Civil Disco-bedience: It’s time to dance for your life

It’s been a horrendous summer in Australia. More than 11 million hectares of land burned in bushfires for over 6 months. 1 billion animals perished, the majority of them marsupials found on no other continent. 33 people died and countless others lost their homes. The fires then gave way to devastating floods, arriving to ravage the already damaged homes and land. Ash from the fire grounds washed into the waterways, killing thousands of fish and threatening drinking water. 

Australia is no stranger to natural disasters, but the scale of this recent devastation is unprecedented. The scientific community’s consensus is that we’re witnessing the results of human induced climate change and the climate crisis is accelerating faster than that most expected.  Sadly, Australia is currently governed by a two-party system, both of whom collect massive political donations from coal companies and both of whom are petrified of losing votes in coal mining communities. In the wake of the fires, the Australian government committed to mitigation strategies but nothing more. The poor response, combined with 30 years of climate inaction, led to mass protests around Australia as ordinary Australians took to the streets to demand change.  

Civil Disco-bedience

As an environmental activist and a dancer/choreographer, I had the opportunity to combine two of my passions at Civil Disco-bedience on 11th February. Led by the State Member of Parliament for Newtown, Jenny Leong, this action mirrored other Disco-bedience actions organised by Extinction Rebellion. The idea is simple: dance down the street to Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees dressed in 70s clothing to draw attention to the existential crisis that faces us all. 

A planning meeting with the organisers solidified our aims. We aimed to combat the pervasive feelings of despair and hopelessness, as it’s been traumatising watching Australia burn. We wanted to bring the community together and unite people around the urgent need for climate action, but also heal with joyful movement while injecting humour, smiles and positivity into climate activism.

The history of arts activism is centuries old, and the particular place of dance as a vehicle for change has been well established. The quote “If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution” has been attributed to feminist and anarchist, Emma Goldman. It’s disputed as to whether she actually said it, but the phrase has captured people’s imagination, affirming dance as a form of freedom, subversion and joy. Humans need joy. Like hope, it is an ontological need.  At the very least it reminds of what we’re fighting for. 

Likewise, choreographing and teaching the dance for Disco-bedience was a pedagogy of joy and an immense privilege to be able to unite people through movement. Having choreographed 17 years of floats for Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, countless flashmobs and dozens of arts activism events, I was armed with some knowledge of what works for large crowds. People had to learn the dance on the day (no pre-recorded instructional videos), so I brainstormed by favourite 70s moves and employed my golden rules of crowd choreography. 

  1. Start every move with the right hand 

  2. Use 4 – 6 movements, with an absolute maximum of 8

  3. Golden 4s – repeat each movement 4 times

  4. No cross movements (crossing arms or legs), no turns, no backwards facing movements. 

A final stress test with someone who refuses to dance (that’s usually my partner), a little refinement, a quick training of other dance ‘captains’ in the crowd and we were ready to go. After a half hour of speeches, teaching and dancing, we took to the street, putting the disco into Disco-bedience. 

The organisers and I are no stranger to civil disobedience, but we were all amazed at the incredible discipline of the Disco-bedience crowd. The focus and organisation created by series of choreographed movements to music was something to behold. Without permits or police escorts we were able to get the crowd onto the street to perform and protest, then off again, stopping traffic for a grand total of 4 minutes. One might ask what we achieved with this small action, but it’s worth remembering that radical change is made of a series of subversions that collectively create a movement.

The Impact of Disco-bedience

Afterwards, the mood was euphoric. We had reclaimed the streets, spread our message and injected movement into the movement. Even those who didn’t dance were elated, because this style of participatory engagement in arts activism has the dual effect of releasing the power of the imagination in its audience. Passers-by pulled out their phones to record the spectacle. While the protest aimed to disrupt, a sense of sympathy was activated for the dancers as they demonstrated “the capacity to break with the ordinary, the given, the taken-for-granted and open doors to possibility” (Greene, 2007 p. 1). The protest was hopeful, optimistic and accessible allowing others to imagine the better world that the dancers tried to create. In this way, sparking imagination becomes a revolutionary act. There are revolutionary possibilities in strengthening the muscle of imagination and reclaiming the right to imagine the future. 

Within the dancers themselves, the body became a site for knowing and a site for change. In that moment the sense of hopelessness was lost as art became a mirror able to capture what is so difficult to put into words.

Additional Considerations

Since the action I’ve been pondering if dance is a vehicle for conformity as well as self-expression and subversion. Marching with rhythm and precise movements has been used by armies for centuries. Is there a place for disciplined movement within the rebellion? In a disparate, fragmented world, there is power in moving as one, but what are the limitations? This could be a future topic for research on arts activism and the transformative powers of dance in protest. 

Over summer, I’ve been inspired by the work of countless Australian artists engaging in arts activism for climate action. Standing side by side with scientists, artists aim to spark a critical mass of people into driving change by engaging their aesthetic senses. The transformational powers of the arts must be harnessed if we are to organise ongoing climate action beyond what is in our obvious and immediate world. Climate action must take place beyond mitigation, after the bushfires are out, on cold days as well as hot, and in regions near and far from those we are trying to protect. Through art and imagination, we can travel beyond our own words and reach beyond our boundaries to create the mass movement of humanity that is so desperately required to create change.   

Greene, M. (2007). Imagination and the healing arts. Retrieved from https://maxinegreene.org