Enemies Of Trade.

• Author: McElravy, Evan

The FTAA protesters in Quebec were misguided.

So was the police-state response to them.

At one end of the park, the crowd let out a loud huzzah at the urging of a passionate speaker, then streamed out of the park and into the downtown streets. "FTAA: Fuck You, Go Away!" A motorcycle cop roared by at top speed.

I cringed, wondering again just what I was doing at Ground Zero of the world anti-globalization movement, feeling distinctly like a pilgrim in an unholy land. Blocks away, 34 heads of state-along with their families, their factotums, their foreign ministers, and several thousand journalists--representing every nation in the Americas save Cuba were gathered in the historic heart of Quebec City for the third Summit of the Americas. The stated goal of the April meeting was to create a Free Trade Area of the Americas, better known simply as the FTAA. In the streets surrounding the historic district were some 30,000 protesters from Canada, the United States, and even further away, expressing their collective indignation at the prospect of a hemispheric trading bloc. And between those two groups was what has become the symbol of the weekend, a 2.3-mile concrete and hain-link security perimeter, inside which only the neighborhood's residents and orkers, summit attendees, and registered journalists were permitted to pass.

I had come to town on a chartered school bus, in the company of some leftist friends (members of a group called the International Socialists) who've learned to ignore my libertarian affection for unplanned, unpredictable trade across national borders. As we crossed the St. Lawrence River into the suburb of Sainte-Foy, the bridge had been lined with police cars about every 100 feet. Our affinity group leader admonished us to write the number for the countersummit's free legal aid association on our arms in permanent marker.

The nerve center for the protests was Laval University, located about two miles west of the city center. (The university had opened its buildings to the protesters, ransforming its lecture halls and gymnasium into tightly packed barracks.) I met up with a large group marching from Laval to downtown, an eclectic assortment of new arrivals, jubilant and expectant, whooping, clapping, beating drums, and chanting "The people united will never be defeated!" in three languages. The air smelled strongly of marijuana-a scent vastly preferable to that of the tear gas that would permeate the rest of the day. The...