My name is Max, and I am a recovering protester

I was dismayed to see, via Facebook, that a few friends had attended the so-called "tea parties" yesterday. I'm trying to be fair to them, and I'm worried that I may have formed some kind of emotional attachment to this administration that's causing a reflexive reaction of disgust.

But looking at a few pictures of the DC event, I can't help it. The folks at these things are incoherent at best; at worst, they're racist and frightening. (NB the charming guy at that link calling for the lynching of a number of congressmen.)

I was still in high school when we invaded Iraq. I remember watching the invasion on TV for the first few days (thanks, public school) and being overwhelmed with the need to do something. It was not easy to be against the war at the time, as many have said. In a small southern city it only got harder. I found support in the Quaker community, which I've felt close to ever since because of that time. I organized with them, passed out flyers and bumper stickers, used (inappropriately) my position at the school newspaper to focus our editorials on a liberal, anti-war viewpoint that certainly pissed off more people than it persuaded.

But I rarely protested. My last protest came soon after the beginning of the war, at a candlelight vigil held outside the Quaker meetinghouse, on a busy street corner in the city. Everyone linked arms, (and held candles simultaneously, which was difficult) sang, and chanted anti-war slogans. At first, I felt lifted up by the event, a sense of relief that finally the passive right-wing masses in the city would have to face the fact that we had launched a stupid, ugly war.

Not too far down from where I stood in our chain, a car pulled over. A couple of young men leaned out the window and began heckling some of the protesters, calling them "liberals" (remember when that was a dirty word?) and other such insults. One of our own, an older man with a large beard, a prominent local Quaker, began to defend himself. I don't remember exactly what he said, but the thrust was that he was a Vietnam war veteran, an experience which had taught him a hard lesson about going to war too quickly, or for the wrong reasons. He tried to speak calmly, but the young men repeatedly shouted him down until he, too, raised his voice. Pretty soon they were screaming at each other, and then the car abruptly drove off.

The experience remains a vivid one for me, as it was the moment that I soured on protests for good. I recently read (though can't find the link right now, sry) that studies have shown protests to be an effective means of social change because, at sufficient size, they force politicians to renew conversation on a certain topic. Yet my experience had been different. Politicians seemed unreachable on Iraq, and in any case I didn't care as much about them. I wanted the people around me to see that I could care about my country and want the war to stop, and I wanted them to reconsider their support. Instead, our vigil seemed to be driving them further away. Those whose support had been nominal were inflamed by what they saw as sour-grapes from the left wing of the country. I left the protest that night abruptly, and didn't attend any more. Slogans and posters didn't seem like the way to begin a conversation.

And anyway, I didn't feel effective during the Iraq protests -- nor do I think I was. Anti-war demonstrations, however well organized on the ground, were confused in their cause; they became places for liberals to go and be pissed off together, rather than an outlet for those of any political stripe to express their doubts about a dangerous war.

I provide this little story in the hopes that it proves I am at least a bit self-aware when I call out the tea parties for what they are: horrible nonsense, sour grapes that have hyper-fermented into a nationwide temper tantrum.

If anything, the tea-partiers, no matter how sincere they feel, have it worse than I did back in the early aughts. At least, billing ourselves as 'anti-war' protesters (which we all unfailingly did), our primary issue was clear, no matter how divisive all of our associated causes were. The tea partiers, in their quest for symbolism, have sacrificed even that. No one really knows what it is they're so mad about. Government spending? Where were they for the past eight years? Taxes? Tax levels are lower than in Reagan's era, and have been cut for the vast majority of Americans. The bailouts? Show me a Republican with a single better idea. Gay marriage? Sorry, but your time has passed.

Instead, what we see is a hodge-podge of conspiracy theorists ranting about the federal reserve, or Barack Obama's birth certificate. Racists, (some of the parties have been organized by Stormfront, the white pride movement) Glenn Beck fans, (i.e. people worse than racists) and survivalists fill out the ranks. The whole menagerie makes the anti-war movement seem tame by comparison.

I did attend one more protest. My freshman year of college, as an exercise in cultural anthropology, I tagged along with some pseudo-anarchist friends to a World Bank protest in DC. I found myself surrounded by anarchists, (the left-wing equivalent of survivalists) Cuba and Hamas apologists, and conspiracy theorists certain that 9/11 had been perpetrated by Zionists.

But we could only muster about 500 of these horrible people for our march to Dupont Circle. So what's the right wing's excuse for 250,000? What is it, exactly, that is sweeping their ranks?