One to One-ion

Declaration of Potential Biases: I am not associated with Extinction Revolution, however I did participate in certain events during the second day protests to get an idea of who they were.

It was numbing and slumgullion morning at the parliament gardens on the 26th May '23. Members of the Extinction Revolution had come together in an extreme version of urban camping.

Exchanging the comforts of backyards for the exhibitionism of sleeping rough in the city.

I had heard that these inhabitants were no more than yuppies, I marked to test this theory by writing in huge print on my garm “Yuppies are an invasive species”.

I had come to the sinister acceptance that these unspoken (by myself) to peoples were gonna turn hostile when I desecrated the seriousness of their shamanism.

No doubt furious and dickish that I dared defile their vengeful nature gods, or were they kami?

I didn’t know, just that their worshippers would be a horde of pissed off humans who would most likely let me know one way or the other. No doubt the slight hangover was in no way helping my outlook on this. And I was ready for great conflict.

It was the second day of their three day occupation when I spotted their illicit encampment, indeed they seemed to hope more supporters would join the occupancy, ‘We are calling out to all rebels and allies to join us tonight for the final night of occupation - this is a numbers game - there is strength in numbers - join us!’ - Extinction Rebellion Victoria Facebook page (day three of occupation).

A prime plan to adapt this plain and simple park of parliament into some tented Constantinople, that could oppose en masse arrest. Tents in parliament gardens were prohibited after all, perhaps they violated building codes.

Irrespective, this seeming occupation had not considered the effective strategy of conscription as was clear by their low numbers that quasi-crowded in the park for the day, perhaps a little over 20 people there.

It seemed strange to initiate contact with this tibe of protestors, I could see them salivating in my synapses, savagely sharpening their sentences and accusations, ready to let loose violence if I was ‘against them’. Then again, maybe I would be somewhat safe in this tribe, just pestered, but in this political climate, I didn’t trust ‘em.

Would they notice an outsider in their midst? Perhaps barbecue me alive, Afterall I was organic.

I sat by a bench observing them before a protestor started striding towards me.

Was this it? Had this inglorious and largely unknown columnist career of mine come to an end?

“Have I seen you from somewhere?”

The jig was up it seemed.

“No man” I replied.

“Captain Kirk! Yeah, like from that show”.

“Thunderbirds?”

“Yeah!”

It seemed my garrison cap was what siphoned the protestor’s attention.

Soon we found ourselves in conversation, I asked him about turning this place into some sort of Constantinople, he looked back and simply said:

“Yeah, but it’s about love”.

His words put me at ease, he took his leave saying, “I love ya man” and kissing my hand as he went. No doubt he’d been more charming than most dates I had been on. It seemed simple communication would be on the table for this assignment.

These protestors had gathered with no precise project to pester in this place and period, but indeed to push further awareness of their proclamations.

It was a simple one, the collapse of civilised society was neigh.

But for many people it was just another weekday, precisely, what the protest aimed to put an end too. “…Occupy for Climate launches…disruptive action in central Melbourne raising the alarm about the risk of societal collapse.” The protests had three demands:

“1. Government must tell the truth by declaring a climate and ecological emergency, working with other institutions to communicate the urgency for change.

2. Government must act now to halt biodiversity loss and reduce greenhouse gas emissions to net zero.

3. Government must create and be led by the decisions of a Citizens’ Assembly on climate and ecological justice.” – Extinction Rebellion Australia, Website: https://ausrebellion.earth/what-is-xr

I commenced my contact with brisk pace and discovered they were hosting a course on

‘non-violent direct action’. it started off simply enough by an acknowledgement of land and apologies to the Indigenous community of Australia.

It was around the time the presenter said something to the effect ‘this next exercise may result in police interventions… and arrests’ that I started to suspect things were getting serious. There were far more police flocking about the gardens than there were protestors, it only seemed a matter of time before the florescent wall started to close in.

The protestors set about the illicit act of erecting a tent, not just any tent though, a behemoth fourteen-person tent, in parliament garden, all without taking said tent out on a date first, on some grand orgy of civil disobedience.

This was a simple training exercise, participants were made to feel at ease about not being arrested, but not in some sense it was civic duty to avoid trouble with governmental gimps, well known sadists that got their kicks outta obscene paperwork, but rather because nerves may get in their way too much, but no mistake was to be made, civil disobedience was the order of the day. “We have a duty to disobey the system… some of us will undertake open… actions that risk arrest and charge” – Extinction Revolution, website, our values, 4, expanded.

The protestors split up into groups of three, one to set up the tent, another to think of effective blocking strategies to protect the tent if police tried to take it down the tent and a group to liaise with police, who would also for the purpose of this training exercise play police officers for the purpose of simulating what rigours may be faced by protestors. With absolutely no experience in law enforcement, but some close shaves, I was perfect for this role.

The two groups had the tent set up and were forming living, breathing partition around it and had started chanting things like: “We are democracy”. We started towards a section of protestors and began the simulation.

“This is my partner” the obvious non-cop said gesturing to me (the other obvious Kmart brand police officer) “what’s going on here?”

“We have set up a tent.”

“How long will it stand?”

“We are not sure at this point”

The police liaisons had placed pivotal importance on not bullshitting police, they were after all the reputable face of the movement to the police, if they could not be trusted by authorities no dialogue could be had.

“That’s uncool beans amigo, it needs to come down, violates building regulations” I said.

I broke off when I noticed pair of more accredited officers with a council official talking to the police liaison.

They tried to remain diplomatic siting their good relationship, however the council representative stated plainly that after yesterday’s demonstrations patience was running thin.

The tent was soon disbanded, but the future presentations were just beginning.

A march was planned down from parliament. I had partook in talks with a protestor on the most productive way to present ourselves.

“We have capsicums” they said serving themselves some food from the communal store, “Now it’s a good protest”.

“We should Eat capsicums in front of police to freak them out.

Yes, psychological warfare they used that in WW2, real non-Geneva convention”

We both agreed capsicum spray was crap for comestibles, unlike its namesake, this spice was callous in it’s decimation of succulent cooking, plain capsicums however, unlike the fiendish capsicum spray, would be a scrumptious alternate recipe for use in psychology warfare. However, it was settled that raw onions would be most effective for this.

“Not many people liked Tony Abbott, but when he munched on raw onions, we saw him as a monster, no doubt we must implement this.” I said.

I had convinced one person to take a bite outta an onion, but it seemed there was a frightening lack of eager protestors willing to have the onion Kool-Aid while on the upcoming march, I would have to be the lead for the psychological warfare department.

The march was slow, police stopping every so often and encouraging them onwards, a few words were exchanged with workman on a site and chants shouted throughout the street. Before coming to a halt next to the Melbourne town hall. Opening lines for the public to walk past and handing out seeds and rosemary sprigs. All the while chanting ‘power to the people’ and playing crude recycled instruments.

I had started eating onions at passers-by when protestors tried to hand them a flyer, or further trying to give them an onion, to satiate their invisible hunger for them. Of course, this put the fear of God in some of them, I remember a police officer turning to face me:

“Are you eating that raw?”

“Yeah, do you want one?”

“Jesus”

I was jangling the fuckers, shaking them to their spleens, this was the many layers of protest incarnate. And it was an onion.

It was about this time I started to suspect the statues were moving I appreciated the very real concept of ODing on onions and retreated to safety and refuge, far from the protests to sleep off the haze.

The protests that day, although disruptive, were peaceful, when confronted with reasonable requests in regard to public safety they adhered. When insulted, they simply broke off contact. Although scorned for the disorder caused, they did it with a smile on their face and no intent for aggression. Indeed, with their peaceable demeanour, they lived up to the idea they presented of being democracy, people coming together under a common plight or goal and protesting/petitioning for their side of the issue.