by JULIET WATERS

As Naomi Klein points out in Fences and Windows, “The irony of the media-imposed label ‘anti-globalization’ is that we in this movement have been turning globalization into a lived reality, perhaps more so than even the most multinational of corporate executives or the most restless of jet-setters.” Over the last few years, the forces of “anti-globalization” have been doing a hell of a lot of globetrotting—attending conferences throughout North America, in Europe and Brazil. And through an intricate Internet network, citizens from countries who have imposed NAFTA have been solidifying relationships with people from the countries most disastrously affected by it.

Klein’s first book, No Logo, has become the standard primer for universities, police forces and anyone who wants to understand the dynamics of the protest movement. But Fences and Windows, a collection of Klein’s articles, columns and speeches in the last two years, is more readable and interesting. Forced to condense her ideas, Klein has made them sharper and more entertaining. One can refer to her first book for the dry factoids; here Klein writes about the movement with more passion and conviction. And, of course, since the publication of No Logo—within weeks of the Seattle protests—the movement has become much more interesting.

Some material is dated. But sandwiched between this are events that few North American activists attended, like the first World Social Forum in Porto Alegre, Brazil. A fascinating cross section of older leftists, younger anarchists and Brazilian celebrity culture, Klein describes the opening ceremonies as “Socialist Realism meets Cats.”

Certain insights emerge through reminiscence. When Klein’s eulogizes the death of a protester at the hands of the Genoa police, she blames it, interestingly, on the liberal left. The real scandal is the “lack of investigation by journalists, the lack of outrage from left parties, from academics, from NGOs that exist to protect freedom of expression… If the police had faced one-10th of the scrutiny this movement has, maybe the brutality we saw last month in Genoa wouldn’t have happened.”

This “scrutiny” has put Klein in a difficult position. If she writes a column about an emerging leader in the movement, that person will inevitably be arrested by police the minute they arrive at a protest. Demystifying the movement to mainstream readers, however, is essential if one is going to argue that their civil liberties are worth protecting. Her columns tend to be more about places, groups, issues and injustices than individuals, partly to protect the players, but also because the movement tends as a rule to shy away from hierarchical structures.

While Klein generally defends the anarchy, she recognizes that there’s going to have to be changes to survive the setbacks imposed by Sept. 11: the increased violation of civil liberties and the diverting of funds—once promised to social programs—towards increased security. The movement that has always been best at spontaneity is going to have to become better at synthesis. Even before Sept. 11, however, the movement was in danger of becoming a series of “McProtests.” Klein asks, “Is this really what we want—a movement of meeting stalkers following the trade bureaucrats as if they were the Grateful Dead?”

Anyone entering the movement now will be doing so at a difficult and crucial moment. Klein’s book is essential reading, a little red book that outlines the issues and problems that will have to be debated. And since part of the proceeds go to the Fences and Windows fund for activist legal defence and popular education, it’s also a great Christmas present. :

Fences and Windows: Dispatches From the
Front Lines of the Globalization Debate
by Naomi Klein, Vintage, pb, 268pp, $22.95