Sleepless in Seattle: last November the world's trade ministers and corporate suits gathered in the city of Boeing and Bill Gates for another cosy round of free-trade deals …

New Internationalist, April, 2000 by Anita Roddick

As we gather at 6.00 am, it is absolutely pouring with rain. The early-morning protesters are a sea of red and yellow anti-WTO ponchos punctured with banners and puppets, standing out in the dark drizzle.

We bump into John Vidal from the Guardian newspaper in Britain, poncho-less and soggy, and head off with the crowd, alongside a jaunty papier mache cow propelled by six legs. We march towards the Paramount Theatre, where the opening ceremonies for the WTO's Third Ministerial are to be held. Protesters' groups meet and break up and we wonder where the plot is. Short rows of ridiculously overdressed police seem relaxed.

But not for long. Outside the Sheraton Hotel protesters soon gather in strength, lock arms -- and the strategy to stop the meeting kicks in. Suited and frustrated delegates try to dodge past us. We tighten our grip on neighbouring arms and stand firm. Many delegates give up and stand, helpless, in confused, suited groups on the other side of the street, clutching their papers and wondering what to do. The crowd of protesters thickens, the rows of police tighten. Anticipation and tension seep into the air. And the time ticks on, past the supposed opening ceremonies of the WTO.

The faceless, black-geared, over-armed figures of the Seattle police look like something out of Star Trek, with a heavy portent of potential brutality. Their long truncheons poised at an identical angle, their visors down and their feet the same distance apart. We chant the very American `WTO -- Hell, No!' slogans and drums fill the air, everyone reminds everyone that this is a peaceful protest, and we sit down in the road in front of the police. Our right to non-violent and effective demonstration against injustice.

Then, with the whole world watching, everything changes. An armoured tank appears clad with police. The row of police bends down and puts on gas masks. They face us and tighten the straps of their masks.

We don't get any warning. But we are running with the crowd, spluttering in shock as the first cloud of tear gas in the Battle of Seattle bursts into the air. Some still sit -- covering their eyes in pain. We are momentarily rooted to the spot as we watch a protester being beaten by police across the front of a truck. The cry of `Shame!' goes up and is chanted in outrage. The momentum shifts as people turn to face the police. I shout until I feel hoarse. The sound of that cry will always stay with me.

The images fill front pages around the globe. The reality shocks me to the core. And enforces my resolve to do whatever I can to campaign for human rights, abused and ignored by trade rules which cut to profits -- no matter the human cost.

Wednesday

I'm holed up in a Seattle bedroom, doing radio interviews -- the media are particularly interested in my perspective as a businesswoman. All I can hear are police sirens. I'm a few blocks away from the protest march. Clinton is on the TV referring to the protest as a Hoopla! Here he is, falsifying with another myth -- that the WTO is helping an already endangered species in America, the family farm. He is comfortingly soothing the world with the notion that they are direct beneficiaries of globalization. Hasn't anyone told him that the only ones that receive subsidies in America are huge agribusinesses? Hearing this you certainly get a feeling of institutionalized untruths. Kennedy said it all: `The great enemy of truth is not the lie -- deliberate, contrived and dishonest, but the myth -- persistent, persuasive and unrealistic.'