A Peaceful Protest

I generally work on the assumption that most of you reading this have something to do with the energy industry, or that you are in my family and I am so catastrophically awful at communications, this is the only way you can see signs of life. The former group is somewhat larger, so let’s stick to that track.

Depending on where in the world you work (and according to Substack stats, y’all are spread across 42 countries and 38 US states…), you may be more or less accustomed to dealing with protestors. Not just any protesters – there are some folk who protest the opening of an envelope if they don’t like who wrote it – but protesters that impact you. Protests that impact the companies, projects and industries into which we all pour our efforts.

Maybe you are somewhere like Houston where protests are rare. Maybe you have passed by many, keeping your head down. Maybe they’re a new thing in your area – these things are spreading like asinine phrases through TikTok.

When I was working in British Columbia, protests specifically against my project followed everywhere we went. I recall clearly attending one energy event at a university campus wearing branded project clothing, to be greeted by a group of about 50 people sporting banners against my project. I smiled, waved, said hi, exchanged a few polite words with a couple - and passed on by.

But they broke in – it turns out students know their way around campus better than security (who would have thought?). They shouted, chanted, banged drums and disrupted everyone trying to speak – with the exception of a First Nations hereditary Chief who provided the introduction and welcome. Whilst Chief Ian Campbell is always worth listening to, his words were lost on them without a hint of irony.

They even shouted down the green energy crowd. I was sat with one of the direct air capture folk, who came off stage looking like he needed a hug. His crime? Seeking to have a commercial product. For an atheistic bunch, they sure believed in the green manalishi.

At the break, they moved us into a gymnasium so the space could be more easily sealed – but the protestors found that too, and we proceeded to the reverberating dull thud of student fists on steel rollup doors.

At the end of the event, walking alone back to my car in an unlit parking lot on a dark Canadian winter night was a nervous experience.

This was in the same era as the Coastal Gas Link night-time attack on a construction workforce. When the serial hypocrite David Suzuki justified blowing up pipelines before issuing a statement of contrition that could be blown over by a butterfly’s wings.

Was I in fear for my life? Not really. Then again, I am nowhere near as effective as Charlie Kirk.

The rhetoric around climate alarmism is that of emergencies, crisis, and existential threats. So-called leaders have been shouting about words being violence – and by inference that violence is an appropriate response. This is being taken literally.

We’ve seen the CEO of the company I work for have her home invaded. In a different industry, we’ve seen a daylight execution of a healthcare boss on the streets of New York. Creating fear is always the purpose.

Words are not, nor have they ever, nor shall they ever be, violence. Violence is never an appropriate and proportional response to words. Violence is violence.

Dissenting from what both sides of politics are saying right now, there is no such thing as hate speech – but there is such a thing as hateful speech. You’re welcome to open your mouth and let your belly rumble (as my dear old mother would say), but you’re not entitled to still have your job or friends at the end of it… as some are finding out.

So, what are we to do? The antidote to fear is courage. We need to find the courage to engage, speak up, speak out. All of us.

Courage is the quality I admire perhaps most. OK, not in the Sir Humphrey Appleby sense, but the times I am most annoyed with myself is when I’ve made an excuse to myself and set courage aside.

So, let’s go back to those protests.

Our corporations advise us not to engage. To stay away. Don’t wear branded gear.

My security colleagues will disagree with me on this, but I like to engage. I later ended up on first name terms with many of the people who turned out to protest that project – because people fear the unfamiliar. The protesters exist in their own echo chambers (as do we…) and often don’t know anyone who works in the industry.

So, risking the ire of our corporations, here’s Andrew’s start-small how-to guide to engaging the line of protestors outside of your office.

- Aim to talk to one person, not a mob.

- “How’s your day going?” (Easy enough)

- “Where have you come from” (followed up with a comment about the place if you know it – we’re trying here to build a connection - or a “wow, that’s a long way!” if they have come far).

- “What brings you out today?” You’ll be surprised by the answers you get; listen and be inquisitive.

- “Nice to meet you, have a great day!”

That’s it. Keep asking questions, and be astonished by how few you get in return. If they ask why you’re there, simply say “Oh, I work here”, make your excuses, and move on.

That’s it. Did I change anyone’s mind? I have absolutely no idea – but that’s not the point.

It’s about establishing a basic connection and letting them know that the people inside the building someone is chained to / has graffitied are not child-eating lizards. Maybe you’ll see the same person next time, maybe you won’t. Maybe there will be another conversation, maybe there won’t… but over time, this is how we start to normalise – and in my experience, leads to the more meaningful conversations.

Extreme views almost always come from a lack of contact with the other side of the argument – it’s easy to demonise that which we do not know - and thus free speech is meaningless if we stand on opposite sides of the street yelling and not listening. Debate is everything in terms of forming views, understanding, sympathy and – hopefully – persuasion.

These are the experiences that caused me to start writing. Free-speech policies are the reason why I choose to publish on Substack. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.

I believe we’d all be much better off with the courage to engage in more direct, respectful dialogue.

Prove me wrong.