On Security, Politics and Throat Lozenges

I am, I have discovered, a very cheap vote. A handful of throat lozenges will do it. Throw in some vitamin C and you are basically guaranteed my loyalty for life.

I discovered this yesterday, in the third to last day of negotiations. The situation has become increasingly intense as negotiations keep breaking down and as the heads of state start arriving. Over 100 heads of state are set to participate in this global conference, the largest number ever experienced in climate negotiations. The Danish security forces are becoming uneasy. Now they have to deal not only with over 20 000 NGO participants who massively outnumber the 8 000 government delegates, but also are preparing to have the likes of Ahmadinejad, Omaba and yes, even Stephen Harper underfoot.

Of course, from a security perspective it is not only the NGO participants inside the Bella Centre who are of concern. On both Saturday and Sunday large protests, one resulting in almost 1 000 arrests, were staged in the city and word has it that another is planned for this afternoon right outside the Bella Centre.

The morning is still dark when I and the train-full of other people heading to the centre are informed that the Bella Centre metro station has been closed for crowd control. We all get off at the stop before and start walking. Unwittingly we become our own protest march. We march purposefully and orderly, no banners or drums accompany us, no slogans announce our presence, no cars are asked to honk. Instead, wrapped in dark business jackets and leather gloves, lap top bags slung over hunched shoulders we stride through the sleet in silence. If Bay Street protested this is what it would look like.

Our march ends abruptly when we run into a police cordon. They look at our business attire and let us pass one by one through the gap between two police vans. Today they are wearing their characteristic yellow reflective vests on top of camouflage fatigues. The combination does nothing to enhance their ability to blend in with anything. With just the yellow they might have been able to pass as the yellow robed metro personnel. With just the camouflage they might have, if they really needed to and didn't mind getting excessively muddy, been able to slide through the marsh. I smile as I smoothly enter with the Bay Street crowd; my camouflage is far more effective than theirs although, to be fair,I assume that camouflage was not exactly their goal.

Where there is usually one gate into Bella Centre there are now 3 rows of fences and some protestors, ones who are protesting on purpose, are already set up. For some unfathomable reason the vegetarians have been the most steadfast and easily recognizable group here. Each day I am accosted by earnest women urging me to eat plants to save the planet. Today is no exception and I am offered a cloth bag with their slogan and some carrots printed on its side. I turn down the bag as the last thing I need is more stuff and add my mass to the long line of people waiting to get in.

In addition to the fences specially erected for the protest, a secondary badge system has also been set in place to regulate access of NGO observers. Each organization has been given a set number of secondary badges and only those representatives with both their UNFCCC badge and a secondary badge can enter. I have one just for today. This is my last chance to get in.

I spend much more time than usual waiting in the sleet because more of us have arrived early. In addition to the secondary badges a total cap on the number of NGO representatives has been implemented. Today only 7000 will be let in. Tomorrow this will be reduced to 1 000, and according to the rumours among the NGO community, only 90 NGO representatives (of the over 20 000 registered) are expected to be let in on the last day of negotiation. Between the cap and the expected protest this afternoon we are all aware that if we do not get in first thing today, we are unlikely to make it in at all.

They check both of our badges one by one and let us pass to security. Once through security they make us all line up to have our badges checked again. Along with our UNFCCC badges we have all been given a barcode. We are scanned into the system twice a day – once when we enter and again when we leave. Today when they scan me in they carefully compare me with the picture that emerges on the screen, “yes, it is you” the woman says and I, wet, cold and sick finally gain admittance.

I skip the coat check because I am so late and practically run to the Canadian briefing. I miss all of the official briefing and hear only the questions. Today the room is almost devoid of youth and is fuller of somber suits than usual. There are three crucial exceptions to this.

The first is a young man from the University of Victoria who has carried a globe covered in over 1000 signatures from fellow students to the event. He presents it to Canada's head delegate who assures him that this means a great deal to him as University of Victoria alumnus.

The second is a young woman from a First Nation in the western arctic. She does not have a question but tells him that although her nation spent thousands of dollars to bring both elders and youth to the conference security has not let them in. She also points out that Canada does not have a single person in its delegation from the Western arctic.

The usual time for the briefing is up but a woman with a racking cough stomps in late and marches to the microphone. The delegate looks at her and lets her talk. She first comments on the security situation which resulted in her standing outside for half an hour even though she has bronchitis. She then lambasts him for Canada's role in the negotiations and requests that he talk to Minister Prentice and Stephen Harper so they “stop looking like idiots in the face of the world.” Finally she presents him with an 8 inch stack of letters written by Canadians tied with a glossy green satin ribbon. Mission accomplished she then turns to leave the microphone. Expressionless the he almost lets her leave and then stops her, suggesting that she may want to introduce herself for anyone who does not know who she is. She is, of course, Elizabeth May, the leader of the Canadian Green Party.

And this is where throat lozenges start to come back into the story. Several hours later the final plenary begins. Security has been tightened even further and a third badge system has been added. Large constituency groups of NGOs and country delegations have been given limited numbers of tertiary badges for admittance to the plenary but many of those with both secondary and tertiary badges have been denied access (negotiations are halted at one point because the head of the Brazilian delegation cannot get in) . Instead, flat screen television sets have set up in the hallways and we crowd around them to watch webcasts of the meetings.

As we watch, standing there in the hallway, someone hears my cough and kindly offers me a chair in the front. I gratefully sit down only to realize that my neighbour is also coughing – my neighbour is Elizabeth May.

All of the sudden our attention, and that of all the media personnel idly standing around, is diverted by a First Nations man chanting and drumming. He is at the head of a large group of people surrounded by a bristling force field of microphones and TV cameras. They come closer. At first we cannot hear what they are saying but then it becomes clear, “Join the People's Assembly, Climate Justice Now!”. Soon we are in the midst of the protest and I look over, there is Elizabeth May, bronchitis and all, hoarsely shouting along with them, “climate justice now! Climate justice now!”.

The protesters walk on – I know from NGO press releases that they are headed out to join the protestors on the outside. An academic from Berlin asks me if I know what is going on. I tell her and she shrugs, “well”, she says, pointing to the plenary room insulated from us all with thick white curtains and two walls, “its not going to do any good because they are all in there”.

I sit back down and our little huddle continues to watch the plenary. We are a motley crew – two South African delegates, an Ethiopian delegate, two women from an Indian NGO, Elizabeth May and I with several dozen others standing behind us. I eventually had to go but as I said good bye she asked if I was taking anything for my cough. I admitted I was not and she immediately rummaged around in her extremely voluminous bag. She emerged with a handfull of throat lozenges and a packet of vitamin C and gave me strict instructions to use it all.

And with that, she may have made me a green party member for life. I can't see any of our other leaders rummaging around and giving strangers throat lozenges. If his climate policy is anything to go on Stephen Harper would probably tell me that he understood my situation but that it really was a joint responsibility and until we were all collectively and cooperatively engaged, and had negotiated a collaborative framework it just wouldn't be appropriate for him to help me. That is, of course, if I was able to get through security in order to ask him at all. I am fairly confident that I would have the support of AOSIS, the G77 and China if I firmly told him to keep his collaboration, I just want throat lozenges!