Enemies of the People
Extinction Rebellion got a lot of attention for its protest during a Broadway play. At what cost?
Shouting About Climate Change on Broadway
Climate change has been on my mind the past couple weeks, partially because we’re finishing up cherry blossom season here in DC. Not only was peak bloom this year nearly the earliest on record, but the National Parks Service announced that 150 trees—including national icon Stumpy—would have to be cut down for a seawall renovation project to combat rising sea levels around the Tidal Basin, where most of the trees are.
Seeing the cherry blossoms myself on a cold and windy Monday in mid-March, just 24 hours after enjoying a spritz in the park in a T-shirt and shorts really drove the point home.
What also drives the point home, at least I imagine, is someone shouting it at you in the middle of a Broadway play.
Yes, climate change has also been on my mind ever since I heard that on March 14, the first press performance of An Enemy of the People was interrupted by activists from the group Extinction Rebellion, a worldwide organization that has become famous for its disruptive protests.
Admittedly, my first thought was confusion, particularly because the choice of play to protest seemed odd. An Enemy of the People, written by Henrik Ibsen in 1882, is kind of an environmentalist play.
The show follows a medical officer of a new spa in a small town who discovers that the spa’s water supply is polluted. The trouble is, the spa is supposed to drive up tourism in the town, saving its economy. The doctor at first finds supporters for his warning that the spa be shut down, but one by one, each of the townspeople seems to choose convenience over what is right.
According to members of the press who were there that night, the protesters were apparently very exact in their choice of disruption, standing up and shouting—one at a time—during a scene that takes place at a public forum, when the house lights are still up to include the audience as if they are at the meeting, too.
As a result, many critics and audience members alike thought the protest may have been a scripted part of the production, especially because the actors decided to stay in character throughout. As it became clear that the disruption was not a part of the play, however, the audience turned on the activists, booing them.
From an artistic perspective, it was highly effective at proving the play’s point, as a few critics have noted. Not wanting to be inconvenienced, the audience turned against those warning about the environment, despite ostensibly agreeing with the play’s message to not choose convenience over warnings about the environment. Were it scripted, it would be powerful.
It wasn’t scripted, though, at least not as theatre. Instead of moving people, it alienated people, not just those in the audience that night, but also those who heard about the protest and questioned—even directly criticized—the decision to demonstrate during a play that is in many ways itself a protest.
Of course, some have responded to those criticisms by arguing that activism needs to be inconvenient to be effective. Warnings are useless if no one hears them. And anyway, why are we judging the methods of those fighting for a righteous cause? After all, their cause is righteous.
Fair points. But it’s also true that some forms of activism are more effective than others. And I think it’s worth taking the time to examine this form, which Extinction Rebellion is known for.
The notably decentralized organization began in 2018 in the UK, but quickly skyrocketed to a global reach with a strategy of larger-scale, attention-grabbing and, yes, publicly disruptive protests. The strategy helped them grow, and launched a wave of similarly disruptive climate protests by other groups.
It also made them unpopular among the broader public. It’s a problem known as the “activist’s dilemma”: extreme protest actions have some benefits, but they are also likely to undermine popular support for the movement. Extinction Rebellion knows about this dilemma, or at least some of them do. The UK arm of the group actually ceased publicly disruptive protests at the end of 2022.
Obviously, though, the protests haven’t stopped. If anything, 2023 saw more disruptive protests over climate change than ever before, even as it remains difficult to see what exactly these protests accomplish.
I think that last part speaks to a broader issue that is specific to climate change: Much as it is nearly impossible to see with our own eyes the slow degradation of the environment, it is also nearly impossible to see what progress is being made to tackle it.
Sure, we can share data about the accelerating green transition—which, to be clear, still isn’t coming fast enough—but there’s no tangibility to it.
Disruption and inconvenience, on the other hand, have a noticeable effect. The activists who take part can see the attention it gets in such short time.
I’m still skeptical of the substantive impact of the protest during An Enemy of the People. But perhaps it is necessary, at least for the activists themselves, to see some immediate impact in order to sustain the movement. In that case, I can’t be too judgmental. After all, it is a righteous cause.
What Else I’m Following
This nifty interactive map that shows what parts of the world rely on different kinds of energy.
This article about the backlash to French-Malian singer Aya Nakamura potentially performing at Paris 2024’s opening ceremony, despite being France’s most popular singer.
And this piece about the stereotypical depiction of female journalists by Hollywood, a problem not exactly solved by Max’s new show Girls on the Bus.
Beyonce’s new country album, which comes out Friday.
A canceled soccer match between North Korea and Japan that was supposed to be the first international sporting event held in North Korea since the country sealed its borders at the start of the pandemic.
March Madness, obviously. (And Caitlin Clark, obviously.)
Remi Wolf’s new single:
That’s all for this edition of Cansler Culture.
Also, I’m putting an official call for someone to fill in as a guest columnist on April 22 while I’m on vacation. I cannot pay you but I will buy you a drink.