Perhaps the climate movement places too much emphasis on the importance of getting arrested. It’s certainly a pretty inaccessible thing for large numbers of people - and something others wouldn’t dream of. But I’m a white male activist in a (supposedly) democratic country. What’s the worst that could happen?
In the run-up to my arrest, I went to weekly talks from Just Stop Oil (JSO) on climate science, the importance of non-violent civil disobedience, and how to protest safely. I had legal training, NVDA (non-violent direct action) training and made some close friendships with people I’d soon be travelling to get arrested alongside.
The journey to a “safe house” - and subsequent stay at the safe house - is filled with conversations about climate catastrophe, swapping of song recommendations and discussion of shared fears and hopes about the action ahead. It’s an intensely rapid bonding experience (akin to the quick-bonding of the superglue we were set to use in the coming days).
An action itself can take many forms depending on what role you’ve taken on - some sat in front of oil tankers, others spoke to their drivers, while others still climbed up to sit on the top. One needs to be prepared for: A) a fully-prepared police force anticipating the action and arriving immediately to make arrests (in which case, that superglue comes in handy pretty quickly!), B) an overburdened police force, run down by all the other activists across the country doing the same thing as oneself, and as such completely incapable and completely reluctant to make any arrests (in which case, a sleeping bag and plenty of snacks will prove resources enough to play the long game), or C) something completely unpredictable (our group was caught one night by a police helicopter while we hid in a McDonald’s at 3AM, for example) - in the latter case, follow what you’ve been taught already.
On my first action, I sat and talked to a 72 year-old woman who’d been arrested many times recently with Insulate Britain and Extinction Rebellion. She told me about her love of Cuba and her desire to return there soon. I recorded videos of adult activists who cried about their children’s future in a polluted world. I received death threats, beautiful gestures of solidarity, and an opened projectile bottle of urine from the workers I disrupted. I ran from police helicopters in the dark and hid in bushes from patrol vans; I went defiantly ragdoll when being arrested, forcing six officers to lift me to the van while a Sky News cameraman chased after us. I laughed, cried and prayed to God I’d be in a cell before the Imodium wore off. And then I did the whole thing again. And again.
I won’t tell you the whole experience is thrilling. Police will be bullying and manipulative, tankers will be scary and cold to sit on, police cells are uncomfortable and unjust and the general public can be… less than sympathetic. It’s late nights and early mornings. It’s worried parents and abusive media reports. It’s a lot of people, even close friends, saying “I agree with the message, but why do you have to disrupt people’s lives?”
But it’s one of the most meaningful things you can do with your life right now.
The latest IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) reports forecast a bleak and unjust future for the human species - and almost all other species - a future of death and destruction on a scale so vast it’ll be detectable in the geological record for thousands of years. It’s driven the International Energy Agency to say that, “If governments are serious about the climate crisis, there can be no new investments in oil, gas and coal, from now” - “now” being a year ago. The UN Secretary-General has said “the truly dangerous radicals are the countries that are increasing the production of fossil fuels” - not those of us sat on their oil tankers.
The world cannot handle more fossil fuel production. The UK government knows this - we hosted COP26 this year and have already pledged to keep the world below 1.5 degrees of heating. And yet, there it goes, commissioning forty new oil and gas licences in its own backyard.
They’re not going to stop oil.
Oil companies aren’t going to stop oil.
We are the only ones who can stop oil.
If that means getting arrested (which we are doing in such numbers that the police stations, overwhelmed by environmental activists, are running out of vegetarian meals), if it means giving up our time, if it means disappointing our parents or our module leaders for us to be climate leaders, so be it. A degree is a small sacrifice compared with a livable future. A night in a cell is a small price to pay to stop oil.
I hope to see you at the next phase of our campaign. To quote the often-used patronising phrase usually directed at activists like myself: "well, it's your future..."
It is indeed.
