That gives the media time to cover us and time for your neighbors and others to digest our bold dilemma demonstration. Because we can’t win if this is just about casinos. We need to use a dramatic action to carry our framing.”459
The mechanics, the framing, and the use of a public timeline. 464 After short pleasantries, he whipped out a pen and began a barrage of razor-sharp questions. “Exactly which documents do you want?” 481
“All the casino-related planning documents, like site plans,” I said. “The casinos published their original site plans long ago. But most of them have radically shifted their plans and we have not been able to see them. For example, I heard TrumpStreet’s casino proposal added twelve more acres to its site. It’s the updated documents you’re seeking?” 484 “Yes,” I said. “We’re trying to make an ask that makes sense to anyone. Shouldn’t people get to see updated plans of a massive casino building across from their house?” Ed looked at us with great intensity. “Why stop at updated site planning documents? Why not revenue planning projections?” “We did not know about those,” I said. “Those would be good, too,” Jethro said. Ed skimmed the flyer. “If you get the documents released, what then?” 490
“So you go to Harrisburg, do the action. If you get arrested, what will you do then?” “Create headlines,” I said. “Delegitimize the PGCB and the licensing process. Build momentum against whichever casinos get selected or, in the best case, make enough obstacles so the PGCB can’t go through with the licensing.” “These other little actions on the timeline? What do they do?” “They give us time to organize,” I said. “Our campaign needs an arc, time to raise the issue in the public’s eye and get into people’s consciousness. Plus, we need time to build pressure on the PGCB.” His questions continued on and on. Under the scrutiny of Ed’s mind, the campaign lost its glamour. “The ultimatum page is excellent,” he concluded. “The rest”—the tactics and direct action, apparently—“seems sketchy.” 503
Jethro’s savvy organizing experience made him see it differently. He knew organizing is about starting wherever people are, using their core values to move into action for social change. “Ed gave us a lot of important information. We know more about what parts we have to tighten up, especially explaining the point of the direct action. It’s not a failure, it’s just more information on how to bring Ed a step closer. If Ed won’t get arrested with us or even endorse us, I bet he’ll tighten up our document demands.” 517
Hone our vague demands into eight core requests: case files for each of the casinos; social, environmental, and crime impact studies; hearing presentations; revenue projections; updated site plans; updated traffic plans; architectural drawings; and a complete history of casinos’ past commitment to communities—all kept secret by the PGCB. It was the first time—but far from the last—that I saw Jethro’s brilliance at making even “unsuccessful” meetings count, by giving everyone a chance to help the campaign, no matter where they were. 522
Philippe wrote back quickly, “Yes, you are out of you mind. And that’s why I love you. Remember to breathe, and laugh at the whole mess!” It felt silly to take a deep breath in front of my computer, but I tried. I had been so caught up in creating something new, I forgot that most new campaigns suffer this moment: testing whether the campaign’s vision and organization is strong enough to weather forces outside of the womb. It felt crazy. Our capacity was so tiny that to carry out the campaign we absolutely had to grow. Yet that’s exactly what a campaign should do. The goal should be inspiring and bold enough that its capacity needs to grow and expand. Our wildly ambitious timeline and zany actions were part of what made the campaign interesting; when people saw them, they’d want to join—or so I hoped. 540
Convinced that the campaign was ready, Jethro and I emailed our listserv and five media contacts. 550 I was of two minds. One was proud our press calls had convinced skeptical reporters that we were serious and would offer a dramatic storyline. Most reporters couldn’t help but ask, “If they don’t give you the documents, are you seriously going to walk into their offices and just take the documents?” I would grin widely and silently point to our document, which laid out everything. But I hadn’t been this nervous before an action for years. It wasn’t only my anxiety about leading a confrontational action. What weighed most heavily was that we were promising everyone an escalating, two-month campaign—but we didn’t have the organizational resources to back it up. Consciously, I chose to act from a place of confidence. I had been a trainer for years, which had taught me that I had a choice on how to present. 562
To the crowd, Jethro read from the ultimatum, “People have a right to see plans of what is being built in this city. If these documents are not made public by December 1 at high noon, we will be forced to search for the documents ourselves. We are prepared to go the full lengths of nonviolent civil disobedience to assert our right as citizens for this information, including carrying out a Document Search on the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board’s offices in Harrisburg, where we will liberate the texts that have not been given to us.” 573 “Now, we’re going to head in and up to the mayor’s office to try faxing a copy of the ultimatum to Tad Decker, head of the PA Gaming Control Board. We’ll also send it to Governor Rendell.” I led the contingent up to the mayor’s office. Halfway through, I discretely pulled Jethro to help lead the way—I didn’t even know where the mayor’s office was! I chided myself, 578 The gentleman made no eye contact with me as he read our ultimatum. “So you want to use our fax machine?” Well, it was our fax machine—our taxpayer dollars had paid for it, a point made to us earlier by Ed Goppelt. The stiff official glanced at the video cameras, then reluctantly ushered us into the mayor’s communications office. “They’re going to just use the fax for a minute,” he told the wide-eyed staff. Dazed, I stood at the fax machine awkwardly entering first Decker’s, then Rendell’s fax numbers. Minutes later, the fax machine printed a confirmation that the letter had been sent. Success! Our ultimatum was delivered and the campaign officially launched. I turned to Jethro, “With five reporters covering us, I think its safe to say this is the most highly covered fax transmission in Philly history!” We passed out “trick-or-treat bags” to the mayor’s communications staffers—and later to councilmembers two floors lower. Unlike the casino industry, we did not have any money to buy off politicians, so we offered them what we could afford: chocolate coins. I had added magnifying glasses, so they could help us search for the documents, and some Tastykakes, because it was rumored that Tasty Baking Company might close its doors if Trump’s casino were built, costing the city hundreds of jobs. 590
The action was cute, funny, and fairly well-executed—but not earth-shattering, with PGCB merely a non-participative fax recipient. Still, with an action each week until the December 1 ultimatum, we would get them engaged. 605 The media referred to us as “residents from throughout the city.” Not activists—that’s good, I thought to myself. Even though I am an activist, the “activist” framing has been contaminated with images of undirected outrage or random violence, not the high-ground action by citizens that we were modeling. 616 But the debate was poorly framed. Rather than transparency versus government secrecy, the article’s framing was about confidentiality and proper procedure. 620 Spokesperson Doug Harbach dismissed our accusations, saying, “We’re not running away from releasing information that the public can obtain—we’re doing this by the book, and the book is Act 71.” It was barely a rebuttal, sidestepping entirely the accusation that his organization was operating behind a veil of secrecy. That the reporter had let that slide meant we had not increased the pressure enough. But it was a start. 622 “If we are arrested doing the document search, police can hold us in jail for up to seventy-two hours. It’s an early morning action on a weekday, not a high-volume time for arrests. So we’re unlikely to have a queue of people in front of us being booked. Unless they decide to play hardball with us, I bet we could be out by later that afternoon.” “Can they stop us from going into the building?” “Yes, they could set up some barricade. Then we just do the action there. We go as far as we can to legitimately carry out a document search.” “Could they arrest us before we do the action?” 638
How many people do we need at minimum?” “Maybe double-digits. Too few and we look completely marginal.” He stared at his empty cup. I waited. His head snapped up, some internal decision made. “Then let’s get ten.” It was certainty in his voice, borne from years of organizing people. The act of setting goals set him in motion. Definite numbers freed his energy. He ran upstairs. “Grab your coat!” 663
Teamsters union had a history of using direct action to win rights. Words flashed in my mind from Dr. Martin Luther King about unearned suffering being redemptive to society. But it was too early in our relationship to push it. 694
Jethro leaned in. “It’s not right to put gigantic casinos with giant parking garages and 24/7 neon lights across from our houses. It’s not right to stomp on our say, to hide documents from us. When they’ve left us no options, taking actions into our hands is the right thing to do.” 697 Top of Form
Jethro cut him off. “I hope you’ll come to the action, even if you decide not to risk arrest. But please consider it before saying no, because it would be fun to be arrested with you. Don’t decide now.” 704 “So,” said Jethro, “will you at least come to the action next week?” “You bet,” said Ed. “It sounds like fun!” 708
Instead, we made an ally out of time. We transparently announced our direct action far in advance. That gave time for our opponents to worry about what was coming, and it gave us time to publicly escalate pressure on our opponent—with a clear escape route for them: Release the documents. “Of course, if that’s the case, maybe the PGCB will give us the documents.” Jethro looked at me expectantly, then added, “Or it could all just be a bluff, hoping we’ll call it off. Or they’ll release a portion. Either way, we have to be ready.” I nodded and asked, “Any more people sign up for the document search?” We were now in well-traversed terrain. We’d called every person on our small listserve—several times now. “Only six people,” he said. “You have any?” “I’m not having success getting any statewide groups.” 790
“The first rule of online organizing: Stop being online. Stop emailing her, and give her a call. You’ll only make up stories about each other that are probably not true.” I sighed. He was right. As much as I tried to tell myself that maybe she just missed my email or it got lost in a spam filter, my nagging fear returned that she was sticking it to us for a reason. There was already so much statewide tension set up in the divide-and-conquer strategy of how Pennsylvania brought in casinos. 818 “And that call with Doug… You did great, really great.” I exhaled and beamed. A week later, I jumped off the bus with my boombox blaring Mission Impossible’s theme song. A half-dozen supporters followed me to the State Museum auditorium in Harrisburg. The first-ever mock document search was on. 827 Top of Form
“This mock search is a practice session for our nonviolent document search. It is playful, but we are serious. The future of our city is at stake. What are they hiding? Let’s see if we can find out!” The PGCB’s penchant for secrecy had been confirmed days earlier. Their advertisements for “public” hearings reminded us there would be no chance for public testimony—and avoided saying where they would be held. After a flurry of fruitless emails with equally puzzled reporters, I finally called Doug Harbach to obtain the location. It was as if they didn’t want us there. 834 despite our small numbers, we’re getting noticed by doing something unusual, something to report on. Press don’t cover issues. They cover news stories, so, to earn press we must be new and a story, not just a litany of problems… Plus, it helps to show up where media were already coming!” 947 We couldn’t slay Goliath with conventional weapons. We had found our slingshot: direct action. 962
Empathizing with media’s needs • the second rule of online organizing • teasing the story to reporters • dealing with civil affairs • the threat terrifies more than the act • rejections can radicalize • choreographing actions to relieve tension and reveal secrecy • showing, not telling 966
Building press momentum takes effort and time. I had conscientiously sent press releases two days before the action and again the day before, and then followed up with calls to each reporter. On a good week, I’d even call after actions or to chat up reporters with campaign updates. But 970 neither utlet covered us. I learned my lesson: reporters are so busy they needed to be handed the story—including making the event easy for them to attend. 1035
Hallwatch.org and independent media gave generous coverage of the window-washing action. The Philadelphia Student Union, environmentalists in Columbus, and dozens of other groups later used the tactic themselves. The window-washing action was simple, repeatable, and carried a clear message. 1051 “We’re giving people something meaningful to do,” I said with pride. “We’re not just waiting for experts in law or political officials to save us—that’s a recipe for despair. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” 1379 never stopped to consider that the PGCB’s overreaction might be because of us. This is what legendary community organizer Saul Alinsky meant when he said, “The threat is usually more terrifying than the thing itself.” 1382
Negotiating was the white flag of surrender, picking your terms of defeat. Jethro hated politicians for offering it as their first and last option for his community. 1421 It was the night before the document search. We had just finished the training session. Trainer Michael Gagné, who had worked with Philippe during the first nonviolent search and seizure in Ottawa, spent the bulk of the training on logistics, “what if” scenarios, and our codes of behavior. It was a fine training, peaking when Michael charismatically told his story of attempting to “liberate” documents called the Free Trade Area of the Americas. It was a high-level trade negotiation between all countries in the Americas except Cuba, with NAFTA-like provisions, expanding “free” trade but restricting environmental and labor laws. Even worse, the texts were secret to everyone except heads of state and 500 business representatives. So a few weeks before the trade meetings in Québec, Michael attempted to liberate the texts, going over police barricades dressed as Robin Hood, along with ninety-eight others. The resulting public pressure coerced the Canadian government to break ranks and make them public. Exposed to public scrutiny, the plans were quickly shredded. 1448
glasses. Rather than rush the doors and create chaos, which the police could use as a pretext to take control, the action was designed to maintain control with internal discipline. Meredith and Jethro read in unison from our citizen’s search warrant, “On behalf of citizens across the state, we are here to demand the casino planning documents from the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board.” 1542 “We have consistently said transparency rests on two rights: the right for public information and the right to give meaningful input. The Gaming Control Board has denied our right to public information. Without relevant and updated information, the PGCB has therefore denied our right to give meaningful input, too.” 1545 in the silence, surging into the finale: “The right to know is fundamental to democracy. We have a right to debate casinos coming into our neighborhoods before it is too late. We know the documents are in this building, here in the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board’s offices. We are asking you, police officers and security officials, to do your duty to join with us and help retrieve the Gaming Control Board’s plans for our neighborhoods.” 1548
Then Meredith took a step. “My name is Meredith Warner. I am here to exercise my right as a citizen.” Together, they walked forward as they executed the final words of the citizen search warrant. “Please let us through.” They took six paces toward the door, as the crowd quietly inhaled. This was it. Supporters broke into a cacophony of cheers of encouragement, whoops, and a few jeers toward the police. Adrenaline and excitement kicked in as I raised my voice above the others. I wanted people on message. “Let them through! Let them through!” Others joined, until the whole crowd was thundering, their words echoing into every corner and spilling into the lobby. 1556
Pair after pair—magnifying glasses held aloft—walked calmly toward the now clogged doorway. I walked alongside Michelle McCandless and Karin DiNardi, both in wheelchairs, bringing up the rear of the seventh and final pair. 1580
Veterans of the direct action group Disabled In Action, 1621
For several hours, the PGCB shut down its offices rather than allow us to get access to some documents. Our message was embedded in our action so we didn’t need our signs or press releases to explain our action. We were showing, not telling. The PGCB was exposed for violating the widely shared value of transparency, with our action unmarred by needless confrontation with police or sideshows. The PGCB would pay for it in terribly bad press coverage and political fallout. As we got back on the buses, I felt nothing but love for the radiant faces of my fellow arrestees: 1649
These people would never again believe this was a “done deal.” They had wielded what Dr. King called “the sword that heals.” We had faced our fear and, through our boldness, revealed injustice. Now, as all eyes swiveled back to the PGCB’s licensing, we just needed to persuade others of the power of direct action. 1656
The right story gets people outside their comfort zone • setting some boundaries • don’t ritualize losing • thinking ahead and preparing counter-responses • soaking up the political terrain • communal cider and soup combat the taste of defeat 1661
“Most importantly,” I said excitedly, “they didn’t merely cover the arrests, but reported on the PGCB’s lack of transparency and the hidden documents. All the reports clearly covered our goal. Rather than a rally that just talked about the PGCB’s opaqueness, we showed it: our message was embedded in our action.” 1673
“Fourteen anti-casino protesters were arrested today at the Gaming Control Board offices in Harrisburg when they demanded to see documents about proposed casinos that they say are being withheld from the public.” The article went on to explain the documents and the history of denied requests. It was what it means to design an action to show, not tell. In the muddy waters of political theater, we told a simple story where we were the goodies, and the PGCB were the baddies—a story that would help us at our meeting today. 1679 n other words, he organized me. It was a textbook ask: clear, succinct, specific, and a next step rooted in my own interest and passion for teaching people direct action. 1693
I scanned the splendidly framed story. We wanted information. The PGCB was secretive. Instead of giving us documents, they arrested us. 1704 Jethro showed no hesitation, though I sensed him caught off guard. “I have fought ‘done deals’ before and won,” he said while returning to his seat. “Years ago, I worked as a community organizer with the Fenway community in Boston. We stopped a Fenway Park Stadium Complex that was a done deal—signed by the mayor, the governor, and all of the state representatives. But through community organizing, we were able to win.” He sounded like a friend thinking out loud about what he wanted to eat tonight. His words were slow-paced, tumbling out, like he realized what he was saying only after it came out. He flashed today’s Metro. “Actions get results. We were just fourteen people with a few supporters. Imagine what a group like you can do that has way more power than us. The community already supports you on this. You need to figure out how to get ahead of this issue, so that others can follow your lead. What can you do?” 1768
Where other organizers would start giving prescriptions, he was using strategic questions to organize them and elicit their wisdom. The tension in the room melted a little. People searched in earnest for options. A lawsuit? A public declaration? Maybe we could get PennPraxis to oppose casinos? The planning director quickly waved his hands. “We are going to stay neutral on the issue of casinos.” Jethro muttered angrily, “How can a planning process remain neutral on big-box development that impacts every aspect of it? Casinos break every rule of a civic vision with waterfront access.” Looking at Boise, he apologized. “Sorry, it’s your meeting. But we don’t have to accept the prescription of traditional institutions: the courts, legislative bodies, or formal planning processes. If those mechanisms prove themselves unable to help, you may also consider direct action, like the action we just did. What would that look like for you all?” 1778
“Direct action can win when other options are closed to you,” I concluded. “You can sit in at meetings, picket to shut down the PGCB’s meeting, or strike until the PGCB negotiates with you.” At the last remark, the bosses shifted uncomfortably. Catching myself, I stuttered, “Of course, I’m not proposing strikes. There are lots of options, like our document search, or interrupting the December 20 proceedings. You just cannot afford this meeting going forward without trying to stop it.” 1813 I sighed with relief. The conversation turned away from politicians and toward a steady flow of ideas. None were as bold as Jethro or I proposed, but that wasn’t our goal. Our goal was to encourage people to take one step outside their comfort zone. We didn’t know how they worked, what they knew, or what they could do. They were their own experts. 1821
“City and state politicians use each other to avoid taking bold and winning steps. You are a state representative. Take steps at the state. We’ll worry about city leaders.” Bill grimaced. With feeling, he said, “Jethro, you’re just going to have to teach us how to win this.” 1857 Instead, Councilman DiCicco was doing the politician’s disavowal dance: Don’t ask me, I have no power – go ask someone else. 1878 Politicians’ default stance is to avoid blame, and the best way to do that is to claim powerlessness when bad things happen. 1881 “What about a sit-in?” “For what purpose? To demonstrate we’re angry? They know that. No, it needs to make sense to the outside observer and show us as powerful.” “We’ll come up with something,” he said. We lapsed into silence. If we do something poorly, it’ll undermine our credibility for leading crisp, sharp, well-crafted actions. 1979 “I got it!” I spun on the spot where I stood. “Let’s do nothing at all.” “What?” I smiled, excited to have surprised Jethro. “Let’s not wave signs and waste energy going to their stupid hearing just so they can ignore us. Let’s ignore them. If we can’t get the ILA or large numbers of people to do something meaningful, let’s not go.” 1986
“December 20 isn’t the endpoint. It’s a beginning. So don’t show up at the point of losing.” I emphasized each word. “We want to be associated with winning, not bringing people on a two-hour trip to Harrisburg only to watch us lose.” Confident now, I remembered my coaching to well-meaning activists who scheduled their protests at the point of loss: anti-death-penalty activists holding vigils on the day of executions, anti-globalization protestors showing up outside international trade meetings, or gun-control activists marching only when someone got shot. In each case, they marked—even ritualized—the points of their loss. “As a movement, I want us to mark our victories and minimize our losses. We won’t let our opponents tell us when and where we go,” I said. Jethro caught it. “So we stay off their timeline and say, ‘This was not the end.’ But what do we tell people? They’re going to be shocked.” “Give an alternative action,” I said, grasping. “We hold a strategy retreat as soon as the licensing is over. They hit us, we have a counter-response—one that helps prepare people for future organizing.” I paused, forming my words. “We tell them we’re not going, because the PGCB has no credibility. Going to their anti-democratic, anti-transparent theatrics only adds to their credibility.” 1994
calls to delay the licensing. But I didn’t want to fall into the trap of many activist groups and avoid talking about our losses—like groups who talk about getting thousands of signatures but don’t admit those signatures had zero political impact. I wanted to be honest that, as near as I could tell, the PGCB wasn’t going to respond and would go ahead and select two Philadelphia casino licenses. I wrote as if coaching myself. “This moment—waiting and watching the licensing—can be a stressful one. We’ll hear rumors, feel frustration, disappointment, so on. You know what stress does to yourself. So here’s a word of advice: Take care of yourself. Be with the people you love—and go gentle on yourself.” “This is not the end…” I searched for a metaphor. Something to acknowledge the loss—and the chance to come back. Boxing. “It’s just round one of a long struggle. But if we get back up again, it’s not a knock-out.” “Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll be ready with a response. So join us on January 6 for our post-licensing strategy meeting to help prepare for round two.” 2014
The day before the PGCB’s licensing, over a hundred burly ILA members clustered around City Hall, sporting ILA jackets and heavy work clothes. They had asked us—the “action experts”—to set up their press conference and write and send their press release. We had done so, but once the action was underway, they had it. Facing a sizable press audience, ILA’s national vice president Jim Paylor spoke. His voice was steady and forceful, sounding like a working-class Captain Picard. “The PGCB licensing is being done without any comprehensive study of the impact on port jobs. I’ve had the benefit of working on the waterfront. It’s not just longshoremen, we’re a small part of loading and unloading cargo. There’s Teamsters who store it, there are Teamsters who move it from the pier facilities to all those who use it. There are a lot of jobs related to the waterfront that most people don’t understand or equate to the longshore industry, even accountants who work at shipping agencies. It’s a lot of jobs along the waterfront that are being threatened.” Others from the ILA and management spoke on behalf of the $17-to-$35-per-hour jobs with union benefits. All jeopardized by current casino plans. It was short. But now, in every major newspaper, the ILA would be on record as standing, in Boise Butler’s words, “prepared to take the necessary steps to protect our livelihood”—whatever necessary steps meant. 2030 “We need to build a movement based on who we are. We need a different relationship to our politicians, not someone else to be our savior. That’s the old way of working. The new way is we have a truly participatory democracy where our voices matter.” Ed nodded, letting the idea go. 2097 “This is not where I wanted to be tonight. But I couldn’t be anywhere else!” Like a convex mirror, he reflected our feelings writ large. “Our elected officials should be here standing beside us in the cold. They believe this is over, that it’s a done deal. It is not. This is not a time of mourning, it is a time for commitment to a greater struggle.” Jethro was projecting confidence into our fear and anxiety. It was the skill Stokely Carmichael most admired about Dr. King: not his oratory or strategy, but his fearlessness, and his ability to draw it out from others. 2208
groups need safety to make tough decisions
empty chairs drain energy
standing in solidarity makes a good introduction
acknowledging small wins halts self-defeating strategies
use small groups to build a container
organizers understand others’ self-interest
goals, targets, tactics
group “storming” to develop mission and ownership2221
“Keep your eyes out for ideas that excite you,” I said encouragingly, “since soon we’ll create working groups to bring them to life.” Whatever my feelings about each proposal, my job was to float above and be an encourager and motivator whenever people were bringing their best thinking. 2585 since we had been in a large group for the past hour, I knew some people needed to exhale in small groups. Too much small groups, no group cohesion. Too much large groups, group exhaustion!
I put them into small groups to identify what approaches attracted them and to suggest working groups to explore that. 2607
“If you want to be a part of it, Casino-Free Philadelphia, then you are. We empower you. This is a movement organization, and if you want to be part of it, then you are.” 2636
“What’s right in this moment?” Suddenly I found myself falling away from the conflict and relaxed into my body. My fingers unclenched and I smiled widely. I whispered to Jethro, “Just be quiet. Let this be. This is healthy.” He went quiet, but stared at me like I may have lost my mind. I stopped weighing in as the group escalated, only encouraging people to speak directly to each other. It seemed an eternal couple of minutes as the group battled back and forth, mostly over no casinos versus not Foxwoods versus no casinos in neighborhoods, with only occasional forays back into Are we Casino-Free Philadelphia or just a group of people, should we be a new organization…
The group hadn’t yet made a leap forward, and I noticed a few faces beginning to look worried, perhaps wondering what this hands-off facilitator was doing. I refused to weigh in on the content, only framing the process. “Right now, the group is raising the questions: What’s our goal? and Who are we? These are important questions.” The safety would help the group to find its own answers. Or so I hoped and prayed. 2650 Slowly, cautiously, I stood up and framed what had just happened. “It seems as though this group has made a meaningful decision. Casino-Free Philadelphia will stand behind the mission of no casinos in neighborhoods, ultimately seeing that means no casinos anywhere in this city. That is our goal. That is our mission. Is that right?” Nods from all over the room. We had just made it through a storm with its characteristics of thunder, lightning, rain, and the quiet and calm after—what those in group development call moving through a stage of chaos. I thought about explaining the concept, of how groups occasionally throw themselves into questions of mission and goals to develop more closeness. In that stage, wise facilitators let the group work itself out, beaming love and support but not weighing in on the content of the fight. But I decided there was no point. The conflicts had always been present: Am I signing up to help stop SugarHouse, too, or just Foxwoods? Do I have to believe that casinos are evil, or can I just oppose them in neighborhoods? With enough safety, the group could have an honest conflict, finding that one could even be pro-casino in this organization, if you were willing to back the shared mission. “No casinos in neighborhoods, none in Philly. Is that right?” I echoed again, teasing them to repeat it back. “That’s right!” they shouted back. We were past the storm, and suddenly, with great ease, the group sailed into the last chunk of the day. 2685
“A good movement organization is one in which it’s easy to step into leadership, and harder to get out.” 2717
Even veterans like Meredith Warner were moved. She was sensitive to the tension of organizers determining strategy versus facilitating it. She had cautioned Jethro and me of not again “importing” strategies like Operation Transparency into an unprepared group, instead of skilling up members with self-education. The latter was, she felt, a step toward bottom-up strategizing. Gathering people back from report-backs felt like soaring off a cliff. There was little to do but enjoy the scenery as people offered brilliant strategizing, stepped into leadership, and supported each other to move powerfully.
Far from that anti-war meeting where we only emerged with a rally, we had options—but more importantly, we had a more committed base, with trust and longer-term commitment. I closed with a few final words and released people on time to the warm weather. In a hopeful sign, a large contingent stayed for more than an hour to continue socializing and planning. When I finally shut 2729
I respected her vision. But she wasn’t helping me see how it would be done. I backed up. “It’s great you’re taking on leadership, and you’ve got more petition-gathering experience than any of us, and I know Jethro totally trusts you. I’m just trying to figure out the plan.” “We’ve got it covered. We’re meeting with civic groups to get access to their legions of block captains. We’re talking to press. I think Philadelphia Weekly is gonna do a cover story on us. And mayoral candidate Tom Knox is gonna donate $2,500 to us. People are fired up!” “I love the energy, I really do… I guess…” I paused. The result from the strategy retreat’s working groups had been uneven. The research group was spinning with questions, the direct action group meandering from idea to idea, and the political engagement working group was turning itself into a real North-South alliance. “Your efforts are the most direct, ready-to-roll strategy to stand in the way of casino development, but to plug people in I need to know the plan.” “We’re getting it all together right now, don’t worry. Our last meeting was great! 2770 Trained to argue and compete, lawyers rarely back down. In the last campaign I had run, lawyers had spent an hour trying to micromanage my organizing of a rally with word-smithing signs and a speakers list, until I all but ordered them to butt out. I loved Paul’s style of throwing the kitchen sink at the casinos but feared we’d spend hours bogged down, arguing over each idea. “Too complex—got it,” said Paul. “I withdraw the motion.” A brief, relieved silence ensued. “I have a few more ideas,” Paul said. I grinned. “We should include language that voids any previous laws, in case the city sneaks through a contrary law before ours is passed.” “Absolutely,” Irv said, as the lawyers drifted through word-selection minutiae. I allowed myself to zone out. 2823 Amazingly, they were keeping to their field of law, not trying to control messaging, implementation, or organizing. I knew Irv was that rare breed of lawyers willing to defer to grassroots organizers. Paul might be that, too. As the call continued, I jotted a quick email to Paul, wondering if he could fit our gaping hole left by Irv’s imminent departure to run for City Council. “You’ve got a great organizing spirit. Jet and I would love to sit down with you and just talk more about what that would mean. Interested? When can we do that?” For the next half-hour, the lawyers ripped out extraneous language and argued technicalities. Does the buffer apply to Institutional Development Districts—or just residentially zoned districts? By the end, the language was tightened to everyone’s satisfaction. The charter change would place a ballot question on the May 15 election. Voters could create a buffer zone to exclude casinos within 1,000 feet of homes, places of worship, parks, schools, or playgrounds. It would stop Foxwoods and SugarHouse but leave places in the city for a casino, away from neighborhoods. Still, far before it would get onto a ballot, we needed signatures. A lot of them. 2834
“Marc is right that it’s a huge problem that nobody has been told about this,” I said. “We need to get the word out.” Jethro stayed silent. “Look, Jethro. You’re not being clear at all. First you say you need to spend more time supporting Casino-Free Philadelphia, then you go silent to help out at NABR. Maybe it’s true you’ve been telling allies you think the No Way Without Our Say campaign isn’t the best idea. Are you behind it or not?” “I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea.” Jethro sighed loudly. “Maybe we bit off more than we can chew, between our trial on Monday for Operation Transparency, a Fishtown neighborhood meeting tonight, and a CFP meeting later this week. We need to take a deep breath and get the decision-making structure and leadership in place. I never was certain if this were the right strategy, but you seemed so certain.” “Wait. What?” I almost spat the words. “You were the one giving Anne the green light to go ahead.” “Me?” His voice soured. “I thought you were in touch with Anne. You seemed to know what’s going on!” “I only know because Shirley is talking to me. You and Anne founded CFP together, and I figured she was giving you the details.” “Anne’s a strong, visionary leader,” he said. “But she hasn’t pulled me in to take on leadership. CFP has no clear structure…” He drifted off. “It’s not fair to ask you or me to staff up something without a better structure and some funds to support us. Let’s not be martyrs.” “Then build that team. Let’s create an executive team of CFP leadership. But I need to know if you really support the charter change, because…” A thousand ways to complete the sentence fought for attention—because you got me wrapped up in this mess, so you can’t abandon me; because we are the faces of Casino-Free Philly, for better or worse; because I respect your opinion on if this is feasible. “Because if we do this, we have to clear our plates and focus. But we haven’t committed to it yet. We can still say 2860 impossible to bounce back after that. Yet, any good campaign carries risk. Fear often holds people back from setting goals that require growth and increased capacity. Or they never set goals, and just organize another one-time event, refusing to step into the boldness of campaigning. We needed boldness to win, because unless we grew, we would be swept away by the tide of political inevitability. 2890 I bit my tongue. I wanted to stand up and show him the tape of people walking past us. But courtrooms aren’t about getting to truth. They’re oppositional, with the goal of beating down the other side with a more coherent story. The question wasn’t what was true, it was what would convince the stony-faced judge. The prosecution reasserted that we had needlessly blocked the entrance, creating a fire hazard. They asked the judge for the full penalty for our deliberate, planned action. Next to me, Marj bristled. It was our lawyer’s turn. Pro bono attorney Sam Stretton called Rev. Jesse Brown to the stand. Wearing his collar, Jesse recounted how he requested to speak with PGCB officials and the heart of our story: the desire to get documents released. He never once called us protestors. We were citizens looking for documents. 2943 I couldn’t resist exploiting the teachable moment for others watching, too. “Jethro, this is what happens when we design actions based on doing what’s right. You don’t have to explain it to others or need signs or visuals—people can see for themselves the injustice. That’s the power of direct action when you design it so the action is the message.” 2982
It was textbook organizing: spending most of the time listening, finding out people’s values to understand what people most desired. In Paul’s case, he carried a vision of a city driven by citizen input, where government decisions were made at ground level next to where people lived and worked. Only then did Jethro begin talking. “We’re not going to win this by fighting as isolated neighborhoods, but together.” 3074
In minutes, Jethro had modeled classic pacing/leading. He had warmly paced with the crowd, only then leading them to the energy he wanted them to embody. Raucous crowd? Start there, with big body gestures. But for this reserved crowd, Jethro started small and expanded to the expressive boldness we desired. 3136
Petitions. She noted right away the split along gender. Men did well at transportation spots, whereas women had more success at grocery stores and schools. 3283 Brian and I gauged which avenues were working: civic associations, block captains, volunteers hitting the streets, neighborhood-based groups. And what avenues were not. Like, aside from organizers with Project H.O.M.E. getting a thousand-plus signatures, most nonprofits were too flat-footed to make it worth our time reaching out to them. And we adjusted our strategy accordingly, devoting Brian’s time to hitting the streets and training others to gather petitions. “Too many people think petitioning is scary,” he said. “But once they go out and do it, they see how easy it is. I’ll help them get started, give them tips, and show them it’s easier than they think.” 3299
I wondered if I needed approval from someone else in CFP. But we had no face-to-face meetings, no CFP-leadership calls, not even a clear sense of who was on our steering committee. Each of us did our thing. Anne, Jesse Brown, and Paul were off recruiting volunteers and who-knows-what. Jethro was jumping back in, challenging people to join the “500 Club”—his made-up name to encourage people to set personal goals for number of signatures. Shirley was wading through stacks and spreadsheets. 3305 We handed out more awards, including to Shirley for her detailed counting. “But we don’t know all the stories and successes here,” I said. “Hundreds more people have been involved, including you. So take a blank award. Fill in your name. Add an amazing accomplishment you did during this effort. To make it official, you have to get a signature from someone else on behalf of Casino-Free Philadelphia—so that means a signature from anyone in this room.” People laughed and took their awards. I had taken the idea from Serbian movement organization Otpor. When dictator Milosevic gave himself a public award, Otpor made fun of him by handing out blank certificates, encouraging people to give themselves their own awards. For us, it was a fun way to honor the multitude of stories: The over 400 volunteers who had participated, the eleven civics and four unions that signed onto the campaign. In all, 3,000 petition pages had been distributed at community meetings, talks, church services, five-year-old’s birthday parties, and even a funeral for a neighborhood activist. Babies in strollers had the petition strapped to them; a ninety-three-year-old grandmother won the award for the oldest participant. All the signatures strewn out, Ken noted, would stretch 3.6 miles long. It had taken lots of energy and less than $5,000 total, leaving under $300 in our bank account. At the end of the night, just as reporters were switching to the storyline that “Activists Still Face Steep Climb” with council, I shouted, “Finally, the news you’ve been waiting for! By our current estimate, we have achieved 26,943 signatures! Sleep well—we deliver tomorrow!” 3387
knowing what convinces politicians
being in your opponents’ shoes
getting politicians to touch your issue
not being subservient petitioners
rebounding attacks onto the opponent
power flows upward
turning our backs to stop testimony
bracing for opposition research
checking off agenda items
making media sensationalism work for you
designing two actions ahead of time
move toward the fear
play the underdog 3430
As if reading my nervousness, he coached, “Look directly above the camera. Avoid licking your lips or scratching your face. Instead of seeing the interviewers, you’ll look at a gray screen and hear the questions through this earpiece. If you look up slightly, you can see the live feed.” I nodded mindlessly, 3440
Councilmembers often pass unpopular bills when most voters—or even a powerful, organized voting bloc—disapprove, because they fear more than just losing re-elections. Politicians can bounce back from a lost election if they carry the currency most valued in politics: their political reputation. Reputations help politicians make deals, raise money, and mobilize their sycophants. On reputation, we could hit councilmembers where it hurts: threatening to tarnish them as acting to disempower the city of Philadelphia. That was the bind we were placing them in by hitching our wagon to the widely shared value of voting. Either they opposed democracy and opposed giving people their say on casinos, or they stood with the people and therefore sided with us. To make it stick, we had to show we could damage their political capital, without actually doing it before they voted against us. We had to be a credible threat, which meant avoiding appearing like a small, irrelevant margin. Whatever we did, it had to appear larger than life—or at least larger than our few hundred active supporters. 3509 “We need to take the time to teach people that lobbying isn’t just about letters or meetings. It’s speaking our minds when we see politicians at hearings, walking on the street, in the grocery store, when we see their husbands and wives, their legislative aids, anywhere.” 3537
Maybe we should put on our website faces of every councilmember, where they stand, and info for people to contact them.” “I’m on it.” I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down the note. “So why did you call, Jet?” 3543 Like a surfer on the edge of a wave, to stay afloat, we had to keep moving forward. “We have to figure out the casinos’ response to all this. What’s in their heads? 3552
“First thing, he’ll move the fight to his turf: law,” I said. “He’s vindictive. He won’t want to win, he’ll want to grind us into the ground. That means personal, below-the-belt attacks.” “I agree,” said Jethro. “But his media consultants are going to hold him back. They’ll want distance from anything really nasty, because SugarHouse needs the support of the city, even if they won’t admit it. Imagine if the mayor or DiCicco refused to show up to their red-ribbon cutting? It’d be a signal to all city departments to slow down or deny them all their permits. If the mayor had any backbone, he could effectively stop them.” My mind flooded with possibilities. Could they start rumors about us without their fingerprints on it? Sue us constantly? Physical attacks? Even as I thought of each idea, I coolly played it out, calculating responses for each scenario. It wasn’t the scenarios that scared me, it was not seeing them coming. “Whatever they do, it’ll be with a lot of ferocity,” I said flatly. “They’ve hired nearly every media consultant in the city, and almost every law firm is now connected to them.” Jethro laughed out loud. “And yet, are we scared? Another movement would be intimidated about being outspent by millions. But not us! Just another day i