DEFT: A Declare Emergency Flyering Testimony
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Credit: Autonomedia/Dissent Network |
“Declare Emergency’s systematic mobilization strategy is modeled on approaches that have been used with great success in other A22 Network countries. This approach centers around locally-based, clearly planned, accountable, and well-supported leaflet-based recruitment campaigns.”
Healthily navigating the overnight train from Florida to North Carolina is a challenge on par with trying to alert people to the gravity of the climate emergency. An urgent horn blasts constantly in the middle distance, but inconsistently, never providing closure nor completely receding. Lights, equally, blare enough to prevent any meaningful rest but not enough to illuminate very well. Everyone tries to sleep through it all, with varying degrees of failure, at least in the cheap seats. And in my case at least, disease spreads, whether it's COVID due to a lack of fresh air or the inconvenient infections of impoverishment, misinformation and distraction. It’s a tall order, in other words.But unlike a chronically undermaintained Amtrak train, I’m getting ahead of schedule…
I don’t remember exactly how I ended up on Declare Emergency’s email list, but it seems to have happened around early July. They were a welcome addition to my seasoned (i.e. now mostly unread) inbox compared with some of the ethically questionable nonsense that mysteriously appears there no matter how often I unsubscribe. In September one of Declare Emergency’s newsletters went out advertising for mobilisation workers: paid part-timers to assist with flyer distribution in aid of growing a non-violent civil disobedience campaign. The central goal of this campaign (hopefully obviously) is to secure an emergency declaration from the government. Kind of a dream job if you’re a) in need of money for the begging bowls of the rentier class and b) riddled with a few decades of pent-up climate anxiety. I emailed them back.
One of the things that most appealed to me about the campaign is that this first step in their mobilisation strategy is completely offline. The process starts with a small crew doing four intense days of mostly indirect flyering (vehicles, noticeboards, communal spaces, etc), with the goal of getting out 5,000 humble sheets. These flyers advertise an introductory meeting to the campaign at the end of the week. A few social gatherings and non-violent civil resistance trainings later and these people are ready for the next action week and/or to continue gathering further supporters.
Online mobilising is obviously essential to any campaign at our current point in time. But the thought of getting to act on behalf of the planet while actually traversing it holds a refreshing appeal in these Black Mirror times of diminishing deposits of digital dopamine. Not only do the campaigners get to step out into the sunlight, those receiving the flyers get notified of something local that’s happening the old-fashioned way. Even for those people who are uninterested or hostile to the proposal (hence the high volume approach), that has to count for something. At one of the most successful weekly meetings since the start of my involvement, it transpired that none of the six attendees were even active on social media, leaving their brains room to absorb the messages printed on paper rather than gloss over them like another furiously ignored email.
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| Plant-based messaging in packs of ~100 |
There were yet more compelling reasons for me to take on this role in The Triangle (Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill). The deal negotiated would see me travel to North Carolina to get ensconced among an existing chapter for two weeks, then return to my (still hopefully existing) home in Tampa Bay for a further period doing communications work. Being a dedicated non-driver and minimal-flyer (if not flyerer), marooned in a town where poor people using free buses is seen as a problem worthy of correction, I tend to be left with limited opportunities to see the great outdoors or experience new locales. For years I’ve heard that North Carolina has somehow retained much of its natural beauty, that it attracts all sorts of cool granola-crunching people from the surrounding states, that it’s somewhere other than the rapidly decaying plastic-wrapped toaster oven that is Florida. I can confirm all of these things to be true.
During my time working and living with Tim Martin I learned that he is as passionate and dedicated to the cause as he is humble and considerate. In April of this year he and another Declare Emergency supporter, Joanna Smith, took part in an act of non-violent civil resistance at the National Gallery of Art in D.C. Attempting to draw attention to the children who are and will continue increasingly to suffer due to climate breakdown, they creatively wiped water-soluble paint on the display case of Edgar Degas’ sculpture Little Dancer of Fourteen Years, a piece made in honour of vulnerable children of the late 19th century. They caused no damage to the work of art and peacefully awaited arrest. For this heinous outrage the FBI were brought in and the pair were each slapped with charges that carried a maximum sentence of five years in prison and a fine of up to $250,000. (#FreeTheDegasTwo legal support fund.)
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The joys of offline mobilisation |
Despite still dealing with the legal aftermath of that action, I saw immediately that Tim had no intention of resting on that former admirable glory. We bonded quickly as he made sure all my visitor needs were met, distributed flyers with a requisite enthusiasm and disseminated even more once it became clear that I had become ill. He has sought to smash his previous flyering personal bests in the weeks that have followed, with increasing participatory success at the introductory meetings. Tim also found time to take care of his sons, maintain his independent business on the side, and attend what seemed to be a never-ending stream of daily Declare Emergency organisational meetings. His kitchen - a site of much solidarity over my two week visit - is stocked with granola, too.
The actual flyering was mostly a relaxing and quiet activity, with ample time for small talk, strategizing, solo contemplation and sightseeing. There were, inevitably, a small number of run-ins with employees feeling defensive of outsiders in their workplace parking lots, but for the most part our interactions with the public were of an encouraging nature. Sadly diminished as my own shifts were, it was a valuable mental audit that despite decades of messaging failure from the powers that be, the majority of people in the U.S. are somewhere on the spectrum between concerned and supportive and ready to engage in resistance.
And speaking of encouraging nature, a word on one of the recuperation retreats to the wild that my host provided in our downtime. William B. Umstead Park, much like its host planet, is surrounded by ever-encroaching industrial battering rams, such as some of the state's busiest highways and the “local” international airport. Aided by thoughts of our collective history, and a partial deafness keeping the sounds of internal combustion at bay, I was able to suspend my disbelief and imagine for a while that I had descended into an unspoiled and dense thicket of towering trees, and with it a world free of existential emergency. I thanked the trees for their flyering assistance, continued resilience and emotional support.
From what I’ve seen working with other participants of the Declare Emergency campaign in recent weeks, the positive traits that both Tim and the trees possess are found broadly among their ranks. Offer them your efforts, and you too can organise alongside dedicated people who get it, visit new places, experience nature’s wonders and appreciate them while they remain, and get off the internet, however fleetingly. The environmental movement can be a rollercoaster of emotions, no doubt, but even when things go frustratingly wrong or careen off plan, they can be considered a good yarn, an adventure, an interruption in the capitalist hellscape grind and logic of unimpeded productivity. Whatever happens we can say not only that We Tried, but that we lived. Just be sure to pack a mask for the ride.
