Watching the Olympic Flame make its way through London today, I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth the point was.  If China hoped to win favour by parading a candle through a foreign city, they would have been bitterly disappointed by the scenes from the UK.  You could barely see the torch at all as a swarm of police officers surrounded the inner circle of Chinese officials, with some B-list celebrity or athlete buried somewhere in the mix.  The event was so hideously over-policed, it is little wonder that the images displayed on Chinese state TV were of Steve Redgrave inside the secure confines of Wembley Stadium.

The torch relay is an unnecessary part of the Olympic process.  The nation identifies with the “Olympic spirit” (such as it is) at the games themselves, and the opening ceremony is something of a spectacle of internationalism.  The torch relay is nothing but a propaganda event, and the London leg failed to help either China or its games.

With the world’s media focused on the relay, though, London was given the opportunity to show a fantastic part of its culture to the rest of the globe.  Key flash points were thousand-strong with protesters campaigning against China’s occupation of Tibet and their rock-bottom human rights tradition.  Watching the protests (not the frankly uninspiring jogging police officers) made me rather proud to live in London, showing the world that we are less interested in some feeble flame and more concerned with human rights, democracy, and occupation.  I think the slant of media reports has been absolutely spot-on today: this was a day of protest against China’s record - note, not against the games - rather than a cheery love-in with the Chinese propaganda machine.

The draft Constitutional Renewal Bill appears to enable ministers to pass autocratic Decrees at whim.  I would hate to be accused of crying wolf, but evidence suggests that this is a genuine erosion - explosion, some would argue - of parliamentary government.  For all of the complaints against the EU Reform Bill, this is somewhere in the region of a billion times worse.

Those more knowledgeable on such issues than I am have written more about the issue, including the rather nice SpyBlog.  The Ministry of Truthhas published a letter first seen in the Times when these measures were first talked about, over two years ago:

Sir, Clause one of the Legislative and Regulatory Reform Bill (Comment, Feb 15) provides that: “A Minister of the Crown may by order make provision for either or both of the following purposes — a) reforming legislation; b) implementing recommendations of any one or more of the United Kingdom Law Commissions, with or without changes.”

This has been presented as a simple measure “streamlining” the Regulatory Reform Act 2001, by which, to help industry, the Government can reduce red tape by amending the Acts of Parliament that wove it. But it goes much further: if passed, the Government could rewrite almost any Act and, in some cases, enact new laws that at present only Parliament can make.

The Bill subjects this drastic power to limits, but these are few and weak. If enacted as it stands, we believe the Bill would make it possible for the Government, by delegated legislation, to do (inter alia) the following:

# create a new offence of incitement to religious hatred, punishable with two years’ imprisonment;

# curtail or abolish jury trial;

# permit the Home Secretary to place citizens under house arrest;

# allow the Prime Minister to sack judges;

# rewrite the law on nationality and immigration;

# “reform” Magna Carta (or what remains of it).

It would, in short, create a major shift of power within the state, which in other countries would require an amendment to the constitution; and one in which the winner would be the executive, and the loser Parliament.

David Howarth, MP for Cambridge, made this point at the Second Reading of the Bill last week. We hope that other MPs, on all sides of the House, will recognise the dangers of what is being proposed before it is too late.

PROFESSOR J. R. SPENCER, QC
PROFESSOR SIR JOHN BAKER, QC
PROFESSOR DAVID FELDMAN
PROFESSOR CHRISTOPHER FORSYTH
PROFESSOR DAVID IBBETSON
PROFESSOR SIR DAVID WILLIAMS, QC
Law Faculty,
University of Cambridge

If evidence was ever needed for the argument that Bills should be made public online, this is it.  A nice campaign has begun at mySociety (the people behind the rather wonderful TheyWorkForYou website), and their campaign pitch is so genial mock-sarcastic it is almost pleasant to read.  Ultimately, in this “Web2.0″ world, I can see no better check or balance to the government than the electorate.  Sign up to the Free Our Bills campaign!  Now!  If you need any more encouragement, read their “why?” section:

Being the people who run TheyWorkForYou we spend lots of our time taking rubbish, broken information from Parliament and fixing it up so that it makes a nice, usable site so you can find out whether your MP is actually working for you or not. Lots of people seem to like it, nearly 2 million came to visit last year.

It’s time for Parliament to improve its act and start publishing these vital documents properly in the first place. Quite apart from the fact that we’re a tiny charity without many resources to fix this information, you’re paying for them to produce it in a uselessly old fashioned way. Unless Parliament produces better bills:

• We can’t give you email alerts to tell you when a bill mentions something you might be interested in.
• We can’t tell you what amendments your own MP is asking for, or voting on.
• We can’t help people who know about bills annotate them to explain what they’re really going on about for everyone else.
• We can’t build services that would help MPs and their staff notice when they were being asked to vote on dumb or dubious things.
• We can’t really give a rounded view of how useful your MP is if we can’t see their involvement with the bill making process.
• We can’t do about 12 zillion other things that we’re not even bright enough to think of yet.

Once again I managed to turn up idiotically late to the protest, as I rapidly realised that I would as soon as I awoke. With it starting at 11 and me regaining consciousness at 10.36 this was effectively inevitable, along with everything else.

My time of arrival was further delayed by the nuisance of a closed tube station, something that was becoming irksomely common. I had to wait for an era for a rail replacement as well, something that made me glad I had not donned mask. That happened at the line switch, where I waited until the area of the platform I was on was suitable secluded and then donned the V mask that I had obtained from Forbidden Planet, along with the boxer shorts that I used to cover my scalp.

The attention of a civilian was attracted almost instantly when a small girl and her mother were to be seen standing next to me, the former gazing towards me in a mixture of uncertainty and awe. The gaze was maintained until I got onto the tube and seats were taken, with her occasionally gazing over. I was, however, approached by a pair of brash voiced Australian wenches who asked me:

“Why are you wearing undies on your head?”
“Because my hair is distinctive and I don’t want to be identified.” I replied.
“Who by?”
“The Church of Scientology.”

They nodded and left me alone.

I found a newspaper and sat reading it, which must have made quite a sight, until I was talked to by a tramp of some description with rather damaged teeth. He asked me where I was off to and whether it was a fancy dress party and I told him what I was doing.

I encountered three other latefags on my way out of the station and chatting we headed towards the first protest location, the London Church. I was wary of a massive turn-out shrink and initially as the protest came into sight I feared that that was exactly what had happened. On closer inspection and more thorough mental comparison it was only a minor reduction, I thought, but then once I reached the concrete platform that overlooked the Church I discovered that a vast swathe of Operation Party Hard was to be found up here.

Last time there had been but a smattering of anons up here but on this occasion there was copious amounts of cake and a vast horde of anons milling around, obtaining stickers, talking and enjoying themselves. It was clearly a considerably increased turn-out and better still there was a lot more cake, on which I gladly gorged myself. There were brownies and donuts and all manner of tasty, sugary things.

The protest was fully underway by this stage, with megaphones being used to blast music out including the inevitable Rick Rolls and, of course, Andrew WK’s Party Hard. The $cilon response was to stand inside looking furtive, with most of the windows vacant and the rooms empty besides some in the middle which had blinds down and thus presumably were full. The Church is adept at toying with preconceptions though, so that could simply have been a ruse. They only showed up in them in order to film us or to fill the hallway, with one fellow turning up on the Church roof with a camera and being met with a chorus of “Jump!” from the gleeful anons, to which he responded by trying {and failing} to hide behind a chimney.

The memes were out in force, as per usual. There was stretched across the balcony a set of print-offs taped together with longcat drawn across it and the slogan “Longcat is LOOOOOOONG!”, which was much like last time but even longer. Another informed us that “$cientology makes Longcat SAD”. Many posters involved mudkips and others simply stuff in reference to $cientology, such as “Scientology kills”. Some, of course, fused the meme and eaning, such as this picture which declared “Scientology’s closed, due to thetans.” “No Scientology please, we’re British” also deserves a special mention and twelve internets, as does “Down with this sort of thing”, which on February 10th was the funniest hand-sign but now become a proper banner.

A few were familiar there, such as the “404 Protester Not Found” hoodie pair and a couple, such as the lampshade men, I had heard would be there on Enturbulation. There were a few unexpected and utterly awesome costumes, like Medic Man, who had dressed up like a Battleship Trooper and handed out chicken after collecting money for a bucket in a bucket, and Mr. Marcab Mask Man who won the “Coolest mask” prize as easily as Pig Mask Man did last time.

There were not, on this occasion, protesters who surrounded the doors but apparently there were some Co$ plants who tried to break in last time so that might have been wise. The opportunity to Rick Roll right next to the Church itself would have been nice to repeat, though. The music was fun, but there was insufficient dancing for a true party, although more than enough cake. Perhaps the two were more than correlational.

Soon after I arrived, a lot sooner than I was expecting, the call went out that we were to move on. I had anticipated this occurring for 2 but it seemed that at least one anon had gotten bored and the rest of us listened to him as he was using a megaphone. Or perhaps this was some consensus established before my arrival, there certainly are a lot more people outside Tottenham Court Road. The police offered to escort us as we went to the train station and we accepted, the officer who informed us that it was available was very friendly, chatty and happy and the police received a massive round of applause just before we left.

As we headed off I commented to an anonywench that the boys in green {blue is too old school, it seems} had not really clocked that we were an international terrorist group yet and she laughed. We headed across the street and down the road, with the sight of the vast number of guy fawkes mask clad protesters behind me truly a vision to behold. Apparently we had not obtained {or sought?} permission to march so instead of doing that we simply all walked together, which apparently an event distinct from marching since we didn’t wave banners or chant as we went.

The video of us entering you can see here and was in fact filmed by an anon standing right behind me. It displays the glorious sing-along to the theme tune of The Fresh Prince, a programme which is the favourite of Anonymous, besides perhaps House. It occurred to me, though, that the idea behind memes was partially Richard Dawkin’s effort to explain the source of much pure human stupidity. A meme spreads not because it is worthwhile but instead because it is culturally contagious. The content of much of the material spread by Anonymous is of questionable worth, such as the Rick Rolls, but all that matters is that they are suitably spreadable. Some is truly of worth, such as 300 and, in its own way, Chocolate Rain but often Anonymous simply has a power to take the nadir of western culture and make it enjoyable. Even Andrew WK, the man who epitomised the nadir of British music when he headlined the NME tour and people turned up just to see Lost Prophets and left early. When you are being rebellious by enjoying the Lost Prophets then shit is bad yet Anonymous named the event in his honour and his sole memorable contribution was aired heavily and utterly enjoyed. That youtube film covers the even more devotional love Anonymous feels towards the Fresh Prince, who there are efforts to save from $cientology’s clutches, in much the same way they attempted to save a masturbating teen from a deranged hyper-feminist mother.

What he missed was that once inside one of the carriages the anon with the speaker played some pulsing techno that lead to us jumping wildly around to its meme-flavoured grooves as the train tore through the tunnel. This winful moment ended with us bundling out onto Tottenham Court Road platform and heading towards the “Dianetics and Scientology Lifestyle Improvement Centre”. The long walk was long but on the way I met someone who may or may not have been the awesome win lady who last time impressed us with her organisational skills and funness (a similar role being adopted this time by medic man) so that was alright.

This was arranged little differently to last time as there was no road block and instead of restricting the car traffic we were left clogging up one pavement entirely and thus restricting the human one. This also resulted in our large group being forced into spreading over a far larger area of the pavement than we had done last time, as there was no pen to hold us in. This resulted in many, myself amongst them, remarking “Long protest is long” quite approvingly.

Here there was more cake, or rather much the same cake relocated on a table that was brought over but abandoned once the protest had ended. The gathering was confronted with the same $cilon in command as before, the grumpy looking chap who I dubbed bald man. Unfortunately we were down perhaps the most popular member of the group there last time, thus gave demanding chants of “We want Red Tie!” Unfortunately he was not forthcoming {we speculated hopefully that he might have blown, but my own suspicion is that he simply proved to popular to post again}.

In attendance again though was fit window lady, who was snapping and filming us throughout. They had leafleteers at the doors as well as at other areas on the road {I encountered the latter later} and rounding up the $cilon posse was a fellow dressed in a fluorescent green jacket who seemed to be trying to use it to blend in with the identically dressed police, and failing. Later he was joined by a burly bulky man dressed in black, who was basically a bouncer, minus “If you’re wearing a mask you’re not coming in.” Both of those secfags were effectively rendered redundant by the massive police presence but I imagine that they wanted to feel other than totally impotent in a face of our cake-wielding protest so they put on a good show.

Finally of mention, of course, is all the cameramen. According to some gents I met later the police had one of their own but also shooting were various media, copious anons and the obligatory $ciCams which covered our every meme. The latter were intended to obtain material both for OSA (Office for Special Affairs, which is somehow even more sinister than it sounds) and in order to ensure that if anything nefarious was performed by anons it would turn up in propaganda videos.

I engaged in some chants and then wandered around to the outskirts of the long protest to see what was occurring. It seemed that a good deal of cake was being handed out to passersby, along with leaflets. I was given some of these but since that end was covered I moved down to the other, where I came across awesome azn girl. All I can say to describe awesome azn girl is that awesome azn girl is awesome. She was handing out fliers, talking excitedly and danced and sang along to the Rick Roll along with me, even admitting to forgetting some of the words, which is true of everyone but nobody admits to.

When I got to the end of my leaflets I was planning on just pissing off but she simply took some more and kept at it so I followed the example and quickly distributed some random news report which showed OSA being evil. Not enough in itself, I though, so I told the people passing it to examine “Xenu.net” for further information. Hopefully one of the numerous banners they would pass bearing the evil alien overlord’s name would help them work out the spelling.

At one point I attempted to cross the road and hand out some leaflets there, mainly because I had spotted a $ci doing it far away from the Centre and figured that it would be fun to balance things out. The thought of them using the increased traffic on that side of the road to profit from our protest was irksome to me. When I reached there the $ci said that I was not permitted to be there and threatened to fetch the police, so I told her to do so since I had committed no crime. She did and surprisingly the police woman concurred with the $ci in saying that I was “Not allowed” to be on this side of the road and suggested that I knew that already. In hindsight I should have said something encouraging to the $ci, or at least told her “You know the rules, and so do I.” Instead I decided to depart but as I was about to head back across someone asked me about what I was there for and I explained before crossing back, feeling glad that I had at least gotten the word out to one person.

That aspect, the firm restrictions, was strange and I decided to investigate further. I asked another policewoman on the other side of the road whether it was illegal for me to return and leaflet on the forbidden side. She said that we were not allowed to, or words to that affect, which did not really answer the question. When asked why she said that it was for reasons of public disruption, that we were already causing a good deal of. Disrupting the public, however, is by no means a crime and thus I asked her again if to disobey would be breaking any actual laws and whether I could get arrested. She answered in terms that made it pretty clear that the answer was “no” but that they would definitely prefer it if we remained on the assigned side. I decided to make her job easier as she seemed nice (another anon and I later had a lovely talk with her when she discussed the hardships of her job and told us that the police transport is filled with their own cake so they neither needed or were allowed ours, meaning that they really do have a partyvan) but it irked me that the lines between illegality and inconvenience were getting so blurred.

At any rate, to cheer me up two encounters heartened me: while passing by a pair of middle aged women asked me what we were protesting about, “Against them, I hope” and I replied happily that we very much were and they left pleased and with a leaflet. Another man can across with a piece of Co$ drivel and asked if I had a lighter. I had soon disposed of all the leaflets and left the awesome azn girl to distribute her stuff, encountering on my way one of the most awesome displays of the day. As the man responsible said: mudkips make everything win.

(Our tech is free!)

I came across a group of four middle aged men wearing no masks, which usually designates little but here meant that I was in the presence of win-pirate legends.

‘Are you the Old Guard?’ I asked.
‘Am I the old guy?’ one replied, with a laugh.
(My mask had left me muffled.)
‘Old Guard I repeated.’
He chuckled and replied in the affirmative, with his friend remarking “They’re just platinum highlights…”
The third I had met already but I was in a different mask on this occasion so I had to re-introduce myself. He had no idea who angry bald fag was but was as affable and friendly as ever.

The misunderstand man was also friendly and explained that he was there since his son had been Disconnected from him for six months. Apparently it had left the poor boy a mental wreck and taken him a matter of years to recover, even seven or eight years later he was now left damaged from the experience. Talking to somebody who had actually suffered as a consequence of the cult was not something that I had done much and it made my sense of purpose yet greater.

According to this man David Miscavige was likely to batten down the hatches and attempt to ride out Anonymous’ efforts but if the cult did go into implode then there would need to be some facilities even beyond the Free Zone (who he talked about in dismissive tones) required to allow the continued existence of the “parishioners” to survive without the edifice of the Church. Effectively they are left institutionalised by the experience and simply can not exist as a functional being beyond its clammy confines and mad rituals.

This was a worry but not a case against tearing the whole thing down. So long as more can be prevented from encountering such a situation then profit has been made.

I then saw the Free Zoner that I met last time. The best way to describe Free Zoners is that they are like normal Scientologists but without all of the lies. I had to explain to him, like with the Old Guard, that we had met before but that I was masked differently and thus he would probably not recognise me. “That’s the idea” he replied, with a chuckle, and I agreed.

He was as friendly as last time and in discussion with a pretty blonde anon. His history with the cult I had heard before but he went into it in greater detail this time: apparently when he criticised the Church’s structure and activities they ploughed through his life to try and find evidence for him not being “Clear”, eventually settling upon a point in his American childhood when he had encountered a psychiatrist at age three. Their suggestion was that he had chemically hypnotised and thus a tool of theirs ever since. At this point he simply “blew” and left the Church altogether without permission. He did not, however, leave Scientology and blonde anon asked him something that I had been wondering since February 10^th: a good deal of Anonymous’ rhetoric was aimed at associating negatives with Hubbard, indeed the choice of the 15^th as date was to make mock celebration of his birthday, which was 2 days before. How exactly did he, as a Scientologist, feel about this? It was here where he really surprised me.

When he spoke of L. Ron Hubbard he did not cloud his talk with the hagiographic praise that I associated with all $cilons, refraining from canonising him and instead stating that although in his later life he became “paranoid” and rather unhinged, perpetuating many unethical actions, in his earlier years prior to this he created a philosophy worthy of following. As a defender of Red Ken I understand and appreciate the argument that an utterly odious man can still create considerable achievements, indeed the existence motivational fallacy shows that even someone interested solely in making money can still create something worthwhile, so blonde anon and I pressed home about the nature of his philosophy.

It turned out that neither of us shared his basic premise that humans are spiritual beings but she skilfully described my view and hers in better terms than I ever could, saying that she thought she was a physical being in possession of a mind capable of coming to consider itself as a spiritual being, which is impressive in itself. Free Zone chap described the nature of Scientology some more regardless, with the central idea being that there is a “Reactive mind” that is the same sort of type possessed by a deer in a forest, which relies entirely upon instinct to guide its actions. Alternatively there is the “Analytic mind” which is the distinctively human form that assesses things with reason and logic rather than responding to stimuli directly and doing that alone. Scientology states that the two minds are hosted within one brain for humans and through purging yourself of the former and ascending the latter you can become a superior person to before.

This is something of a fusion of a philosophical tradition stretching back to the Classical Greeks with a heavy dose of Buddhism, that blonde anon identified, and heavy amounts of psychology in the process used to switch the states of mind (auditing is effectively an unorthodox form psychotherapy using a stripped down polygraph machine as a prop). When we discussed the nature of the “e-meter” he fell a little quiet, perhaps as we seemed dubious as to the reliability of this “monograph” given that even devices which measure far more readings than merely skin electricity levels are not considered dependable.

However he was perfectly happy to talk about the Church’s nefarious activities, which he suggested did not constitute a critique of the philosophy but instead a perversion of it. He confirmed that Scientology’s “Twelve Dynamics” had been altered by the present leadership, with David Miscavige having changed the Second Dynamic from “Sex and procreation” to “Creativity” since members of the SeaOrg (an elite organisation of chronic ultra-loyalist $cis who sign billion year contracts and paid £25 a week) are forbidden to have families and in fact forced to have abortions if they fall pregnant. Just for context, this is somewhat like if the Pope declared that he was going to alter one of the Ten Commandments in order to make specify explicitly that statues of saints and the Virgin Mary were ok, except even more extreme. “Squirrelling the tech” is a great crime within Scientology and anyone making alterations is seem as the vilest form of traitor, for that reason the Free Zoners are invariably accused of as much by the Church.

Indeed, the sheer amount of hatred for the Free Zone exceeds even that they express towards critics. The entirely external opponents of the Church are a threat, while the Free Zone are a challenge. Anonymous has always used the Free Zone as an example of us being opposed to an institution rather than faith. We have no grudge with them and if they were to be all that was left of Scientology then the matter would be considered a triumph and Anonymous would move on. They have not attempted to censor the internet, they did not kill Lisa McPherson, they have never tried to drive anyone to suicide. They are eccentric, certainly, but also harmless and often downright useful.

Like, for instance, when he started to talk to me about magic.

This was another surprise but it was included without ceremony as the final point in a discussion about influences. Anyone who investigates briefly can uncover Lafayette relationship with Aleister Crowley and his “magickal” theology, Satanism. Hubbard was immersed in the occult for a considerable length of time, indeed he had a close relationship with the Thelemic scientist Jack Parsons, with whom he conducted sex rituals in order to summon a Goddess named Babalon and who’s fusion of empirical science and magic (he gave a prayer to Pan when launching his first rocket) no doubt served as something of an inspiration for Hubbard as well.

Crowley, though, clearly had an even greater impact upon him. Scientology is a philosophy which teaches that through a process of ritual and a mystical act that a person can improve their existences through altering their perception of everything. Magic is entirely based around ritual and the power of perception. The Church will deny this tie and indeed stated that Hubbard’s involvement consisted of “Infiltrating a black magic ring in America in order to destroy it”, yet the Free Zoner told me of a speech where Hubbard had announced that he would recommend to anybody attempting to understand the Universe the works of “My good friend, Aleister Crowley”.

Some deep discussion followed this, with the blonde anon initially arguing against Alan Moore’s suggestion (repeated ineptly by me) that the existence of God in the minds of humans is the most important place that it can happen, suggesting that reality does not change according to the suspicions of individuals. We talked deeply for a little while and the Free Zoner seemed to become a little lost. I decided to talk specifics and asked him if the massive stone cross with a cross on the top of the building, the Scientology logo, was originally a symbol of Aleister Crowley’s. He told me that he wasn’t certain but knew it to be a magical symbol of some form.

His forthright honesty with this issue was striking and it seemed that he posed the perfect contrast to the furtive secrecy which the Church protects itself with. The difference, of course, was that he was a lone individual able to tell what he knew while they are concerned with popularity and the profit margin. If he was wishing to “Clear the world” he was certainly going about it in a strange way, given that so many would recoil from Crowleyian influenced anything since he was a man that declared Christianity an obsolete relic of the last aeon and proclaimed himself the Dark Messiah. But for the Church that is their ultimate aim, perhaps even their sole goal. So he could tell me all manner of interesting facts about his faith’s founder while they were left spewing white washed lies.

After this I got back to the proper protesting, waving a banner which he had given me advising that the $cientologists “Google Free Tech”, not because I admire Church devoid Scientology but simply because I knew that nothing would irritate or worry the high-ups more. The chants were heavy at this stage, ranging from the entirely truthful “We’ve got better leaflets” to the hazing, droning “Xeeeeee-nuuuuuuuuuuuu, Xeeeeeeeeeeeee-nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu”. “We have cake, they have lies” was another popular line and, naturally, Happy Birthday Dear LRon was sung at a few points, but not excessively. The stereo anons were trying and failing to use the aforementioned Anonymous affect on “Cotton Eyed Joe”, which stubbornly remained overly shiny shit. I gave a few calls of “Anonymous, what is your…?” and found the power of the response utterly satisfying. Red Tie did not return but we had a new target named “Angry Woman”, who was angry. She refused to offer us any smiles despite repeated demands.

Also, cocks:

I then encountered a pair of people I was not expecting to see at all that day, the anarcho-communists which I had clocked last time around. My considerations of them since had presumed that they were simply going to go to Stop The War in Trafalgar Square instead but it seemed that I was mistaken. When asked I was simply told “The Trotskyites aren’t as funny”, which was undeniably true. If there is one thing you can rely upon the SWP for it is being a vacuum for all humour. They were not going to be standing around exchanging far-lefty esoteric Marxist in-jokes and neither would they have cake, thus their experience was far inferior to the one I enjoyed. Apparently though, the anarchs had paid a visit during the break between the Church and Centre protests, albeit a brief one.

I stayed with them talking to one about his views on anarchism and so on (apparently anarcho-capitalist is an oxymoron, although I suspect that they might say the same thing about anarcho-communist) but deemed it fairly obvious why an anti-hierarchical and anti-clerical pair would object to a Church that dominates and exploits its “parishioners” quite so thoroughly, so didn’t ask.

The rain had began to spit down sporadically, warning but not really wetting very heavily. A surprising amount had stayed but then dispersed. We remained standing around until the police approached us and told us we had to move along. The other anarch asked why and was told that we could move along or “You’re coming with us”. He stripped this of the euphemism quickly, enquiring as to what law we would be breaking in order to warrant arrest. He was told that the protest had ended at five (since Anonymous has no leaders exactly who this was agreed with is an enigma to me) and we replied that the protest was over and that we were no longer protesting. The anarcho-communist flag had been wrapped up, we were no longer chanting. Apparently us wearing masks and standing in the same place that the protest had been was what mattered though. We replied that we were wearing the masks since we were wary of being identified and recorded by the $cilon cameras and then the Other Anarch Anon was informed that since he was wearing a mask and that the policeman was “not satisfied” with this he could be stopped and searched under the Terrorism Act and then the $cientology Centre would “get a nice picture of your face”.

Why exactly he was treating the anarchs (and, I suppose, me) as if we were terrorists and using the unethical practices of a wealthy cult as blackmail was not something that I received an opportunity to ask us about as another anon advised we moved on and we followed this, crossing the road to the tube and heading off to the pub, which is a story in itself.

The protest was perhaps not as fine in atmosphere as the last one but then for a second event it could have been far worse. Our numbers were even greater when I had imagined they would be diminished and this time we had far more cake and thus much more pleasure. We should have stuck around at the Church for longer but the Tottenham Court Road protest was better for us not being boxed in. Again, we raised awareness to all the passers-by as well as those inside the cult, which are both equally important. Better still many lulz were had and the entire thing was permeated with epic win. If this becomes a monthly feature, which it seems likely to given the triumph, then it is hard to see how the $cilons can long survive the endless PR disaster. The anarch explained himself to me by pointing out that the protest against the war was the 5^th anniversary of the largest one. This was not an achievement but instead an indication of their constant, persistent failure. With $cientology, at least, it seemed like they stood a chance of success in achieving their aims. And even if he was wrong we’ll still have had a fun time.

Between 1 and 2 million people marched on the streets of London on 15 February 2003.  3 million in Rome.  Conservative estimates say 10 million took to the streets in 300 cities around the world.

Five years later, and the British public has not been motivated like this since.  Your thoughts in the comments section,  please.

Update: Well, would you look at that?

As my history with protests go this was certainly a first.

But then, the same went for just about everyone there.

The first and most vital stage was to mask up. Scientology, especially for a group that ostentatiously promotes free speech, has a shoddy track-record when it comes to its treatment of critics and as Vamp said the most cunning and sly tactic of Anonymous is their concealment of identities. Unfortunately I had no scarf to hand, or rather there was one which would not wrap properly owing to consisting of an inappropriate fabric. Instead I improvised and used a pair of brown boxer shorts to conceal up to my nose, with the scarf covering my hair and the back of my head assisted by a hefty hood.

I arrived after quite a delay owing to the District line being dead for much of its run. I ended up arriving nearly an hour late but it was hardly as if anyone besides me was going to complain. When I finally got there another masked anonymous was to be found at the exit, who made a quick phone call so that he could find the way. I followed.

(more…)

Unfortunately owing to a prior engagement I am not able to attend the protest today but Fenby has informed me that he will be there and plans to write a report too, just so long as he doesen’t get locked up and forcefully purged of his body thetans.  He says he’ll be the one wearing the scarf.

And if that doesn’t narrow it down then…Good, that was the point.

About time that the nationals caught up on this one.

Page three of the Guardian, that article, and although I am hardly going to declare myself a member of a group called ‘Anonymous’ I must say that I have nothing but support for their efforts. It is true that there efforts to take Scientology from the web through crashing their website via the “Low Orbit Ion Cannon” do cause them to descend to Scientology’s level a concentrated effort to damage this cult as much as possible within the confines of the law is well overdue.

Indeed there was one before, when they drew the ire of the Cult of the Dead Cow over their efforts to crush free speech on the early web. But it is clear that this was a less than total success given the recent, seemingly inexorable, growth of the Church.

I am not exactly sure what a protest against them will achieve besides perhaps a chance to identify us if masks/scarves slip but I remain interested in the proposition. I may well be too busy that weekend to attend but I understand that Fenby is already filled with anticipation and is readying appropriate concealment even as I type. I suspect that a report may well be forthcoming.

The truly impressive part of the entire affair is the downright cunningthat characterises it. Take the comment made by the Scientologist in that article: “We don’t get into responding to such threats on the internet, particularly anonymous ones,” There is a simple reason: the entire principle of Scientology’s approach to any and all criticism is a responsive offensive. That is to say that rather than justify or defend themselves they simply unload everythingthey can upon the person making the claims. They are perfectly happy to lie, distory, pillage personal history, rake up filth and toss it around like confetti and generally do all that they possibly can in order to defame their critic.

This has been done plenty of times before and will happen again to anybody who wants to challenge them. They use a putrid mixture of ad hominem, non sequiter and strawman ad nauseum and simply replace their rationality with belligerence.

If you want a prime example then watch this. 

That is, shockingly, standard practice. The movement’s fonuder, L Ron Hubbard termed this “Fair game”. Think a mixture of character assassination and total war.

This is where the genius of Anonymous becomes most prominent: as an organisation without any identity there is literally nothing Scientology can do in response. Their entire strategy is one of a vicious reaction, of a snarling hailstorm of attacks without relent. If there is no target then they are nuclear warheads being shot into empty sky.

They have tried, of course, dubbing the group “Pathetic” and “Computer geeks” {strangely enough being dependent upon computer geeks to protect your website is just fine…} but that just seems weak and can not compare to calling a specific critic a child-molesting, long time delinquent psychopath with an out of date tax-disk.

The only course left to them is attacking ideas and since what Anonymous is saying is entirely true they can only say that they are mistaken. But apparently this is a form of mistaken which involves looking at all the facts, reading official documents and consider case histories of a schizophrenic woman left alone in locked room without any medication to die of exposure and be partially eaten by cockroaches.

It is the kind of mistaken based upon empirical evidence.

So none of the slander, libel or slurs will stick, before there is no surface. Nobody actually knows who the people behind this effort are, so there standard filth-mining tactics are entirely impotent. This entire affair is permeated with brilliance, because they can expect what’s coming but can’t come up with any lies because although they know what and they know when they have no idea about who, which leaves their tactics aimless.

If you are in the area then come along. Co-ordination can be found at Chanology’s site here.

Turn up, bring a mask, have lulz.

Today over on Lenin’s we were treated.

I had been wondering what exactly Respect had planned for this year’s election after the split since it happened {and yes, I am perfectly aware of how strange that makes me sound} and suddenly it all becomes clear in a single grumpy leftist post.

It was, as ever, made in his inimitable style:

“No-one else will touch the bankers and the speculators: Livingstone has bent over backwards to accomodate them for the last eight years; Johnson doubtless fagged for a few at Eton;”

But more interestingly he outlines just exactly what the Socialist Worker Pa-uh, sorry, Respect, have planned for this year’s vote. It would seem that Respect Renewal are not really hoping for anything special but this could just be the SWP slant that perputally provides a grim murk over his view, obscuring the truth.

That the RR are not even going to bother to put forward a candidate, though, is just downright stupid.

Perhaps it is wise, given their presumably limited funds but given that this is the first {thus most important} electoral test since the schism it seems foolish to not even attend. Perhaps they are simply hoping that the SWP version is going to implode shortly, or be unveiled, but given that all of its commands presumably now originate from Central Committee I find this highly unlikely.

I find it notable that the Morning Star was going so far as to argue against somebody standing against Livingstone as far back as four years ago, rather interesting when you consider the attention drawn to his membership of the hard-left.

Lenin seems keen and expectant, seeming to actually be of the view that they might obtain a GLA seat this time. I remain dubious, but this party, that is effectively a thinly constructed facade and SWP front, seems to have taken that raggedy bunch as close to power as they are ever likely to get.

That their method was duping the reds of London into mistaking them for someone else is a testament to how truly popular they are amongst the working class.

A fantastically fun article was to be found in The Guardian today, and I really would suggest that you give it a read.

A few years ago the environment was unquestionably the issue which I considered of most importance and although a lot of the prickly radical sharp edges have sense been blunted it is still something that concerns me. Furthermore as an admirer {if not advocate} of Anarchy the notion of various ships abducting, boarding, ramming and delaying each other in a fashion only restrained and guided by ethics and profit seems fascinating. There is obviously no form of law enforcement present here and thus personality, talent and the bottom line reign.

If Watson wants to ram the Japanese vessels with his own he can get away with it, if the whalers want to hold boarders prisoner then they seem able to. Apparently Australia are sending out a ship to pick up the pair of campaigners held captive, which rather ruins my fantasies of the commercial vessel being stormed and sunk by vengeful eco-nuts, but this remains a fascinating conflict in a gorgeous back-drop.

The philosophy of the whalers is something which either seems to be a form of brutal, relentless egoism {if you reckon that they are lying, which does seem likely} or else a harsh humanist view of science. Perhaps they are divided between the two. More clearly separated, however, are its opponents, which the article does a fine job of illustrating the dichotomy between. It seems to run deeper still than these surface issues, however, being more than a mere matter of tactics and attitudes: Greenpeace seem to be operate from a rather less extreme view that animal life should be cherished and protected while Watson works from the principle that they are of equal value and that murdering a whale is as dire a deed as killing another human being.

Once this perspective is accepted a good deal is possible: the Japanese are homicidal sociopaths who are attempting murder while the role of the Shepherds is to act as vigilante and hero to save these beautiful beings from becoming victims. By comparison to mass murder a few tossed jars of acid or excrement seem negligible sins.

Ultimately I hope that one group or the other, or a combined effort, will prevent the whaling continuing and the entire affair will be enthralling to follow. But a misanthrope is a misanthrope and I must say that the diverse neo-hippie pacifists are a far less cool but far more ethically impressive model.

An Inauspicious Start

I see little point explaining the set-up of the protest here.  It’s already been done several times on this website, so I’d only be wasting keystrokes.  Instead, I’ll move straight into the narrative.

The protest began inauspiciously enough.  All of us arrived a little late – all perfectly unavoidable, but late nonetheless.  This didn’t really matter, though.  We didn’t have a howling mob of intransigent libertarians waiting for us, so no-one was kept waiting.  Indeed, it would be rather hard for all of three protestors (yes, three!  Aren’t we good at drumming up support…) to hold each other up.  But still, an inauspicious start.

This floundering beginning was, ultimately, followed up by a long-drawn out flop of a protest.  It’s hardly surprising – it’s very difficult to draw much attention to yourself with only three protestors.  But the first problem we hit had nothing to do with that.  It was even worse than that.

We couldn’t work out where to protest.  We had ourselves, we had our nice, ironic leaflets, and we had our permission to protest.  We were ready to go out there and defend our rights through ridicule.  But we didn’t know where precisely we were allowed to ridicule.  On Friday night, Ali received a rather confusing missive from the Met informing him that they were placing, “no restrictions,” on the protest – before going on to say that he was allowed to protest on the, “East Side of Parliament Square and Millbank.”

So, we weren’t restricted – but we weren’t allowed out of the East Side of the Square, or of Millbank.  There is a gap of several hundred yards between the East of Parliament Square and Millbank.  This gap includes the centre of Parliament Square, Parliament itself and Westminster Abbey.  In short, it contains all of the bits where there are people.

I’m sorry, was that something about no restrictions?  Either they were trying to stall the protest by restricting it, or simply by confusing us.  Whichever it was, they hadn’t been very helpful so far – getting back to us the day before the protest, sending a bewildering letter, and generally restricting us.  But then again, I suppose that’s superficially what we were protesting about.  It’s what Ali wrote on the permission form.  Maybe they took us at face value, without the benefit of a glaringly sarcastic leaflet to guide them…

After a few moments heated debate – that is, amiable and confused dithering – the, “Crush Freedom,” protest group decided to strike out for Millbank.  So, across Parliament Square.  We had leaflets in our hands.  I do hope that doesn’t count as protest in the eyes of the police.  We wouldn’t want to break the law now, would we?

Of course, it turned out that Millbank was, by and large, completely empty.  On the way there, we passed the Home Office.  On an impulse, I dashed across the deserted road.  Wouldn’t it have been amusing to post a leaflet to Jacqui herself?  Oh, yes, hilarious.  Assuming, of course, that it wasn’t burned before reaching her for fear of being shot through with anthrax…

Unfortunately, the swine who designed the building failed to include a letter-box.  This ghastly oversight, compounded by the presence of sliding glass doors, made getting the leaflet to the erstwhile Chief Whip turned National Whip nigh-on-impossible.  For a moment, I considered nailing it to the flag-mast outside the building, a sort of latter-day Martin Luther for civil-liberties.  Minus the homophobia, religious fanaticism and the funny hat…

Of course, this scheme was also shelved when I realised none of us were in the habit of carrying a hammer and nails.  It’s probably just as well.  There’s always the risk that they’d take the flyer seriously and be inspired to crush yet more freedoms – or just arrest us as the sort of nutters who’re willing to post insolent notes to the Home Secretary.

A few buildings later, we found DEFRA.  They don’t have a letter-box either – these architects really ought to consider pretentious farts hoping to confuse the government when they design buildings – but they did have a set of railings.  In went a leaflet.  Of course, DEFRA have nothing to do with this protest, and Hilary Benn is immensely unlikely to get the flyer – but if he does…

Actually, if he does, I’m rather glad it’s the Fifth Way mentioned and not here.

Leaflets, Ladies and Laughter

But enough of this.  Millbank wasn’t really worth looking at – there were even less people than the thoroughly underpopulated East Side of Westminster Square.  Certainly, we didn’t shift any of the leaflets there – not to people, anyway.  We therefore moved onto Parliament Square itself, ending up a few yards away from the visitor’s entrance to the Houses of Parliament.

Of course, this was (I think?  That letter was so vague and so specific at the same time that I still don’t know) strictly illegal.  If we were taking those locational instructions seriously, then we were somewhere outside the permitted protest zone.  But, given that the protest was ostensibly for the protest ban zone, in order to demonstrate the beauty of free speech and the stupid superfluity of the law, breaking the restrictions placed on us added to the irony no end.  So we did it.

Well, that, and the fact that a policeman walked right in front of us while we were leafleting rather confirmed that they couldn’t care less about us.

The leafleting itself was largely uneventful.  As I’ve learned in the past waving buckets for charity, the general public has a lofty disdain for people on the street trying to attract their attention.  Actually, I’d know that even if I hadn’t leafleted or collected money.  I’m a member of the general public, I ignore them too.  Perhaps a tad hypocritical given that I know how frustrating it is for the waver – but there we go.  Would you do any differently?

The highlight of the actual protest was without a doubt when someone took the leaflets at face value.  A corpulent woman with an indistinguishable accent approached us, looking puzzled.  “What are you handing out leaflets for?” came the question, slightly strained in tone.  We handed her a leaflet.

They don’t take long to read.  It didn’t take long for her to look up, looking utterly puzzled…

“You’re protesting to…”

There was a bemused pause.  We hadn’t been ready for anyone to confront us.  What on earth were we going to say?  That we weren’t serious?  Explain it immediately?  Play it straight?

“We’re protesting against the right to protest,” filled in the ever-helpful R.E Vamp, stammering a little.  The woman’s wobbly draw dropped a little further.

“Why?”

Ah.  That one’s always the killer, isn’t it?  Irrational right-wing authoritarians who hold meetings like this in good faith can never answer it.  The lack of rationality tends to do that.

“They’re…uh…” R.E Vamp floundered, jaw flapping a little.  Poor him.  I should probably have chipped into help with an ad-lib fascistic rant about protecting the leaders, but I was having too hard a time keeping a straight face for that.  I’d have floundered like him because of that, no doubt.  So no need to make a fool of myself as well, when there was this fine entertainment laid out before me.  Was that too cruel?

“They’re…subversive.  Yes, subversive.”

I can’t recall if the woman actually said anything at this point, or whether she was just too confused to quite frame the words.  There was a hugely awkward pause for a moment.  The woman was completely aghast.  She really seemed to think we wanted to stop people protesting in Parliament Square.  Vamp coughed tentatively.

“We’re…not actually serious.”

The woman laughed nervously, as if a trio of madmen were gazing at her.  (Were they?  You decide, dear reader…)

“I rather hoped not…but…”

We explained the point of the protest, each trying to hold back the laughter I suspect.  The woman, meanwhile, laughed nervously again, scurrying away shortly after.  Out came the laughter…

In retrospect, I worry that more people might take the leaflets at face value.  The irony is pretty blatant to someone who knows about SOCPA, but given that about half of the leaflets we handed out were to tourists, not all of them might get it.  No doubt, there’s now a deeply confused family somewhere in downtown Tokyo that is convinced the UK is full of strange, quasi-fascistic youths out there to, “Crush Freedom.” (We shouted that after a few people we handed leaflet to).  Ah well.  Such is the price one pays for protesting outside parliament, no doubt.

Douglas makes a mistake

Our official protest finished at 12, so we went for a spot of light lunch and a (ruinously expensive) hot chocolate from the Café Nero by Westminster Tube.  As an aftermath, Ali and R.E Vamp decided that we should hand a leaflet to Brian Haw.  I followed at first, a little unwillingly.  I’m somewhat less in awe of the man than Vamp, and wasn’t sure I really felt the need to actually speak to him.  Of course, I deeply respect the conviction and courage he’s displayed in actually sitting out there for six and a half years – and I wholeheartedly support him against the government in his attempts to exercise the fundamental right to open his mouth.

I can’t help feeling, though, that when he opens his mouth, he doesn’t express an entirely rational view.  He’s always struck me as one of those on the anti-war left who’s so opposed to any conflict that he’ll ignore so many faults on the part of Saddam Hussein and the Taliban as to deny their sheer evil.  Fine, he wants to oppose the war.  I do too, because as I said in my article yesterday, I don’t think it works.

But what I don’t understand is how someone who opposes oppression, or murder, or tyranny, can ignore a brutally tyrannical regime like Ba’athist Iraq.  The Taliban and Ba’ath dictatorships were undeniably vile.  And yet there very rarely seems to be a word in the anti-war movement written against them.  It’s almost as if they hadn’t existed, so eager is the intransigent element of the pacifist movement to condemn the war.  In the Christmas Special of New Statesman, Haw wrote an article declaring solidarity with protestors against Mugabe in Zimbabwe.  How can he oppose Mugabe and yet ignore Hussein?

Of course, I’ve no idea if he ignores Saddam or not.  I’ve never heard him say a word against his dictatorship while he’s calling the Labour government one.  But for all I know, he could hate Hussein more than I could possibly imagine.

That’s not the point though.  I’m not trying to describe my considered reflections, but my feelings and fears at the time.  My fear was that he was sort of narrow-minded zealot who was so set in his view that war was evil that he hadn’t realised military dictatorship was too.

This seemed all but confirmed by a poster that caught my eye on the edge of the squat.  “STOP GENOCIDE IN IRAQ!!!” it said. (The triple punctuation may have done something to increase my ire.  If you can’t make a sentence emphatic without resorting to shallow punctuation mistakes, then rephrase it.  If you can’t rephrase it, then don’t say it as you’ll look so silly as to completely undermine yourself.)

The poster then went on to lambaste the government for committing genocide on the Iraqi people.  It conspicuously ignored the fact that Saddam did commit genocide – the Kurds didn’t even get a mention.  To my mind at the time, this seemed like rank hypocrisy.  I was almost disgusted by it.  So I couldn’t bring myself to go and speak to him after all.

On reflection, that was perhaps the most stupid mistake of the day.  I might have been completely unfounded in my assessment.  I should have gone and confronted him with it, and found out his attitude.  It might have been the most interesting thing to happen to me for a while.  But, of course, we all do stupid things occasionally – and that was my idiocy for the week there.  More fool me.

Reflections

On the whole, it’s best to treat yesterday as a learning process, I think.  Frankly, the protest was a bit of a flop.  There were only three of us.  We drew absolutely no attention to ourselves.  We only shifted about 100 leaflets.  We probably confused half of the people we gave them to.  We couldn’t even work out where we were meant to be.  All in all, we were virtually useless.

But it’s a start!  Without that flop, we’d have no idea what to do next time.  And I think we were able to draw some lessons out of it all, at least.  So, for anyone who wants to organise a protest and has as little idea as we did yesterday, a few tips:

• Organise.  This, I suspect, was our biggest failing.  It’s probably the reason we only had three people turn up – because we weren’t definite enough about dates, times and places until the very last minute, no-body thought it was worth turning up.  Picking Christmas was probably a bad idea too – far too many people are away for it to work.
• Get noticed.  We did this very poorly.  We didn’t make any noise.  We didn’t make people notice us.  We didn’t even have a banner.  People probably weren’t even aware that we were protestors.  Definitely needs attention in the future.
• Don’t be too nervous of the police: They should warn you before arresting you, it seems, as long as you’re not waving a gun about.  Even if they don’t, principle probably dictates that this shouldn’t be an issue.  Certainly, we couldn’t have afforded to be braver, I suspect.

So, a flop, but a fun one.