There was a time when I joined protests almost as recreation, looking for any opportunity to march. The chance to walk down the middle of major city routes, blocking traffic, having the police reluctantly guard us as we chanted together in unison for a common cause, feeling the power of numbers behind us. There are always a few bad eggs. Like at the peace march in Winnipeg where a group of Sikhs burned and violently beat an effigy of Indira Ghandi. But even though it was contrary to the message of peace, I rather enjoyed the irony of that spectacle.
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