The second summer of love

Examining the freedom protest movement

“Are you coming to the protest in Oxford?”

I was asked a few weeks ago.

And it all came flooding back to me…….

2020.

The freedom movement ‘summer of love’.

Woah…..you had to be there, man……

Spring 2020.

I had never felt so isolated and depressed.

I would sit alone outside, watching the world go by, listening to an audio book about a couple who had lost everything and were living rough in Cornwall. I felt such strong feelings of claustrophobia. I was convinced I’d eventually need to do the same - go and live wild because I felt so hemmed in. A noose was tightening.

Next came Twitter.

It really was a beacon in the dark. To find others who felt the same and know I wasn’t alone was massively reassuring.

Then, came the first ‘freedom protests’.

I had never been to a march in my life.

“Didn’t work for Iraq”

Naysayers said……..but like every first timer popping her protest cherry, I knew THIS was different.

Hell, had they ever even REALLY BEEN IN LOVE with their cause?

Strangers were hugging each other. We danced, listened to inspiring speeches, held banners, wore flowers in our hair……(or was that just me?)

Damn, we were NAKED!

Okay, just our faces - but this was 2020 and as such, that was radical!

We did things that would render us social deviants, misfits……..like having selfies taken with Piers Corbyn.

But let’s admit it……

……..we did fuck all else.

Anyone who thinks those protests overturned any legislation or stopped bills being passed is, in my opinion, deluded.

The more rapidly the agenda progressed, the more I started to question the protests and those organising them.

There was one that took everyone on a random wander to a shopping centre.

Just……why?

Another was organised so all the members of a certain church were at the front of the march with signage that showcased their religious beliefs rather than the cause I was there to represent.

There seemed to be clashes surrounding organisers and routes.  There would be sinister twists as marches were infiltrated.

“This way everyone!”

Someone would pipe up.

“No - they are trying to steer you towards the police….come this way!”

Someone else would say.

“Follow the green smoke!”

“No, follow the red smoke!”

“Follow the whistle!”

“No! Follow the drum!”

I found this particularly telling, because it felt like an actual test of the ‘listen to your gut’ stuff we were parroting online. People would look to each other, unsure and it was enlightening to observe who the real leaders were - who took charge, who blindly followed.

Another issue I had with the protests, was that often there was no clear objective. Were we protesting about masks? Lockdowns? Vaccines for kids?

I was starting to feel like Carol Vorderman at a red carpet event - always there but no-one ever really knew why……

Dude, the summer of love was over.

It was at this point, I started to abandon the larger protests in favour of the smaller ones like the local roundabout protests. To me, those seemed a better use of my time - the visibility was greater and the messages were clearer.

But does that mean the large events weren’t of any value?

No.

They WERE of value.

Just not the value I wanted them to have.

Is there value in making new friends, sharing information, being inspired, sparking ideas off each other, finding solidarity?

Yes, absolutely!

We bounced off each other like a glitter ball at a disco. The energy was contagious. We took that light back home in our bellies like fireflies and lit rooms.

We were confident ambassadors for our cause. Others saw us strong in our power and joined in. We were role models.

But let’s be realistic.

That’s where it ended.

Did government ever concede our actions had changed anything?

No.

The lockdowns continued.

The jabs on children went ahead.

The care home staff continued to be held to ransom.

Yes, the mandate for NHS staff to be vaccinated was overturned, but I believe that was more to do with the refusal of a large percentage of hard to replace senior staff such as surgeons to be jabbed, than any protest.

We are at a different point than we were in 2020 and 2021.

There are still many real and pressing issues - 15 minute cities, digital ID, rapidly rising food and energy prices.

But the difference is, in 2020 many people were too scared to meet up with us to discuss it all, so taking our concerns on to the street seemed logical.

Now, to me it doesn’t.

Friends,  family and work colleagues are all more willing to engage with us, many are now questioning themselves- so why would we want to continue to promote an ‘us and them’ dynamic?

It surely makes sense to focus our efforts on making inroads with those at the beginning of their journey rather than continuing to do the ‘my tribe’ bit.

Another observation for me, has been the funnelling of the ‘freedom movement’ into various spin offs.

Popular ‘Truther’ personalities are getting bolder with their side hustles.

“Could I interest you in some God or Bitcoin with that, sir?”

has supersized into an obligatory God/Bitcoin Happy Meal.

Petitions and filling in consultations are order of the day again.  I used to be of the mindset of “do it all, they can’t do any harm” but these days, I believe that they do cause harm - by spreading false hope.

Paid events seem to be springing up like daffodils.

Everyone has a podcast to plug, a T-shirt to sell.

It is just all seeming a little disingenuous to me.

Just like the failed Woodstock revival in the 90’s, it’s not the same energy, the feeling has gone.

Will I go to another protest?

Well, maybe to see my friends, hang out.

Will it change the world?

I don’t believe so.

My light and being an example of the change I want to see will do that.

I will make ripples by using cash and manned checkouts, calling out bullshit as I see it and amplifying the good I see in human nature.

And if I don’t always remember to, if I screw up, that’s okay too, because none of us are perfect, are we?

I see my best way of making an impact to be by distancing myself from *the system* rather than embroiling myself within its mind games and thus upholding its credibility.

To me, a consultation, petition or protest is a rain dance.

I’ve worked out that I don’t get to decide if it rains.

But I do decide what I’m gonna do in the rain!

That’s where my power lies.

And I choose to dance.

Who’s dancing with me?