Last month I participated in a flash mob. This sounds somewhat risqué, but it really wasn’t.
To support World Environment Day, hundreds of people gathered in Wellington to join in the Big Freeze. Some bloke played a saxophone and we all stood motionless for five minutes, until at the signal (another blast on the saxophone) we all melted back to life and went on our merry little way.
It was harmless, it was fun and it felt strangely subversive. It is performance art with a political connotation, with random strangers coming together for a common purpose, to make a point.
As bemused people, not in the know, scurried past us on the streets I heard several ask what was going on. I have never been part of the ‘it’ crowd – not thin enough; pretty enough; bitchy enough at school – but this really felt like I was part of something – a subset of society who cared enough about something to do something.
Actions that flash mobs undertake aren’t particularly extreme – they don’t scale buildings, block traffic, or attempt to board ships. Their deeds are simple; they may be pillow fights, silently head banging, wearing a particular colour, or doing literally nothing. Organised through text message and emails or Internet postings, it brings a virtual community to a real space.
It’s something that ordinary people of all ages do – not just the young trendy hippies. You don’t have to pontificate or make yourself more important than your cause. You don’t even talk about it – you just do it and then go, taking five minutes out of your life to contribute to something greater than the individual.
It feels semi-anarchic, but with some direction. It is an ad hoc activity beyond the reach of the gigantic corporate and governmental powers that dominate life. It makes you feel like part of a community again – something that is lacking from society these days. It feels good. Does it do any good? It would be nice to think so, but I don’t think it’s going to change the world. Anyway, who cares; it doesn’t do any harm.
To support World Environment Day, hundreds of people gathered in Wellington to join in the Big Freeze. Some bloke played a saxophone and we all stood motionless for five minutes, until at the signal (another blast on the saxophone) we all melted back to life and went on our merry little way.
It was harmless, it was fun and it felt strangely subversive. It is performance art with a political connotation, with random strangers coming together for a common purpose, to make a point.
As bemused people, not in the know, scurried past us on the streets I heard several ask what was going on. I have never been part of the ‘it’ crowd – not thin enough; pretty enough; bitchy enough at school – but this really felt like I was part of something – a subset of society who cared enough about something to do something.
Actions that flash mobs undertake aren’t particularly extreme – they don’t scale buildings, block traffic, or attempt to board ships. Their deeds are simple; they may be pillow fights, silently head banging, wearing a particular colour, or doing literally nothing. Organised through text message and emails or Internet postings, it brings a virtual community to a real space.
It’s something that ordinary people of all ages do – not just the young trendy hippies. You don’t have to pontificate or make yourself more important than your cause. You don’t even talk about it – you just do it and then go, taking five minutes out of your life to contribute to something greater than the individual.
It feels semi-anarchic, but with some direction. It is an ad hoc activity beyond the reach of the gigantic corporate and governmental powers that dominate life. It makes you feel like part of a community again – something that is lacking from society these days. It feels good. Does it do any good? It would be nice to think so, but I don’t think it’s going to change the world. Anyway, who cares; it doesn’t do any harm.
