Anti-Forum activists march and 'twinkle' to little effect

Leaders of the many dissident groups that converged on New York to protest against the World Economic Forum will leave town tonight pondering their successes and failures: the violence that the city feared has mostly not broken out but the united voice of protest they sought may not have been loud enough for anyone to hear.

Achieving some kind of coherent strategy has been the goal of nightly so-called "spokes councils" at a church behind the Lincoln Centre on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Attended by the leaders of dozens of groups committed to curbing capitalism, they have offered a glimpse into the workings of a movement that must struggle with a hugely diverse range of interests, ranging from lefty to loony.

On Saturday night, speakers at the council tried first to gauge the impact of a march with 7,000 taking part that had started at noon at Central Park and taken a circuitous route to the Waldorf Hotel, where the forum started its work on Thursday last week. Under the eyes of thousands of police, it had been colourful, with giant puppets and a samba band, and mostly peaceful. Only about 40 arrests had been made.

There is more organisation and more order behind the anti-globalisation movement (notwithstanding the street violence at summits in Seattle and Genoa) than is evident on the surface. The holding of the "spokes councils" is only one example.

The thousands of protesters – mostly young, white and of student age – who poured into the city from across the country found a network of support waiting for them. A welcome centre is open 24 hours a day in another church in the East Village of Manhattan, offering help to find accommodation and to navigate all the counter-WEF events. These included legal workshops on getting help in case of arrest and medical workshops to prepare marchers for possible violence. There are also some late-night parties.

Inside the "spokes councils" themselves, from which the media is banned, discipline is the rule. At Saturday's meeting, infiltrated by this reporter, the couple of hundred anarchists and activists crammed into the church were forbidden from clapping whenever they wanted to show their approval, to avoid wasting time. Instead, they would 'twinkle", by raising their hands and wiggling their fingers. But everyone gets a chance to speak up.

The so-called "actions" that are planned each night are colour-coded. Green actions, which included Saturday's march, are those with police permits and implying no criminal activity. A "yellow" action could include an element of civil disobedience, such as blocking traffic. A "red" action, by contrast, might extend to causing property damage and risking almost certain arrest.

One young man, perhaps frustrated that the protests had not made sufficient impact on the WEF, suggested something that seemed yellow in hue: forming a human chain around one of the city's fancy hotels to stop delegates getting to their meetings.

As he spoke, a woolly collection hat was passed around for donations to help to pay for the bail of those whisked away by the police.

Taking on the police in New York has barely been an option. "There is an occupying army here," complained Heather, a veteran anti-globalisation activist and Spanish teacher from Baltimore, who chose to withhold her last name. A friend had been arrested during Saturday's march and she couldn't find him. "Just look at the police, with the hatred in their eyes. They wouldn't hesitate just to beat us."

But just being here is enough for some. Pat Dolan, a veteran anti-capitalist activist from Oakland, California, ended his day at a party organised for marchers aboard the Frying Pan, an antique coastguard lightship berthed at the Chelsea Piers on the Hudson river. "It's been a great day," he insisted, the loud music of an alternative heavy rock band filling the air. "We have been able to shine the light of public scrutiny on the WEF and what it is doing."

One problem the movement faces is the diversity of its followers' interests. Among a few stalls set up below decks on the Frying Pan was one promoting a boycott of a gherkin-growing company in South Carolina. At the "spokes council", a man with cloth wings attached to his arms asked marchers to spend Sunday cleaning community gardens in the Bronx. Even he got a ripple of twinkling.