My research explores the way in which protest groups bridge the gap between their own familiar but marginal spheres and the inevitably more hostile ‘mainstream’. It argues that organisational differences have always underpinned the relationship between the radical left and the political ‘mainstream’ and are central to the success or failure of their campaigns. It extends Chris Atton and John Downing’s work on alternative media by developing a detailed analysis of these movements’ relationship with ‘mainstream’ media and examines the interface between the chaotic ‘smooth’ spaces of anti-globalisation activists and the regimented ‘striated’ space of professional journalists, the police and politicians (Deleuze and Guattari, 2004). It uses two Brighton based anti-war movements to illustrate these arguments. This paper will explore the ways in which interactions with the wider public invariably expose frictions between activists advocating dialogue with a ‘mainstream’ ripe for conversion and activists fearful of the corrupting influence of corporate culture. It will then examine the ways in which these difficulties have been compounded by activists’ more recent occupation of virtual subaltern spheres. Finally it will analyse the way in which despite these problems the internet can help socialist anarchist organisations overcome the mainstream’s tendency to associate them with ‘a love of disorder and creating chaos (Downing, 2003, p.245)’.

In an article focused on the Independent Media Centre, John Downing argues that in the light of the recent resurgence in anarchist pressure groups ‘it makes sense to look again at what may be found in the socialist anarchist tradition, largely eclipsed in the twentieth century by communism and social democracy’ (2003, p.245). Brighton Peace activists consider Smash EDO to be an ‘anarchist/autonomist’ organisation (McGrogan, personal email, 2007). Unlike Soviet-inspired organisations such as the Socialist Workers Party which may be radical in intention but are traditionally striated in form, anarchist organisations seem to find communicating with a hierarchical ‘mainstream’ inherently problematic. This situation is exacerbated by the fact that conventional organisations frequently interpret these organisations’ reluctance to adopt social roles such as ‘leader’ or ‘spokesperson’ as being wilfully abstruse at best and downright hostile at worst.

Before going on to explore the issues raised by Smash EDO’s protest strategies it may be helpful to pause for a moment in order to establish a clearer understanding of the key organisation involved in this debate. EDO is the British arm of a US-based arms multinational which produces the release mechanisms of the Paveway bomb system. Smash EDO is an anarchist-based pressure group which has been campaigning since 2004 to close the factory down. Its activities were initially directed entirely towards the workers and management of EDO (unnamed activist, personal interview, 2005) and as a result protesters engaged in a series of onsite direct actions. These range from largely symbolic actions such as weekly noise demos outside the factory to occasional demonstrative events such as a ‘horrors of war’ exhibition and a ‘Blix blok’ weapons ‘inspection’ of the factory. However they also organise far more forceful actions such as roof-top protests, blockades, lock-ins and industrial sabotage. As a result of these more confrontational actions, Smash EDO’s relations with EDO and the police have become increasingly strained.

These tensions came to a head in the summer and winter of 2005. On August 11th Smash EDO orchestrated a mock weapons inspection of the factory site. Protesters dressed in white boiler suits and dust masks congregated at the factory gates and refused to leave when requested. Consequently four activists were arrested under section 14 of the Public Order Act. As a result of the demonstration EDO’s managing director brought a civil injunction against Smash EDO. This injunction was eventually rejected by the courts (February 2006) but in the interim period the police adopted a particularly rigorous policing strategy which resulted in a number of violent arrests. Moreover protesters believed that the police were deliberately arresting and re-arresting certain individuals in an attempt to decapitate the – theoretically leaderless – organisation. As a result Smash EDO decided to refocus its campaign by moving their protests away from the factory site into the city centre where ‘there are lots of people watching who can see how the police behave’ (Andrew Becket The Argus, 10/06/05). However, as protesters still refused to engage in any of the usual pre-demonstration collaborations with the police, the first few city centre demos were – like the onsite demos – very heavily policed.

Despite these tensions, the decision to occupy space where ‘state activities would be subject to critical scrutiny and the forces of public opinion’ (Fraser, 1998, p.58) eventually paid off. Thus while the police – and to a lesser extent The Argus – attempted to impose a chaos and disorder frame by arguing that ‘the protesters’ agenda was not about lawful protest for … [but] about bringing disruption and inconvenience to the city’ (Superintendent Moore, the Argus, 15/08/05) it quickly became apparent that this interpretation was at odds with events as witnesses by the public on the ground. As a result the conflict between protesters and the police quickly became the focus of an increasingly supportive public debate. This debate began on the Smash EDO website move through the alternative newswire Indymedia and the Argus’ online discussion forum before eventually emerging on the Argus’ letters page. Indeed public support for the protesters was such that by the summer of 2007 the Argus reported that a coalition of anti-war groups had marched peacefully through Brighton’s city centre without the consent or the ‘guidance’ of the police (‘Marchers fight for their right to demonstrate’ the Argus, 19/03/07).

Theoretical tensions

In her article Re-thinking the public sphere; a contribution to the critique of actual existing democracy Fraser rejects Habermas’ notion of a single, reason-based public sphere in favour of a multiplicity of themed spheres standing in a contested relation to one and other. I am particularly interested in Fraser’s notion of the subaltern spheres which she describes as ‘parallel discursive arenas where members of subordinated social groups invent and circulate counter discourses’ (1998, p.67). Fraser goes on to argue that the subaltern spheres have two functions. Firstly ‘they function as spaces for withdrawal and regroupment’ which enable countercultural groups to ‘formulate oppositional interpretations of their identities, interests and needs’ (1998, p.28). Fraser illustrates this point by describing the ways in which the American women’s movement created a network of subaltern spaces in the 1970’s. Secondly subaltern spheres ‘function as bases and training grounds for agitational activities directed towards wider publics’ (1998, p.68). Thus Fraser argues that the discourses formulated within feminist subaltern spheres went onto influence and alter the debates surrounding issues such as spousal abuse and date rape in the ‘official’ public sphere. These are ideas which can usefully be applied to other counter cultural groups such as Smash EDO.

In order to analyse the relationship between official and subaltern spheres in more detail I will also be employing Deleuze and Guattari’s notions of striated and smooth space. In A Thousand Plateaus Deleuze and Guattari use these terms to identify two different types of space. They argue that ‘in striated space, lines or trajectories tend to be subordinated to points: one goes from one point to another’ whilst ‘in Smooth space it’s the opposite: the points are subordinated to the trajectory’ (1987, p.528). They maintain that both striated and smooth spaces are characterised by multiplicity. However, whereas in striated spaces these multiplicities are ranked and organised as a series of fixed or static points, in smooth space they manifest themselves as interconnected lines or links which stand in a fore grounded and perpetually shifting relation with one another. Thus in striated space, movement or trajectory is ‘subordinated to the sequence of logically interconnected points’ whereas smooth spaces are ‘defined dynamically in terms of transformation rather than essence’ (Moulthrop, 1994, p.303).

Deleuze and Guattari go on to argue that striated or arborescent systems ‘embody the principles of organisation found in modern bureaucracies, armies and schools, in other words, in all the central mechanisms of power’ (2004, p,19). Smooth spaces on the other hand are governed by far more rhizomatic systems such as those found on internet websites (Moulthrop, 1994). This understanding is particularly useful when one considers the ways in which both smooth spaces and internet communications ‘run from any neighbour to any other, the stems or channels do not pre exist and all individuals are interchangeable, defined only by their state at any given moment – such that the local operations are coordinated and the final global result synchronised without a central agency’ (2004, p.19). I would argue that organisations from a socialist anarchist tradition can also be conceptualised in this way. Thus groups such as Smash EDO tend to be small ‘a-centred, non-hierarchical’ (2004, p.23) clusters which are fluid and free enough to withstand the torturous process of collective decision making.

However Deleuze and Guattari go on to argue that the notion of striated and smooth spaces creates a dualism which ‘‘we have no wish to construct but through which we must pass’ in order to arrive at a more nuanced concept of space in which ‘there are knots of arborescence in rhizomes, and rhizomatic offshoots in roots’ (2004, p.22). This conceptualisation of space is helpful in that it goes beyond the binary opposition of categories such as ‘hierarchical’ and ‘non-hierarchical’,’ vertical’ and ‘horizontal’ and offers a more sophisticated understanding of the way in which predominantly striated and organisations such as the mainstream media and the police function in relation to predominantly smooth organisations such as the independent Media Centre and Smash EDO.

Organisational Tensions

Smash EDO is part of a protest culture which tends to be a ‘youth-centred and directed cluster of interests and practices’ (McKay, 1998, p.2). These counter-cultural clusters frequently define themselves in direct opposition to the interests and practices of the mainstream and therefore have a tendency to become ‘a clique because there seems to be a certain style which one must confirm to’ (McKay, 1998, p.26). Thus, for example, the most active and admired activists within Smash EDO belong to a sub-cultural tradition which emphasise tax and benefit refusal, squatting and sustainable living. Within this context the act of squatting is not just about claiming a living spaces, it is also about creating ‘action spaces’ (McKay) which physically embody a political position beyond the mainstream. Smash EDO’s decision to withdraw both literally and metaphorically from the mainstream creates clearly demarcated spatial, political and cultural boundaries which are entirely compatible with the notion of the subaltern sphere as a space for withdrawal and regroupment in which oppositional ‘identities, interests and needs’ can be formulated ( Fraser, 1998, p.69).

However, the anarchist tendency to deliberately inhabit spaces explicitly separated from the mainstream is more problematic when one begins to consider the ability of subaltern public spheres to function as ‘bases and training grounds for agitational activities directed towards wider publics’ (1998, p.69). It is helpful here to draw upon Sarah Thornton’s work on rave culture. In her analysis Thornton maintains that the movement of ‘previously subversive signs’ (1994, p.180) from the sub-cultural margins to the mediated mainstream is frequently perceived as a form of cultural betrayal. According to this view the cardinal cultural sin of ‘selling out’ actually means ‘selling to outsiders’ (Thornton, 1994, p.180). Thus the desire to influence wider publics politically can sometimes be complicated by a reluctance to engage with the mainstream. I would argue that this ambivalence frequently frustrates the ability of socialist anarchist subaltern spheres to successfully promote their politics as the need to communicate with wider public is frequently complicated by a desire to maintain the boundaries which separate them from what they perceive to be a commercially mediated and essentially inauthentic mainstream.

Moreover similar tension can be identified in activists’ use of the internet as a political means of communication. The Internet has undoubtedly played an increasingly important role in the organisation of anarchist-based political protests. Evidence for this can be found in the many first person activist accounts to be found both in print (see Sarah Berger’s article ‘From Aldermaston Marcher to internet activist’ in Global Media, Global Activism) and online (see George Monbiot’s ‘An activists guide to exploiting the media’). As a result, some academics have argued that the internet allows ‘global activists’ to ‘communicate with each other under the mass media radar’ as well as enabling them to ‘get their message into mass media channels’ (Bennett 2003, p.18). According to this view, this would enable the internet to fulfil the dual functions assigned to subaltern public spheres by Nancy Fraser whereby ‘on the one hand, they function as spaces for withdrawal and regroupment: on the other hand they function as bases and training grounds for agitational activities directed towards wider publics (1998, p.68)’. However I would argue that this position fails to fully recognise the important and contradictory tension which exists between these two functions.

I would argue that these tensions are exacerbated by activists’ occupation of internet based subaltern spheres. This is a view point that can be best illustrated by briefly analysing the use of archives on alternative newswires such as those used by socialist anarchist organisations such as the Independent Media Centre. While the internet has been categorised as a smooth communication form I would argue that archives are an essentially striated system. Downing argues that’ having a non-sectarian open archive that can be accessed easily, retaining arguments over time in the language of the time about how to organise contestation and media activism, represents a vital step forward’ (2003, p.252). There is an important element of truth to this assertion. Open archives undoubtedly contribute to the Independent Media Centre’s ability to function as a space in which activists can equip themselves with the communication tools to engage the mainstream. Moreover the advent of digital archives has the potential to compensate for the grassroots tendency identified by George McKay to privilege ‘a culture of immediacy’ at the expense of history and theory (1998, p.19).

As Downing points out there is a surprisingly complex ‘dialectic between freedom and organised action in anarchist practice’ (2003, p. 2547). Moreover I would argue that the creation of transparent and universally accessible spaces has the potential to be problematic. Thus while the introduction of striated archival systems are clearly beneficial in many ways, they also tend to still the fluidity and flux of otherwise smooth spaces. This tendency is problematic in so far as it grants outsiders an entry point into a previously smooth and inaccessible activist space. In other words it removes protest discourses from the realm of ‘dusty back numbers’, ‘forgotten publications’ and ‘oral interviews with aged political veterans’ (2003, p.252) and places them within a transparent, centrally mechanised framework in which their multiplicities are ranked or organised as a series of fixed or static points. As a result I would argue that the ability of the internet to provide private spaces in which countercultural discourses can be formulated and discussed is seriously compromised.

Communications within the Subaltern Sphere

The problematic dialectic between the desire for accessibility and the need for privacy within subaltern spheres can be explored in more detail by examining the online and offline debates prompted by Smash EDO’s strategy of non-engagement with the police. The discussions which led up to the first two city based demonstrations were initiated in geographically bounded subaltern spheres; in face-to-face meetings between known activist in traditionally subaltern venues such as the Cowley Club, Friends’ Meeting House and the Arts Centre on Ship Street. Smash EDO’s preference for this type of meeting stems from a long anarchist tradition designed to build ‘a basis of trust and mutual support’ around actions (Hollingsworth, 1986, 295). Such exclusive face to face meetings are particularly important as they enable activists to discuss possibly incriminating strategies whilst also controlling the flow of potentially damaging information. In this way geographically bounded subaltern spheres enable activists to ‘undertake communicative processes that were not, as it were, under the supervision of dominant groups’ (Fraser, 1998, p.66).

The implications raised by what McKay describes as the ‘cagey’ (1998, p.9) attitude of many protest groups can be further illustrated by examining the ways in which protesters communicate both within and beyond the subaltern sphere. In the summer of 2005 as Smash EDO performed a ‘citizen’s weapons inspection’ three of the more ‘committed’ activists were arrested. Interestingly the arrested activist’s ire was directed not at the police, who arrested them, nor at the journalists who misrepresented them, but at the distinctly un-cagey activists who had chatted to the police during the demonstration. Thus, despite articulating a strategically striated and reasonable argument in favour of engaging with the police and not getting arrested1 these activists were perceived as being somehow less ‘committed’ to the cause and therefore subjected to very high levels of subaltern disapproval for infringing the unofficial embargo on inter-sphere communications.

The hostility directed towards activists who interacted with the police can be explained by turning to Szersynski’s work on direct action within the environmental movement. Szerszynski points out that the demonstrative actions of protesters invite us ‘to understand their signs, gestures, as in some way extensions of their personal beings’ (1999, p.193). According to this view a willingness to be arrested demonstrates the ‘authenticity…commitment… [the] rooted realness of action’ (McKay, 1998, p.32) upon which protest culture is predicated. As a result, individual transgression of these values can be read as a dubious, inauthentic and a potentially contaminating weakness which devalues the ‘sub-cultural credibility’ (Doherty, 2000, p.71) of the group as a whole. According to this view it becomes necessary to protect smooth subaltern spaces from the corrupting influence of the striated practices advocated by ‘fluffy’, mainstream activists.

The perceived need to physically demarcate the subaltern sphere from the official public sphere can be further highlighted by analysing the debates which immediately followed the Blix blok inspection. The debate begins with one of the arrested activists forcefully maintaining that ‘on good demonstrations, the police are made to feel unwelcome and are made to go and stand away from protesters’ (Jaya, www.indymedia.org.uk, 11/08/05). However, when an activist questions the validity of this strategy s/he is quickly turned upon by other members of the group who suggest that s/he ‘examine some of the secrets of your soul and see where that leads you’ (Taff, www.indymedia.org.uk, 11/08/05). These comments suggest that subaltern spheres are as effectively policed from the inside as they are from the outside. Thus whilst protest groups such as Smash EDO may be characterised as inclusively smooth spaces on the inside they, like other spheres, are also demarcated by exclusions and are therefore bounded by explicitly striated boarders.

Tensions between activists are further exacerbated by the fact that the reassurances inherent to face-to-face communications are inevitably lost in a virtual realm. Thus Jaya’s comments are quickly followed by a discussion as to whether the site is a ‘safe’ place to have a ‘private’ discussion with ‘Baa-baa Black Sheep’ maintaining that ‘a public forum like this, accessible to all is not the place to do it…publishing this kind of internal conflict only strengthens the enemy and also gives them information they can use against us’ (www.indymedia.org.uk, 11/08/05). This comment presumes that the site is being monitored by hostile forces and illustrates the way in which participants of virtual bounded subaltern spheres – as opposed to geographically bounded subaltern sphere – are essentially unknowable and therefore un-trustable. As a result despite its many logistical advantages, the virtual subaltern sphere is invariably perceived by activists as an unsafe and survielled place.

This can be illustrated by briefly analysing an incident which took place on the Indymedia website in December 2005. A Smash EDO activist posted an email she had received from community police officer Sean McDonald regarding the groups’ refusal to discuss possible demonstration routes. This email was widely ridiculed as ‘bizarre’ and ‘unrealistic’ by activists (‘Additions; march summary’, ‘police try to ‘negotiate EDO march’ http:www.indymedia.org.uk). However, humour turned to anger when PC McDonald confirmed activists’ fears that the site was being monitored by attempting to engage in the debate. It became quite clear that activists did not welcome a police officer’s occupation of ‘their’ site and McDonald was promptly and vigorously flamed off the site. Thus one could argue that the virtual subaltern sphere like the actual official sphere employs ridicule and vilification to police its ‘private dinner party’ boundaries (Hollingsworth, 1986, 288).

As the example above demonstrates, activists’ fears cannot be dismissed as simple paranoia. A recent inquiry found that post September 11th the on and offline activities of anti-globalisation protesters have routinely been monitored by American intelligence services (the Guardian, 6th March, 2007). Similarly, Smash EDO has allegedly been infiltrated at various times and in various ways by politically hostile organisations (Dagostino, personal interview, 2006). It is therefore hardly surprising that activists attempt to police the borders of both their geographical and virtual subaltern spheres. However, these practices inevitably challenge the notion of smooth spaces such as those created by the internet and socialist anarchist organisations as being open and inclusive sites of political communication. Moreover I would argue that the uncompromising attitude of key Smash EDO activists is particularly problematic for an organisation with promotional aspirations as it precludes intermediate spaces in which smooth and striated ways of thinking can overlap allowing political newcomers to acclimatise to ‘ways of thinking differently’ (Foucault cited in Patton, 2000,p.25)

Communications beyond the Subaltern Sphere

Most pressure groups inevitably have to direct at least some of their activities towards the ‘official’ public sphere. Mass demonstrations are a traditional route for ideas to pass from the margins to the mainstream. Moreover unlike demonstrative events this form of protest explicitly requires information to pass from the subaltern to the official public sphere. On occasions some information may be temporarily withheld from the mass of protesters. For example, the tactical decision to break the J18 Carnival against Capitalism into four colour-coded mini demonstrations was confined to an inner elite until seconds before the split. Reclaim the Streets justified this non egalitarian spread of information by pointing out that an element of surprise was central to the success of the plan. Despite such exceptions, protesters usually need protest information to be as public as possible in order to ensure that less committed activists, political day trippers and the passing public attend.


Information about upcoming demonstrations usually relies on what could be described as subaltern forms of political communication such as flyers, stickers and graffiti. These communication forms tend to be transient, selective and lifestyle-dependent. As a result their ability to communicate with non activists is in many ways defined by what that person looks like (smartly dressed people with briefcases or small children seldom receive flyers) and where they walk (you’re unlikely to see political stickers or graffiti in your local shopping centre). In this way subaltern communication forms can be seen to be rooted in counter-cultural practices ‘that have no readable identity’ and ‘proliferate; without points where one can take hold of them, without rational transparency’ and therefore become impossible to administer (De Certeau, 1988, p.95).

The Internet might also be seen as an appropriate subaltern sphere but as discussed previously, the notion of the internet as a potentially inclusive and welcoming subaltern space is problematic. Thus, despite the introduction of striated systems such as universally accessible archives, there is a tendency within some activist communities to preserve subaltern boundaries by restricting access to smooth anarchist spaces. Indymedia (South Coast) is clearly a site which does not always welcome the non-activist community. Despite this I would argue that the internet has facilitated more open transitional spaces in which newcomers and other interested parties can gather information and acclimatise to alternative political spaces. Moreover the pressure group websites, which tend to be used as holding spaces for relevant information rather than as discussion forums, have the potential to bridge the gap between smooth subaltern spheres and their more striated and official counterparts.

This assertion can be illustrated by examining pressure groups’ use of virtual press rooms. Somewhat ironically, it could be argued that anarchist media strategies have been deeply and beneficially influenced by the effects of global capitalism. Economic circumstances have encouraged corporate news organisations to move away from costly and time-consuming investigative journalism in favour of reprocessing the slick information packages supplied (with care and for free) by many resource-rich and some resource-poor organisations. The virtual pressroom is therefore particularly attractive to journalists in that it enables journalists to cross the ‘cultural divide’ (Monbiot,  http://tlio.org.uk, 12/10/03) and provides them with a single, reliable and accurate point of contact to an otherwise intangible and sometimes completely inaccessible organisation (Ruiz, 2005). In this way virtual pressrooms, like internet archives, create striated access points into otherwise smooth worlds.

Virtual pressrooms are particularly significant to anarchist protest groups in that they enable them to bypass striated and vertical form of communication and replace them with smoother, more empowering ‘horizontal linkages’ (Downing, 1995. p.241). The Smash EDO press room is particularly interesting because it is occupied by an entirely virtual spokesman called Andrew Becket. Andrew Becket enables Smash EDO activists to remain loyal to key anarchist tenets such as collectivity and anonymity. Thus when ‘outsiders’ such as journalists (or academics!) contact Smash EDO, possible responses are discussed until a satisfactory collective response has been formulated. This response is then passed to journalists or the police via phone or email and thus enters the ‘official’ public sphere (Grietch 2006). The ability to communicate collectively in this way is particularly significant given EDO’s repeated attempts to bring court actions against the ‘leaders’ of Smash EDO. Thus virtual press room allows the organisational contexts of both activists and journalists to temporarily overlap. Moreover it protects subaltern spaces from ‘official’ attempts to impose striated order on purposefully smooth arenas.

In this way, protest groups’ websites enable outsiders to access the rather chaotic and complex world that is DiY politics, while activists are able to assert and maintain some level of control over both their organisational structure and their representation in the mainstream. This is not to maintain that these spaces solve all of the problems commonly associated with the radical left’s attempts to communicate with the mainstream media, but to suggest that these spaces temporarily unfix the meanings usually ascribed to them, thus enabling ‘each interested party’ to attempt ‘to place their discourse onto it’ (Purkis, 2000, 216). In these spaces, contradictory systems can momentarily be caught and made compatible before they become mutually incomprehensible once again. Thus interactions are constantly being created whereby the organisational forms - and by implication the ideological impulses behind those forms - of the radical left are being exposed and hopefully understood by those ‘outside’ them.

Given that local journalists claim to prioritise human contacts over institutional contacts (Dickinson, in interview, 2007) the creation of a virtual spokesman seems to have been particularly inspired. Letters from Andrew Becket appear regularly in the Argus letter pages and his views are routinely included in articles relating to Brighton’s anti-war movement. As a result it would appear that Smash EDO has succeeded in creating a system which accommodates both smooth and striated system and thus meets the strategic needs of both activists and journalists. However the police have refused to engage with the Smash EDO website – or indeed any other forms of subaltern communication – on an institutional level. Thus Brighton and Hove recently bought a case to trial in which they claimed that there was no information regarding an August demonstration available in the public domain. So while subaltern media forms such as flyers, posters, graffiti, stickers and websites are useful to some mainstream organisations they’re still not considered to be valid arenas by all.

This paper has utilised Deleuze and Guattari’s notion of striated and smooth space in order to reflect upon the ways in which subaltern and official spheres interact. In doing so it has extended the work of Chris Atton and John Downing by developing a more flexible and nuanced understanding of the ways in which mainstream and alternative organisations interact. I would like to conclude by suggesting that the internet creates smooth spaces in which the chaotic flux and flow of protest culture can be momentarily stilled and striated. This has both negative and positive consequences. Thus while the possibility of surveillance undoubtedly exacerbates pre-existing tensions within the online activist community it also enables interested outsiders to glimpse a way of living differently. Moreover, as Nancy Fraser points out, the ‘proliferation of subaltern counter-publics means a widening of discursive contestation’ and, regardless of the drawbacks this may entail, that has to be a ‘good thing’ (1998, p.67).


































Bibliography

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Websites

‘Blix blok in Brighton’

 http://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/regions/southcoast/2005/03/307464.html

‘Police try to ‘negotiate’ EDO march’

 http://www.indymedia.or.uk/en/regions/southcoast/2005/12/329002.html

Smash EDO; Press releases

 http://www.smashedo.org.uk/pressreleases.htm


Monbiot, George, ‘An activists’ guide to exploiting the media’

 http://www.tlio.org.uk or  http://www2.phreak.co.uk/tlio//pubs/agm2.html

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 http://archive.theargus.co.uk/2005/12/3/205805.html

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 http://www.archive.theargus.co.uk/2007/19/3

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Dagostino, Lydia – Defence Lawyer (2006)

Dickinson, Andy – Argus Journalist (2007)

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Mcgrogan, Manus – Sussex Action for Peace Activist (2007)

Unnamed activist – Smash EDO Activist (2006)