Gonçalves How Does Change Happen?

Scenes from the Frontlines of Activism
1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-1-916637-13-9
Verlag: 404 Ink
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, Band 29, 112 Seiten

Reihe: Inklings

Mass protests and direct action have been familiar tactics against the many crises of the 21st century. Though methods vary, there's a collective longing for meaningful and transformative action. Some are deemed too weak, others too disruptive: from Instagram tiles to cans of soup thrown on famous paintings. Through conversations with activists and organisers, Sam Gonçalves recounts stories of protest and the fight for change, from a community of landless workers in Southern Brazil, to chefs unionising their workplace in Glasgow, Scotland. These narratives reveal the opportunities and challenges that are part of the difficult work of creating change, a wrestling with the question: how does change happen? Having a 'positive impact' in the world is often relegated to the 'personal', an individual endeavour. Gonçalves investigates that assumption and explores ways communities have resisted collectively, and fought against the individualising forces surrounding them.

Sam Gonçalves is a Brazilian writer and documentary filmmaker, based in Glasgow. His work has appeared in The National, Counterpoint, and The Skinny and he publishes bi-monthly interviews on Everything Mixtape.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Gonçalves, Sam

Leseproben

Chapter 2: Agitate

In 2021, Tim Hewes woke up with one thing in mind: he was going to sew his own lips shut. The now-75-year-old priest had been planning this action for six months. There is a lot to consider when self-mutilating. Early on, Tim realised it would be difficult for viewers to see the thin, medical-standard suture material commonly used for stitches on camera, so instead he planned to thread the needle between his lips with thicker, waxed upholstery. A large folder carried all the necessary implements:
scissors, in case of an emergency, and a mirror so he could see what he was doing to himself. He regularly takes aspirin but stopped a few days before the event so the bleeding wouldn’t get out of control. He planned to stand outside the News Corp offices, which house the staff of The Times and The Sun among others, then perform the bloody scene as a symbol of the media’s silence over the climate crisis.

Previously, he had been involved with Extinction Rebellion, Insulate Britain, Just Stop Oil and Christian Climate Action (CCA), a group of Christians engaging in non-violent direct action ‘in the face of imminent and catastrophic anthropogenic climate breakdown’1 which Tim has worked with the most. Even then, he told me that when he suggested the possibility of this action, the group was ‘pretty horrified’, but most of them came around slowly and eventually a few of them came along to help him.

The first time we spoke was on a video call.2 The camera was pointing up, leaving part of his face off frame. Tim was previously a dentist for twenty-seven years and during that time he became an ordained Anglican priest, then worked in a non-paid capacity for twelve years. He has since retired from active ministry but is often still involved in church activities. After retirement he started participating in civil disobedience to draw attention to the climate crisis. He told me the act of self-mutilation was his most radical action to date.

This goal has never been more important. Since the Paris Agreement’s target of keeping warming well below 2°C and pursue efforts to limit it at 1.5°C,3 2024 has been found to be the warmest year on record.4 The UK Government’s climate policy, which the CCA attempts to influence, is likely consistent with a 3°C increase in temperature.5 I hoped that our conversation would shed some light on the strategy behind his activities and whether they can really shift the global picture. Do they have a genuine impact or do they just put people off?

One of his early actions happened when he joined a friend from the CCA at a hearing at the City of London Magistrates Court. He went as an advisor to Ben Buse, who had been charged with breaking Section 14 of the Public Order Act during an Extinction Rebellion protest in 2020. Once there, both men took out the glue they had secretly stashed (Tim’s was in his shoe), glued themselves in place, and began live streaming. There was a rush from security to stop them. ‘They’re gluing themselves!’ they shouted, but it all happened too fast. Tim’s hand was affixed to the railings of the visitors’ gallery while Ben stuck his hand to the wall.

Once they were attached, there was an annoyed awk-
wardness from the staff.

‘Okay. Can you just turn it off, please?’ They tried to ascertain what was happening and asked the protesters if they could remove themselves.

‘No,’ Tim said defiantly.

Ben began his prepared statement. ‘Why are you prosecuting the protestors as the world is dying?’

A special de-bonding team that acts on occasions such as these across London had to be summoned. Once they arrived, the process of applying solvent to remove Tim’s hand from the railings began. By the time they were finished and moved on to Ben, he lifted his hand and told the officers he only used a Pritt Stick. Both men were charged with contempt of court and sentenced to two weeks in prison.

On the call, Tim and I both laughed at the Pritt reveal, but the action seemed to hold an important place for him. It was emboldening to face these kinds of situations head-on. ‘We shouldn’t be afraid to do things that are gonna finish up with us in prison.’ Early on, he considered that his position in the clergy might conflict with his new found pursuit. He went as far as suggesting he might need to hand back his ‘permission to officiate’ to his Bishop, who responded with an encouraging ‘You keep it!’

Months later, Tim’s hands shook in anticipation as the needle came close to his face. He wondered if he would be able to do it at all. But the moment his lower lip was pierced, he clicked into professional mode. It was like being in the clinic again. As a retired dentist, he had a clear picture of how the sewing would happen.

‘I put the needle in one side.’ He mimed a poke in the inner corner of his lower lip. ‘Pull it out from underneath, put it in the top.’ Once a thread was through both lips, he tied them together. They were regular stitches, the kind he felt confident doing for years. A repetitive process. In, out, in, out, cut, tie. Over and over again. ‘But the waxed upholstery was quite thick so it was difficult to get it through the hole,’ he laughed.

When it was all done, a striking image was left. In photographs from the day, Tim’s lips look tightly sewn with marks of dried blood on them. He wore his dog collar and sewed patches on his shirt. One of which read ‘MURDOCH DID THIS. MUTED CLIMATE SCIENCE’ aimed at Rupert Murdoch’s lack of climate crisis coverage across his media empire.6

He stood in the small pedestrian square between the News Building and the Shard. If you have ever been there, you know the area feels corporately desolate, like a privately owned concrete and glass villa with the echoing sound of cars and buses. People walking in and out were shocked as they caught sight of Tim. Some shouted ‘wanker’ when they passed the priest.

After a couple of hours, Tim cut off the threads, pulled them through and said, ‘I’m done.’

They Call Me A Communist

These types of interventions have not, for the most part, been discussed favourably in opinion columns and news panels. Protesters in Britain have been enshrined as national characters through the early- to mid-2020s, and often derided in the media.

The UK Government has responded to the peaceful protests with increasingly draconian legislation, such as the Public Order Bill which extends the definition of serious disruption, makes its associated fines limitless, and increases law enforcement stop and search powers.7

On the one hand, these protest tactics have attracted groups of supporters across the country and, on the other, widespread criticism in the news. Very few active supporters of the cause have been above the age of 65.8

For Tim, the strategy behind non-violent direct action is to push politicians into action. ‘That’s what we were hoping to do with Insulate Britain and Just Stop Oil, to actually force the hand of the Government and companies to change their policy.’ Ending new oil and gas licensing, and transitioning towards renewable energy in a fair and inclusive way, are among the policies advocated by Christian Climate Action.9 He takes inspiration from historical groups who took similar routes like ‘the Freedom Riders in the States and so on’.

One of the many lessons learned from historical examples of civil disobedience is that attention is the most valuable resource. In a piece by Social Change Lab,10 Just Stop Oil activists described their early tactics as a non-violent assault on the capacities of the state, but no matter how many people showed up to a protest at an oil depot or Westminster, these actions couldn’t gain a fraction of the attention that two activists throwing soup on a Van Gogh painting did. The constructive attention that may be brought to an issue, however, is often bad news for individual activists themselves. In July 2024, five Just Stop Oil campaigners were given sentences of four and five years for organising protests on the M25, the longest ever for non-violent protest in the UK.11 Conspiracy charges are especially harsh and could result in anything up to a life sentence.

One of the opportunities to have an impact on the public debate was COP26, the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, which happened in Glasgow in 2021. Tim, along with a group of Insulate Britain activists, staged a sit-in on the M25 ahead of the conference. Familiar to this kind of action, he knew police response could vary. Sometimes they have to wait for the de-bonding team. Other times, police officers decide to just rip their hands from the asphalt instead. Whatever came, Tim was feeling supported by the activists around him. While this act of civil dis-
obedience was organised by Insulate Britain, many of the participants were from the Christian Climate Action group. ‘Doing actions on your own is mind-bending,’ he explained. ‘Doing it in a group, we can actually support each other.’

The anticipation built as the group distributed orange vests on the hard shoulder. Cars zipped past honking their horns as the drivers realised...