Certain

signs
insure
self-discipline.
 2
Resisting
the Bunker

While we may never know how it was discovered that cultural

workers did not have to create and invent solely for the
purpose of maintaining the traditional symbolic order, at
least we can be glad that such an idea occurred at all. Since
the time of this magical and mythical realization, which
occurred approximately two hundred years ago, various
interventions from the most minor to the most extreme
have been attempted. The most successful, of course, spewed
forth from the class that came up with the idea of systematic
intervention (revolution) in the first place—the Bourgeoi-
sie. By the turn of the nineteenth century, this band of
pistol-packing, sweat-shop building, money-hoarding anti-

Originally published in Anarchy: A Journal of Desire Armed, No.43, 1995.

36 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

feudalists were firmly in control. Once the social order

resettled into a configuration that suited this new ruling
elite, its members began developing strategies and tactics to
ensure that such a large-scale intervention would never
happen again. The problem faced by these political upstarts
was to make a defense system that would not be perceived
as a defense system, or in other words, to decide how capital
investment could be fortified without restricting the free
flow of production and consumption. Since that time,
strategies, tactics, and technologies to achieve this end
have been continuously and successfully developed at a
pace that has stymied the competition.

Consider the restructuring of Paris under the strategic care

of von Haussmann. Here a youthful bourgeois society
accomplished its goal, and the demonstration of this ac-
complishment came with the fall of the Paris Commune.
The justification for the Paris face-lift was to create a more
appealing city for tourists, and to prevent Paris from being
ravaged by industrial growth as London had been. The true
meaning of the restructuring became frighteningly appar-
ent, however, when the Communards came to the horrific
realization that once the city’s outer ramparts were breached,
it could not be defended, as their former defense, the
barricade, was no match for artillery-supported heavy in-
fantry on broad boulevards. The development of the Parisian
fortress was particularly impressive since this was the first
application of the idea of opening a space as a means to
fortify it.

Times have certainly changed, but the principle of fortifi-

cation is as deeply engrained in society as ever. In fact, the
social landscape itself is little more than a series of bunkers.
 Resisting the Bunker 37

The oldest form is the bureaucracy, which in bourgeois

society has evolved to its highest form. It is a system of
social organization that mainly functions to perpetuate
itself. In this capacity, it is designed to resist war, revo-
lution, or natural catastrophe. Within its permanent
records is history—the proof of what has happened and
what has not. The bureaucracy is a concrete form of
uninterruptable, official, and legitimized memory.

Newer forms of the bunker have also appeared. Mass

media is certainly the most formidable. The strategies of
the open and closed fortress implode in this enveloping
bunker. While mass media brings its viewer the world,
the world is also held at bay while the viewer commits h/
er gaze to the screen, forever separated from others and
from communal space. In this case, the bunker is both
material and ideational. On one hand, it serves as a
concrete garrison where images (troops) reside. On the
other hand, it confirms state-sponsored reality, by for-
ever solidifying the reified notions of class, race, and
gender. Bunkers in their totality as spectacle colonize
the mind, and construct the micro-bunker of reification,
which in turn is the most difficult of all to penetrate and
destroy.

Bureaucracies, factories, malls, work stations, media—

all are the products of the fortress mentality. The spec-
tacle of these bunkers is designed to give the illusion of
sociability, of public interaction, and of free choice, but
it actually functions to reinforce the separation already
inherent in the division of labor, and to channel the
producer/consumer into a cycle of forced labor and
consumption.
38 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

The bunker is the foundation of homogeneity, and allows

only a singular action within a given situation. For example,
in a mall one may only consume. The mall is a bunker of
perpetual discomfort. There is no place to rest, unless one is
consuming (usually in the food court), and in this situation
only the most uncomfortable of accommodations are pro-
vided so the consumer will hurry, finish, and rejoin the
dynamic flow moving from shop to shop. The mall is the
mirror image of the assembly line where laborers rotate
between specialized actions. Consumption intensification/
labor intensification: It is difficult to tell the difference.
Labor and consumption are the walls of the bunker that is
known as the social world.

While bunker disruption should not be the center of resis-

tant activity, since appearance as a means of domination has
been consistently moved to the margins of power, bunkers,
particularly of the ideational sort, must be kept under siege.
Continual disturbance of these sites is essential in the
never-ending battle to maintain a degree of individual
autonomy. Disrupting the bunker’s symbolic order has long
been a standard technique in contestational cultural action,
and should still have a place in the future of cultural
activism. Over the past century two key models of distur-
bance have emerged. The first is a sedentary model, which
attempts to construct a monumental counterspectacle to
compete with (and hopefully overwhelm) the bunker’s
symbolic order. The second is the nomadic model, which
seeks to undermine the symbolic order with more ephem-
eral, process-oriented methods. At present, the former
method seems dominant, at least as far as the discourse on
cultural resistance is concerned. (In actual practice, it is
difficult to say since the latter model does not call attention
 Resisting the Bunker 39

to itself. Who knows—there may be an army of culture

guerrillas working right now, but there is no way to measure
the phenomenon). From CAE’s perspective, this is an
irritating trend because the sedentary model of cultural
resistance seems to maintain bunker consciousness more
than it undermines it.

The nomadic model and the sedentary model share similar character-
istics beyond their contestational intent. The subtext of all
interventionist representation, whether sedentary or no-
madic, is pedagogy. The hope is that participants and
viewers will engage in a dialogue that will allow them to
break through the ideological boundaries of the bunker, and
in turn gain a greater measure of autonomy (the affirmation
of their own desires and control over their surroundings).
The truly disturbing (by which CAE does not mean “shock-
ing”) work of cultural representation will help each individual
progress toward a more complete subjecthood—s/he will be
able to separate him-herself from the objecthood of the
machine. Beyond this point, however, agreement between
participants in either school becomes less and less common.

Given the points of agreement, which model best accom-

plishes the desired aim of creating knowing subjects through
dialogue and mutual learning? CAE here contends that the
nomadic model is far more efficient in achieving this end.
While we do not want to disparage the good intentions of
those who participate in the sedentary model, we cannot
help but believe that such efforts could be put to better use.

Part of the problem with the sedentary model is that its

methods and aims are poorly articulated. Many varieties of
public, interventionist, and community-based art fall into
40 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

this category. Just what, then, is the object of this model? In

the best of conditions, CAE takes this category to mean the
production of images that are consciously designed to
interact with their general physical and ideational sur-
roundings in a manner that moves the image beyond solely
aesthetic (spatial) considerations and into dynamic socio-
political considerations. (Certainly the old abstract formalist
structures [plop art] built with steel girders and iron slabs
can be written off as loathsome and unworthy of discussion
in the context of resistant images, as can the monuments of
the status quo.) Now one must wonder, given this defini-
tion, how a critical work located in a museum can be
differentiated from one that is located in “public” place,
which is generally where most art using the sedentary
model with interventionist intent is found. In actuality,
there is no difference. Public space does not exist except as
a reification. All art, critical or otherwise, once in the social
realm, exists only in managed, socially stratified space.

Public art does not exist as there is no public space. The

fundamental principle of rational society, as expressed
through the fortress mentality, is to manage every piece of
territory and to bureaucratize every social action. In such a
situation, no one has the right to freely assemble, and no
one has the right to install projects, even on what might be
called “public property” (a contradiction in terms). Legiti-
mized autonomous zones where one can freely express
oneself (politically or otherwise) are long gone, if such
spaces ever existed at all. Where could a public work go? In
a corn field? That is private property. On the street? That
would block the free flow of traffic, thus disrupting the
functional intent of the street. In a park? Well yes, if the
proper permissions are obtained and all the proper paper-
 Resisting the Bunker 41

work is completed and filed. Further, the park is designed

for particular forms of structured leisure, and not as a site for
autonomous experience; therefore any work placed in the
environment must conform to this social structure. The few
that can be trusted—that is, those who have been well
processed by the bureaucracy (usually through training
camps such as art schools), and know how to follow bureau-
cratic procedure (probably the most important way one is
socialized during the education process) can perhaps carry
out an impermanent project. A person who has these
qualifications, plus public recognition (which is to say a
record of bureaucratic acceptance) may be permitted to
install a permanent work, but only if the public (i.e., the
bureaucracy managing the area) thinks such a project is
needed. Consequently, not only is there no public space,
but there are very few members of the public qualified to
do public work. The problem here is that it is too easy to
forget that ownership is not a prerequisite for territorial-
ization. Control of a territory is all that is needed to
colonize it. To return to the introductory riddle: When
is a fortress not a fortress? One answer is: When it is in
the public sphere.

Can the same be said about community-based art? First the

word “community” itself is a problem. It has been used
broadly, reducing it to the point of absolute meaningless-
ness. (Most emblematic of this abuse is the oxymoron “the
international community.”) In the current rhetoric, “com-
munity” seems to mean any aggregate of people who have
one common characteristic. The connotation of commu-
nity is one of sympathy if the speaker is someone outside the
aggregate, or of identification if the speaker is someone that
is a part of the aggregate. Hence terms such as “the gay
42 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

community” or “the African American community” have

become quite common. Generally, a second connotation
seems to follow—that these aggregates are recognized par-
ticipants in the narrative of victimization (this is partly why
there is a connotation of sympathy accompanying this word
when it is said by an outsider. Admittedly, it is better than
the use of “you people.” Such a connotation also explains
why no white male community exists). Finally, community
can also mean a people within a given area, usually a
neighborhood. The boundaries of such “communities” are
often ill-defined, because the ethnographic and geographic
characteristics are blended to suit the bureaucratic occa-
sion. These “communities” often are quite large in terms of
population, too large for any enveloping personal interac-
tion among the people within them. Further, the
institutional affiliations of members residing in a given
territory are extremely complex and varied, thus disrupting
social solidarity based on race-ethnicity or geography.

Regardless of these definitions, a group that shares a com-

mon characteristic and/or a common geography is not a
community, and never has been one. Community
(Gemeinschaft) can only exist in a social order with a
minimal division of labor. Economic and social specializa-
tion under the sign of fetishized hierarchy do not encourage
community construction. Communities proper tend to-
ward the sedentary, with the extended family being the
general base unit which is in turn extended through the
superstructure of friendship. Not only are there enveloping
nonrational bonds (kinship or friendship) between mem-
bers, but there are social norms and values which unify the
community members, and which are consensually vali-
dated through a spiritual solidarity (often expressed as a
 Resisting the Bunker 43

common religion). Every part of social life is shared among

community members, rather than one genetic characteris-
tic, one value preference, or a piece of ground. (Please note
that CAE is not trying to romanticize this form of social
organization by claiming that it is necessarily the most just
or desirable, for it certainly has tremendous potential for
abuse, and historically, it has fulfilled this potential). While
the US may still have some pockets of what could be called
community, such a social phenomenon is extremely lim-
ited. As with public space, it must be asked: What
community!?

In spite of what some artists might say, and in spite of the

fact that “community-based art” is becoming a sanctioned
bureaucratic category, very little work pertaining to “com-
munity” is being done. Most cases are in actuality projects
with localized bureaucracies. No artist can just walk into an
alien territory and become a part of it. To successfully do
such a thing takes years of participatory research. Be that as
it may, assuming that an artist has successfully navigated
the cultural bureaucracy and acquired money for a commu-
nity project (for which an artist generally has one year to
prove h/erself) just how will s/he insinuate h/erself into a
“community?” The easiest way is to have the project medi-
ated by a bureaucracy that claims to represent the
community. A school, a community center, a church, a
clinic, etc., is then selected, often because it is willing to
participate in the project. The bureaucratic experts from
the selected institution will represent the community and
tailor the project to their specifications in a negotiation
that also accounts for the desires of the artist. When the
process is over, who has actually spoken? Since the majority
of the negotiation over policy is not done with individuals
44 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

in the territory, but with those who claim to represent it,

which is again shaped by the bureaucratic parameters
placed on the project by the money donors, how much
direct autonomous action is left? How much dialogue has
taken place? Not much. What is left is the representation
of a representation (the bureaucratic opinion of the artist
and h/is mediators).

There are three problems here. One is that the already

mentioned rationalization of all territories by institutions
geared toward self-perpetuation allows only for the most
minimal public dialogue. The second is that monolithic
social aggregates do not exist in a hyper-complex division
of labor. The left has seen this problem illustrated so many
times. For example, feminism does not speak for all women;
institutionalized feminism does not speak for all feminists.
One bureaucracy cannot speak for a social aggregate, nor
for members of a given densely populated territory.

The final problem is the rationalization of collective expe-

rience. Efficient large scale social activity has to be
bureaucratized. It is the only type of complex social organi-
zation known. In order to achieve efficiency, nonrational
elements are factored out of the organization process. And
yet, it is precisely these elements that can allow for a
fulfilling collective experience. For example, in CAE there
are power relationships, as is to be expected in any social
relationship; however, power in this social constellation
does not take the form of domination. One member defers
to the expertise of another member whose abilities in h/er
area of soft specialization take precedence. Even if one is
rationally unsure of the decision the other is making, a
nonrational trust has developed over the years that lets
 Resisting the Bunker 45

each have faith in the wisdom of the other. The reason that
such a social occurrence transcends alienation is only
because of nonrational elements of affinity, friendship,
faith, and trust. These elements allow the individuals in
CAE to work as a unit in our interactions with each other,
beyond considerations of exchange or contract economy.
This is the type of solidarity and horizontal flow of power
that bureaucracy attempts to eliminate; by contrast, the
cellular social constellation is among the very few collec-
tive experiences where people can actually speak for
themselves, in that their individuality is not lost to the
mechanics of organization.

Artworks which depend on bureaucracy in order to come to

fruition are too well managed to have any contestational
power. In the end they are acts of compliance that only
reaffirm hierarchy and the rational order. No risk is involved
in such work, as it is all done within the confines of the
bureaucracy/bunker. How can such work be considered a
challenge to the dominant social order? In what manner does
it chip away at the bunker? What is most sorrowful is that the
minions who carry out these projects are not liberated; rather,
they become prisoners of the monuments that their labor
produced, as the product of mediation speaks for them.

To be sure, the process that creates public art suffers from

overmanagement, but equally unfortunate is that the prod-
uct suffers from the same fate, for there is no visual object
that better represents monologic tyranny than the monu-
ment. Monuments have been generously sprinkled
throughout “public” property to function as reflective spaces
where individuals can commune with the wonder and
mystery of the state. In these areas, the contestational voice
46 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

is silenced. In these spaces, the whole nation lives as a single

community in total agreement, and all social problems
dissipate. Only the serene voice of the welfare state (a
system concerned only with the benefit of its citizens)
gently whispers in the realm of the monument. For ex-
ample, consider a well-intentioned monument such as
Maya Lin’s Viet Nam Veterans Memorial. This monument
is not as loathsome as most since it is not an outright
ideological imperative; that is, it does not make the particu-
lar the universal as the monument’s realist counterpart
does, nor does it participate in the authority of the vertical.
However, in spite of the good intentions, this site, which
one at the very least would expect to be filled with the anger
of howling screams, is silent, punctuated only by quiet sobs.
(Granted, the area is so secure that if a howler did begin a
counterperformance, s/he would be rapidly escorted away).
This memorial is a place for pathological therapy, where
the rift between citizen and state is healed in a sick moment
of a spectacular reconfiguration of memory.

Can any monument act as a point of contestation? As in the

case of Viet Nam Veterans Memorial, contestation around
monuments can only happen to a limited degree. Commu-
nity murals in which all racial-ethnic groups live and work
together, thesmog has blown away, and kids play in drug-
free parks are to be admired for their utopian intent, and
for their affirmation of difference. They can function as
a message of hope in areas where there is very little. Much
the same can be said of large scale performances in public
areas, which are usually designed as reminders of the nature
of various social problems. However, such works also seem
to have the aura of the “cultural revolution” about them.
They are overcoded and predictable, and thereby blend
 Resisting the Bunker 47

perfectly with the other public images (billboards that

perpetuate the hope of good coffee or clean laundry).
The inherent conservatism in monumentality will not
allow for any kind of disarming counterspectacle. The
result of this medium has always been decided long
before the monument is even constructed. Consequently
it is purely monologic. No one dialogues with a mural
any more than one dialogues with a billboard containing
an advertisement. In the end, monuments, even ones
created with radical intentions, reinforce the status quo
by reinforcing the audiences’ predisposition for visual
ingestion of rigid codes and stereotypes.

Monuments are closed systems which do not allow for a

pedagogy of equality; instead they are a top-down means of
delivering information, and the information delivered is
generally rather corrupt (i.e., an ideological imperative). In
the construction of such public or community work is a
class configuration that follows a top-down pedagogy. At
the top is the artist-director, since s/he is the one who
controls the purse strings. Then come the mediators, and
finally come those who are enlisted in the art campaign. As
mentioned earlier, the base parameters are set by the upper
levels, with the lower levels only having a say in minor
contingencies of the plan. While these projects pretend to
function in the style of localized co-ops, they work in quite
an opposite manner. Grass roots organizations (which
should not be confused with a community) work from the
bottom up in a situation where like-minded people, out of
concern for a specific issue, organize in the spirit of
volunteerism. These behaviors are emergent, and conse-
quently no central figure is needed to guide the situation
or set policy.
48 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

It seems reasonable to conclude that an anti-logos stand as

presented in counterspectacle is not the best way to carry
on cultural resistance. While such methods are not totally
without merit, the categories of production are confused,
relying on false territorialization and monologic
monumentalism. Overall the experience of the sedentary
model of resistant art action is simply too well managed to
offer an individual a moment of liberation. What is con-
structed instead is an alternative or oppositional code
which can be just as restrictive as the one which it replaces.
But an additional problem exists that is particularly discon-
certing to artists: the sign of art seems to get in the way of
radical action. The problem is that art is understood in its
traditional sense rather than in its newer critical sense.
Once an audience outside the specialization of cultural
production hears that a given object is art, a set of expecta-
tions clicks in that neutralizes resistant meaning: The
expectation of an uplifting object that will reveal the
wisdom of ages past and the utopian vision of the future,
which are in turn associated with the principle of the state.
Unfortunately the expectation for art, much like the ex-
pectation for electronic media, is one in which the process
should be monologic. This should not be construed as a call
for anti-art, as art itself is not the problem being discussed;
rather, this is a call for artists, once outside the parameters
of cultural production for other members of the culture
industry, to separate their work from the system of signs
which shape the nonspecialist’s perception of art. The
option of redesigning the popular sign system is certainly
there, but that long term process could not be completed in
this generation or for many more to come. The only option
for immediate practical results is to sidestep the issue
altogether by avoiding the designation of resistant cultural
 Resisting the Bunker 49

objects as art. Of course should such objects find their way

into specialized institutions of culture, such as galleries or
museums, the work may be filtered through any sign system.
However, in the arena of cultural production for and with
nonspecialists, the better a work can blend with the every-
day life system (and yet alienate its viewer from the
oppressive rote of everyday life), causing them to reflect on
their position in it, the more the contestational voice will
enter the ideational bunker.

Such a goal is precisely what is accomplished by successful

work using the nomadic model. There are two types of
nomadic cultural action. The first is process oriented, and
is performative. In this case, the nomad selects an action
that within a given social situation instigates a dialogue
between random co-producers. The second variety is prod-
uct: An artifact is created, which when deployed in
site-specific areas, creates scepticism in the viewer, and in
the best case scenarios causes them to question the assump-
tions about the situation with others. Neither of these
tactics is particularly new, having nearly a century of
history behind them, but this does not make them any less
effective. In fact, in the age of overmanagement, they are
the only viable tactics through which any kind of demo-
cratic cultural participation can be achieved.

Let us begin with the concept of territory. Unlike monu-

mental conceptions that seek to take and dominate a given
area with a single voice that cannot be disputed, the
nomadic model rejects the maintenance of a single voice in
a given area. The voice of the nomadic cultural worker
insinuates itself into a given situation at given moment,
only to dissipate in the next. Or a product of similar form
50 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

but of oppositional content to other products within a

situation is strategically placed where it will likely be con-
sumed by whoever passes through the area. In both cases,
the success of the work is dependent upon the relinquishing
of control of a given area, as it is only through contrast,
difference, and lack of social management on the part of the
artist that a disruption and/or dialogue can occur. Once the
disruption is spotted by the officials who police the area, one
can assume that the area will be reterritorialized immedi-
ately. Just the process of seeing this cycle (deterritorialization,
disruption, reterritorialization) occur can be extremely en-
lightening for many, especially when what appears to be the
slightest offense provokes the most brutal response from
authorities. Use of the nomadic model in this manner
requires excellent camouflage in the case of the product, and
careful assessment of the time lapse between disruption (for
example, people acting autonomously through the exercise
of free speech) and the disciplinary response in the case of
process. This window will determine the duration of the
performance, unless the performer plans to incorporate the
police reaction into the script.

An additional aspect of great importance is that this model

does not recognize the public/private distinction in regard
to territory. This model assumes that the idea of public
space is a myth. In rational economy, action is always taken
in privatized space, which is to say managed space. The only
variable in question is to what degree a site is managed, i.e.,
how complex bureaucratic restrictions are at a given site,
and how powerful is the garrison which patrols the site.

Nomadic action can be understood as unmediated or direct

action. The cultural nomad sees all territories as potential
 Resisting the Bunker 51

sites of resistance. Once a site has been designated, s/he

proceeds to take a place within that territory. No permits
are obtained; no permissions are required. No particular
social aggregate is designated as audience or participants
(although this is not to say that various social characteris-
tics will not be partially determined by territory, as space is
most certainly socially stratified); rather participants are
viewed as individuals. Each individual in the situation is
not guided or directed by the artist, s/he is only encouraged
to speak by the artist’s process or product. The scripts
emerge; they are not written in advance. In this sense,
nomadic action is experimental in that the outcome is
unknown (which is not to say that parameters are not
unknown—police will stop the process or the product will
be destroyed). To be sure, a nomadic performance could
proceed along a very disappointing ideological trajectory as
easily as it could an enlightening one. Such possibilities are
quite the opposite of the bureaucratically routinized cer-
tainty of monumental culture. Nomadic action occurs in
the spatial cracks that separate the forces of micro-manage-
ment, and in the temporal gaps between autonomous
action and punishment, because it is in this liminal loca-
tion where the possibility for dialogic cultural action is
found.

What is more important, however, is that the “public” can

participate in generating “public art.” Anyone can partici-
pate in the nomadic model to the fullest extent of h/er
desire. While nomadic actions can be very elaborate and
expensive, they also can be very simple. Nomadic action
can cost nothing and still can be incredibly effective—the
only requirement is the will to do it. There are no bureau-
cracies to navigate, you don’t have to be a well-schooled or
52 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

famous artist, and any site is valid. Hence, no matter what

variety of everyday life systems a person participates in, an
element of radical practice can always be initiated within it.
For those who are not interested in instigating action (for
CAE does not want to take the naive view that everyone
should be making art if culture is to be democratic), the
nomadic work does not determine, silence, or exclude the
contributions of anyone who chooses to interact with the
process or product.

Through the use of nomadic tactics such as detournment,

creative vandalism, plagiarism, invisible theater, or coun-
terfeiting, to name but a few, bunkers can be disturbed. Any
work which can create the conditions for people to engage
in the transgressive act of rejecting a totalizing and closed
rational order, and to open themselves up to social interac-
tion beyond the principles of habituation, of exchange, and
of instrumentality within an environment of uncertainty,
is one which is truly resistant and truly transgressive, since
participants can revel in a moment of autonomy. Only
within such situations can dialogue occur, and only through
this occurrence can pedagogy have enlightening conse-
quences.

Example of a nomadic work.

Are We There Yet?

Critical Art Ensemble designed this work to be performed

at tourist sites and locations of extreme consumption. Note
that such locations are heavily garrisoned and fortified, so
only the slightest act of deviance is needed to provoke a
coercive response.
 Resisting the Bunker 53

The performer selected a spot near an entrance/exit area at

a public site, taking a position at the side of the entrance
way so as to minimize blockage. In place, he began to set up
a toy car track and then proceeded to push toy cars around
the track. Other cars were displayed for anyone else who
wanted to participate. Other collective members insinu-
ated themselves into the crowd that developed, and spoke
with the onlookers.

The results: The crowd generally began by speculating on the mental

health of the performer. Common themes were that the
performer was “loony,” “on drugs,” or a “Viet Nam vet.”
Some people would join the performer in pushing cars
around the track, sometimes as a taunt, but mostly as
gesture of sympathy. Within two to five minutes security
guards or police would arrive on the scene. They would
approach cautiously, fearing it was a disturbed person who
might be prone to violence (the security forces were gener-
ally quite public about discussing the situation). The sight
of security forces would attract more people to the scene.
Security would eventually tell the performer to “move
along.” The performer would ignore the command, and act
as if he were oblivious to the people around him. Security
would then threaten the performer with arrest if he did not
move. This is the moment when the most interesting
dialogue began, and the greatest understanding of public
management emerged. The spectators were suddenly con-
fronted with the reality that a person was about to be
arrested simply for playing with toy cars. On most occa-
sions, the majority of people in the crowd would make
verbal protests while standing in stunned disbelief, al-
though in every case there were those who thought the
police action was for the best, and that the performer really
54 Electronic Civil Disobedience and Other Unpopular Ideas

did need help. On one occasion, violence between the

police and the crowd was on the verge of breaking out, and
the performance was broken off prematurely. In all other
cases, the performance was stopped just prior to arrest.

Notes and figures: Cost of the performance-$10 for the cars

and track; the theater space was appropriated; no perfor-
mance experience was required.