In New York, you find freedom in your face

1 September 2004

NEW YORK - Boston's motto for managing its convention was "work around it." New York just seems to be working through it. Once again - and I grit my teeth as I write this - when it comes to the New York-Boston rivalry, New York is the winner.

In the weeks following the Democratic National Convention, New Yorkers had been bragging they would, as The New York Times said, "make Boston play second fiddle." Kevin Sheekey, head of the host committee, scored Boston for turning itself into a near ghost town for the week. "Our plan is to keep New York City open," he told reporters.

You wait, I thought. You'll learn, as we did, that things are different. Conventions were once fun and festive, but now the dread of terrorism and the demands of security trump everything. Commerce comes to a halt, residents' lives are interrupted and even free speech takes a back seat to our fears. Protesters are something to be caged; every traveler on the streets a potential madman. Indeed, I wondered, how could you not know this? New York, after all, was the site of the worst-ever terrorist attack on American soil, the reverberations of which dominate this year's election. Were youse guys being delusional, ignoring the ugly realities of this grim new world?

Or, perhaps I think as I wander around the city, they're just not panicking.

I arrive Monday by train. During its convention, Boston shut down North Station. But we pull directly into Pennsylvania Station, with Madison Square Garden - the convention site - overhead. Uniformed cops are posted throughout and the number of exits is limited, but otherwise everything is as usual. Trains are running on time (although some New Jersey trains were detoured, no one has been left stranded outside the city), shops are open and commuters are hurrying to their destinations.

I board a subway. My luggage is vastly larger than the "loaf of bread" size the skittish MBTA banned in Boston, but here in New York that seems to be no problem. No one tries to search me. Outside, life proceeds apace. Major thoroughfares have one lane blocked off, reserving it for emergency vehicles and the inevitable motorcades that carry Republican bigwigs to and fro. Otherwise, traffic flows smoothly. Times Square is just as bright, noisy and frenetic as ever. And late at night, after the day's events have ended, it is readily possible to go out and get a meal. Unlike Boston, where Chinatown is close to the only source for a post-midnight repast, restaurants here are open. The prices seem high, but at least when one orders a beer it doesn't arrive in a crockery mug euphemistically termed "cold tea."

The most striking and disturbing dissimilarity, however, is how New York handles democracy - and by democracy, I don't mean the safe ritual of standing in line to cast a vote. I mean the hurly-burly of dissent, the clash of protest and the passions of conflicting principles.

In Boston, the symbol of democracy was the cage. Guantanamo North, some called it - a razor-wire and steel pen into which were thrown those who dared to disagree. New York's symbol of democracy, meanwhile, was Sunday's march of as many as 500,000 in front of Madison Square Garden.

Unlike the ugly barricades that kept the FleetCenter a virtual island, it is still easy to approach Madison Square Garden. It sits in the middle of the city, accessible from all sides. There was a sense of gloom about the Boston convention (abetted, admittedly, by the elevated subway lines that shut out daylight). Here everything is open, bright and almost cheery. If you want to protest, hand out leaflets or carry a sign, you can do it pretty much from any corner.

Underscoring that difference is the fact that Boston officials knew that protest at the Democratic convention would be relatively trivial. Whatever one's problems with the last four years, after all, John Kerry was hardly to blame. Here, however, protest has been and will continue to be massive, zealous and angry. Anarchists and radicals have vowed to shut down the convention; they have targeted hotels and restaurants, harassing and intimidating delegates.

New York clearly has vastly more to worry about than did Boston. It's almost embarrassing. Boston and the Democratic Party colluded to shutter the mouths of those who might protest. Meanwhile, New York and the GOP - derided as the anti-civil liberties party of John Ashcroft - have, if not welcomed dissent, at least accommodated it.

We in Boston like to boast that we are the cradle of liberty, but at the Democratic convention those words, much bandied about, were mocked by the repression outside. Meanwhile New York, where liberty three years ago met its mightiest test, seems better to understand what freedom really means.