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CALL THEM WHAT YOU WILL, BUT BEFORE THE MEDIA, POLITICIANS AND CELEBRITIES STARTED SHOUTING “SAVE THE WORLD!” ‘90S ENVIRONMENTALISM WAS MADE UP OF ORDINARY PEOPLE WHO KNEW WHAT THEY WANTED AND WENT ABOUT IT IN THEIR OWN WAY. SHUK-WAH CHUNG LOOKS BACK AT THREE ENVIRONMENTAL ACTIVIST MOVEMENTS THAT CAUSED AN INTERNATIONAL FRENZY
It’s just a normal Saturday in the city. High-rise buildings shadow over footpaths, advertising billboards glare and people are out for some leisurely weekend shopping. But wait… there’s something missing. Then as you cross the major road without looking left and right you realise there’s no traffic. Congratulations! You have entered Reclaim the Streets (RTS).
Beginning in London in 1993, RTS was about taking back the space dominated by corporate culture – shopping complexes, business parks, condensed apartments – and making it publicly and collectively available. It became one of the fastest international political movements, held in cities all over Europe, North America, Africa and Australia. And what better way to do it than by erecting a spontaneous and free street party!
Dan Conway, one of the organisers of the Sydney RTS, recalls the first one in 1997 as one of the most empowering and glorious moments of his life. “I remember turning up at Enmore Park [Newtown, Sydney]… with a couple hundred of other people,” Conway says. “Then all of a sudden we just took to the streets. And I remember [feeling] this is real. This is people taking control of their own lives and doing something that’s revolutionary, positive and just joyful!“
Part anarchic, part environmental and completely illegal, RTS used theatre, art, music and dancing to protest against the issues of global warming, the car symbolising our increasing pollution levels and the destruction of homes and land to create major highways. With the secret location only known to a handful of organisers, proceedings would begin with participants meeting at a designated location and then progressed onto the major roads to begin ‘reclaiming the street’. By mounting a huge tripod in the middle of the road, and having a lone activist stand on top of it, the traffic would be blocked, banners saying ‘Breathe’ and ‘Car Free’ were erected and the sound system would start pumping.
Its edgy and radical practices politicised rave culture and formed alliances with different sub-cultures and political groups, both locally and worldwide. And on May 16 1998 – the same day as the G8 in Birmingham, England – an international RTS party was held. “We had a huge scaffolding tower, a huge sound system and a stone cutter was doing sculptures in the middle of the street,” Conway says of the international RTS in Glebe, Sydney. “A crew of people brought out four computers and somehow had them rigged up to a local Internet café – cause this was before the days of Wi-Fi – and they had ‘see you/see me’ connections to other street parties. So we could see in other time zones the beginning of one in San Francisco or Tokyo… and activists were getting online and chatting all over the world!”
However, with all of their peaceful and creative intentions RTS organisers had a hard time emphasising their activities were non-violent direct action. Police presence often dogged rallies. Greens MP Ian Cohen remembers being at an RTS in Bexley North, Sydney. “I ended up getting the job of police liaison and I [felt] like I was able to stop the police from moving in and making arrests,” Cohen says. “In the end the participants were able to have their several hours of action. That type of action without arrest is the way to go.”
The nature of RTS action changed after the events of 9/11. But for all the fun and spontaneous methods it used to address environmental issues it was an enlightening period that encouraged youth involvement. “In terms of activism RTS is a footnote in history,” Conway says. “It’s a very interesting one and a kind of cool one. I think in 50 years time it’s going to be seen as… ’well, they were right’.”
Ask anyone 10 years ago if they’d consider riding a bike to work and you’d be likely to be scoffed at for suggesting such an old fashioned idea. That was the reaction Simon Rumble received back in the ‘90s. “Back in the day people were quite surprised that I rode a bike cause there was a perception that it was a really dangerous activity.”
Rumble was part of Critical Mass (CM), an event that originated in San Francisco in 1992 and still continues today. They’re like Hells Angels on bicycles but without all the criminal activity. Each month, cyclists reaching from the tens to the thousands get together and ride through the city streets to assert their right to the road. Their structure is leaderless, spontaneous and informal and there is no central organisation, spokesperson or strict rules. Some might argue that this type of structure is disorganised and disruptive and certainly their media image was portrayed as such.
“I got somewhat disillusioned with dealing with the media cause there was just so much one dimensional reporting of it,” Rumble says. “You’d talk to the shock jocks and you’d start to make your point and they’d just talk over you.”
Now that the benefits of bike riding is garnering more support – just by driving 10 kilometres to work each day contributes 1.3 tonnes of greenhouse gases to our atmosphere each year – ex-CM members have used it as a catalyst to create other bike advocacy groups.
Fiona Campbell got involved in 1998 and since then has established the Bike Bus. Promoting sociability and comfort, the Bike Bus is a group of people who cycle together and just like a bus, they pick up other cyclists for their journey through the city from home to work. It’s ideal for cyclists who aren’t confident about riding during peak hour whilst feeling healthy and refreshed and doing their part to help the environment. For Campbell her experience with CM helped her realise the issues that cyclists and potential cyclists face.
“[Critical Mass] certainly helped by introducing me to other people who were also active and discuss[ing] what could be done and what should be done,” Campbell says. “So I guess my advocacy grew out of my general need for improvement but more specifically from the conversations I had.”
While the Bike Bus is currently only available in Sydney, Campbell is in discussion about expanding it to other states. Go to http://bikebus.org.au/ for more info. To find out about Critical Mass events in your city go to http://www.criticalmass.org.au/
Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory is a stunningly beautiful part of Australia. Lush waterfalls cascade into one of the four river systems, wildlife and rare plant species abound the vast landscape and pre-historic Aboriginal rock paintings still remain. Great place for a uranium mine don’t you think?
Thankfully not, but for a park that’s listed on the UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation) World Heritage Site the threat of a uranium mine was very real. Thanks to strong opposition by people both here and overseas the Jabiluka Uranium Mine can be ticked off as one of the most successful environmental campaigns in the ‘90s.
When Energy Resources of Australia (ERA) – a subsidiary of Rio Tinto, one of the world’s largest mining companies – began construction in 1998, anti-nuclear campaigners and local residents pounced on every given moment to stop the mine. Not only was it a threat to the natural wilderness and a nuclear pollutant concern, it was also the place of the Mirrar Indigenous people who own the land. The government and ERA argued that it would create jobs and could earn up to $2.5 billion in export earnings. They even suggested an estimated $140 million in royalties for the local Aborigines.
Dave Sweeney, nuclear campaigner for the Australian Conservation Foundation remembers the consensus surrounding the campaign. “For a long time a lot of people had said that there was no way possible that this issue could be stopped. A lot of people said to Green groups and to the Mirrar that this mine was going to go ahead and that nothing ever stops mining companies getting their way.”
But despite the odds the activists persisted. With Australia holding the largest uranium reserves in the world, the idea of another mine brought strong opposition by two thirds of the Australian public. ‘Stop Jabiluka’ offices were set up in each of the major cities and blockading continued for eight months straight. With intense pressure mounting, Rio Tinto announced that the mining would not go ahead and in 2003 rehabilitation began. In 2005, the Jabiluka Long-Term Care and Maintenance Agreement gave the traditional owners veto rights over future development of Jabiluka.
However, the Jabiluka issue is not completely over. Sweeney likens it to a Central European vampire. “The villagers have identified it and have half killed it but it hasn’t got the stake in the heart. The mining leads are still there, the mining companies are still there and they want to mine Jabiluka.”

Tracking down people who were environmental activists during the ‘90s was like searching for an old school friend. Many of them had moved on and some even refused to talk to me, acting like traumatised soldiers who prefer to fight the injustices of the world quietly. But without the spontaneous events of RTS, or the mass enthusiasm of cyclists taking charge of the road, or the grass roots ‘Stop Jabiluka’ campaign, this form of DIY activism would not have unified communities in fighting for the greater good. While events and circumstances change, one thing remains, that’s YOU! dear reader. It is up to all of us, every single one of us to help move our society into a more sustainable future. That way, if in another ten years, a pesky journalist wants to ask what you did for the environment in the noughties, sit back, smile and say, “Well it all started with… ”

WORDS Shuk-Wah Chung
PHOTOGRAPHY AAP

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