Protests against a regal presidency have been notably peaceful

Hindustan Times

10 hours ago

AT MIDDAY, BY the time the 'No Kings' march in Chicago was due to start, so many people were squashed into Daley Plaza, in the city's downtown, that it caused a sort of gridlock, with protesters unable to march in any direction. There were a few stirring speeches—for those close enough to hear, anyway—but mostly people milled around enjoying the show. Some came in fancy dress: furries; Mexican wrestlers; clowns and two men dressed as cardboard tanks. Some carried megaphones. The communists, with hammer and sickle flags, were well prepared; the families with small children on cargo-bicycles less so. What united them all was disdain for Donald Trump.
The protests, under the banner 'No Kings', were America's largest in years. There were as many as 2,000 separate events planned, in all the biggest cities and in hundreds of smaller ones. Thousands turned out even in Republican-voting places like Provo, Utah; or Boise, Idaho. Overall attendance was probably in the millions, yet there was little disorder and relatively few arrests.
Meanwhile in Washington, Mr Trump celebrated his 79th birthday by watching a military parade he ordered up—the first in the capital in more than three decades—which culminated in a day of festivities marking the army's 250th birthday. Mr Trump had expressed his desire for a big martial parade during his first term but was dissuaded by advisers who noted that such rituals were a staple of countries like Russia or North Korea. Here as in many other areas, Mr Trump proved determined to throw off constraints during his second term. The president beamed as more than 6,000 soldiers joined a parade down Constitution Avenue, dressed in kit from across the country's history, culminating with a progression of aircraft and tanks that ground up Washington's streets along the way.
Attendees wore MAGA gear and in many ways the mood was similar to a Trump rally, with vendors selling anything from DOGE hats to shirts commemorating the 'big beautiful military parade'. (One young attendee had a shirt that declared: 'I'm here for the tanks.') Many in the crowd didn't understand the fuss. 'I wish it was not the birthday of President Trump,' said Keith Lay, a retired businessman from Tennessee. But he traveled to the capital, he said, to honour the military and his late son, who took his own life after serving two tours of duty in Afghanistan: 'It's for our troops, doggone it.'
Protesters gathered in front of the White House a few blocks away, and a few others appeared elsewhere. Perla Celnicker, a teacher and Mexican immigrant, said she came to protest for the first time on account of Mr Trump's deportation campaign. But seeking to avoid an inflammatory confrontation in Washington, the great majority of anti-Trump protesters assembled elsewhere.
The size of the crowds suggested a summer of sustained anti-Trump protests may lie ahead. The initial lack of violence is a relief. For days beforehand, following protests in Los Angeles that turned violent, Republicans had warned of mass disorder. In Florida one sheriff warned protesters: 'We will kill you, graveyard dead.' Democratic leaders worried that scenes of violence might provoke Mr Trump to send the national guard into more big cities. In New York, NYPD officers donned riot helmets and batons along Fifth Avenue. Yet when it came to it, almost all were orderly. The one exception was in Los Angeles, where police clearing streets ahead of an 8pm downtown curfew once again deployed tear-gas on a small group of protesters who had remained after most went home.
At the end of the march in Chicago, the local police handed out bottles of water. In New York as of 6pm, the police reported making no arrests at all. A crowd in which middle-aged and upper-middle class protesters were well represented was also notably well behaved. At one point some in New York broke into a word-perfect rendition of 'Do You Hear The People Sing' from the French revolution musical 'Les Misérables'. They did not build any barricades themselves. For some the whole thing was rather nostalgic. 'You walk in a crowd like this [and there is a] feeling of love that comes over you for your country and your fellow man,' said Jayne Goldstein, at the march in Manhattan, closing her eyes and smiling. Her first protest was against the Vietnam war.
The peacefulness of the demonstrations contrasted with the violence inflicted by one man in Minnesota. Two state politicians, both Democrats, were shot, with their spouses, in the small hours of June 14th by a man who came to their door dressed as a police officer. One of his victims, Melissa Hortman, the speaker of the state House of Representatives until January, was killed; so was her husband. Senator John Hoffman and his wife underwent surgery in hospital.
It was an 'act of targeted political violence,' said Tim Walz, the state's Democratic governor, at a press conference. The alleged gunman, named as Vance Boelter, a 57-year-old private-security operator, is still on the loose. He is a graduate of a Pentecostal bible college associated with Christian nationalism, and he had in his car a list of nearly 70 different targets, including other Democratic politicians and anti-abortion activists, according to the police. He also had copies of flyers for Minneapolis's No Kings protests.
In the aftermath, Mr Walz urged protesters in the twin cities of Minneapolis and St Paul not to demonstrate, lest they be targeted too. Thousands turned out anyway, and paid homage to their murdered representative. For all of the fear about mobs, it was a reminder that throughout America's history, many of the worst acts of violence have been committed by lone individuals.
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