Send in the troops

Maniacal security measure led pumped up troops to go on a rampage against anti-globalisation protesters at the G8 meeting in Genoa, while heads of state ducked past and paid lip service to poverty alleviation, writes Faiza Rady
I was taking in the infernal scene of a water cannon truck cleaving through clouds of tear gas when I felt a massive blow to the back of my head. For a second my vision whited out -- I had been hit by a police truncheon. My mind was reeling. More truncheon blows rained on me. "This is a mistake. They'll stop soon," I kept thinking. They didn't. -- John Eliot, British journalist covering the Genoa demonstrations
Well in advance of the G8 meeting in the port city of Genoa, Italian authorities had planned things with meticulous care. Little was left to chance in the way of surprise attacks -- the Interior Ministry seemed to take its cue from Israeli zoning plans in the occupied territories -- but when all was said and done, one demonstrator didn't make it home.
Genoa police divided the city into various shades of no-go zones. Off-limits to "everybody" -- i.e., residents, visitors and demonstrators alike -- the "red zone" was demarcated as the G8 conference venue, where the developed world's leaders were scheduled to meet in the grandiose Palazzo Ducale. A Renaissance palace and the seat of the historic rulers of the city, the Genoa dukes, the palace provided visiting heads of state with a princely meeting centre. Also included in the red zone were the city centre and Genoa's imposing Old Port, featuring a magnificent waterfront, where world leaders would be safely tucked away on board a luxury cruiseliner, the European Vision, at a reported cost of $2.9 million.
Bordering the palatial no man's land -- duly fenced off with a four-metre-high steel wall, the "yellow zone" was to act as a buffer zone. Demonstrations were allowed to take place within the yellow zone's perimeters, but the area could easily be cordoned off.
Bracing themselves for serious warfare, the authorities put security forces on high alert. Besides deploying a police contingent of some 20,000 men, the Italian government also mobilised auxiliary paramilitary forces; army and navy servicemen, in addition to a special anti- globalisation squad, appropriately called the Guardia Finanze. Mobilising for battle, however, is always a costly enterprise. Italian taxpayers will have to dish out a staggering $110 million to pay for the city's state of siege.
Other potent mobilisation efforts included the positioning of surface-to-air missiles at Genoa's Christopher Columbus airport. This sophisticated land-based system consists of missiles capable of a range of 15 kilometres. Defending the extraordinary deployment of offensive military hardware, the Ministry of Interior insisted that the decision to install the missiles was by no means excessive. "There's no excessive precaution," declared military spokesman Colonel Alberto Battaglini. "The measure may seem open to criticism, but in reality, it is merely to act as a deterrent against any aerial incursion during the summit."
Intent on clearing the ministry's otherwise exemplary record, the colonel conveniently backed down from charging any particular anti-globalisation group with having "aerial incursion" capabilities. Instead, Battaglini evoked the daunting spectre of "terrorist attacks" led by none other than the West's favourite all-purpose bogeyman: Osama bin Laden. Last but not least, the city's "security" strategy sported some ingenious innovations, like a sewage inspection campaign.
Not to be accused of a failure to think ahead, the government carefully reasoned that the deployment of missiles and other military hardware would likely exact a human toll. Since late June, a room was set aside at the Genoa city hospital as a temporary mortuary, and body bags were ordered well ahead of time. Since early July, 200 body bags have been neatly stockpiled in anticipation of a major police onslaught against "unruly" and "violent" demonstrators. Anticipating the arrival of some 120,000 activists representing more than a thousand anti-capitalist and anti- globalisation groups, including left-wing political parties and trade unions, the police meant serious business. They would naturally deploy their arsenal in full gear and, if need be, shoot to kill.
Equipped with truncheons, water cannons, tear gas and live munitions, Italian security forces went on a two-day rampage, transforming the city into a steaming and pungent war zone. In an effort to prevent activists from entering the red zone, police fired endless rounds of tear gas and clubbed demonstrators freely. In the course of two days of protests, some 400 people would be hospitalised due to police abuse.
But at the end of the day, only one body bag would serve its purpose. It was used to cloak the mutilated body of Carlo Guiliani, the first known martyr among the growing legion of anti-globalisation activists. Last Friday, a paramilitary conscript -- whose identity has been withheld by the Ministry of Interior -- shot Guiliani, a 23-year-old anarchist, in the head when he hurled a fire extinguisher at a carabinieri van. Caught in the crossfire of a brutal police onslaught, Guiliani was among a crowd of demonstrators who defended themselves by hurling rocks and any other readily available object at their assailants. As Guiliani fell to the ground in a pool of blood, he was run over by a carabinieri vehicle backing over his body. Guiliani was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital.
The son of a trade unionist with a militant working class background, Guiliani was mourned by his comrades, who placed flowers, cards and candles on the spot where he was assassinated. "I have known him for years. He was an ordinary kid," said Attilio Rattu, a friend of the slain youth.
Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi deplored the killing, but could do little more than revert to the anti-poverty rhetoric used by the G8 to address anti-globalisation rioting. "I regret what happened. It is contrary to [our] efforts and the work the G8 has carried forward to combat poverty and world epidemics," said Berlusconi. The prime minister's sentiments concerning poverty eradication efforts were echoed by other leaders, who unanimously concurred that current market forces were the only sure way to deliver people from poverty.
The anti-poverty slant of the G8 came as no surprise to the activists, who have grown accustomed to the "new mythology" of the "free marketeers." "The World Trade Organisation [WTO] has suddenly been redefined as the ultimate institution of the poor, even though it is the poor who bear the highest social and ecological burden of WTO rule," commented prominent Indian writer and activist Vandana Sheeva.
Far from getting better, there is ample evidence that things are getting worse. As a result of the US-sponsored global de-regulation drive under the market economy, massive poverty continues to coexist with extreme wealth and obscene income disparity continues to rise. The debt burden to the World Bank and the Monetary Fund is choking impoverished African countries, who dish out an average 105 per cent of their gross domestic product on interest payments alone, while millions are denied basic health and education services. The figures have become as familiar as the neo-liberals' knee-jerk poverty alleviation posture. Beyond the confines of Genoa's palatial residences, the G8's new mythology is therefore unlikely to break much ground.
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