Learning the Ropes of Civil Disobedience

As a cold morning fog settled Friday on a secluded mountaintop in Malibu, a group of environmentalists-turned-climbing students practiced tying slipknots. Before them stood a six-story scaffolding, a stand-in for the buildings they may one day scale to unfurl enormous banners bearing their political message.

“Knots are what keep you alive,” instructor John Sellers warned. “Knots are all about friction, and they keep you from hitting the ground.”

Malibu Action Camp, four free days of training in the techniques of civil disobedience, had begun.

Nearly 85 local environmentalists looking to take their activism beyond letter-writing campaigns are attending the camp where students are learning the basics of “direct action” campaigns. Pioneered by Greenpeace in the ‘80s, such pro-environment efforts include boarding ships accused of using illegal fishing nets, occupying trees slated for logging and, most frequently, hanging huge banners from buildings.

“It’s in the grand tradition of good ol’ American nonviolent protest,” said Kelly Quirk, who hosted a similar camp on his land in Sonoma County in May.

Begun by the nonprofit Ruckus Society in 1995, the camps are designed to pass on the knowledge of veteran activists. By the end of 1996, about 600 people will have been trained at camps in Oregon, Montana, Northern California and Malibu, organizers said.

Over the four days, students will hear lectures ranging from the most practical--banner-making and befriending the media--to the more philosophical--strategies for choosing protest targets.

During a four-hour session Friday, participants learned the basics of climbing, a detailed process that begins with belting yourself into a harness and learning to tie knots.

“Safety is our main concern,” said Ruckus Society founder Mike Roselle. “We would be totally discredited if something were to happen.”

As Ruckus Society member Jeremy Paster said: “There’s always a risk involved in hanging 300 feet off a building.”

On the camp’s fourth day, students will learn techniques used in nonviolent civil disobedience campaigns. Often, Paster said, protesters are faced with angry workers, loggers or police.

Roselle said people seem more willing to take up the cause these days. “We are doing exactly the same thing we were doing five to seven years ago, but now it’s a lot more productive environment for organizing,” said Roselle, who started the Ruckus Society after Greenpeace stopped its in-house training of activists in 1991.

Participation by celebrities seems to have helped by landing issues on the evening news, said Roselle, whose 30 arrests include detention for hanging a gas mask on the George Washington statue on Mt. Rushmore to protest legislation on acid rain.

Last month actor Woody Harrelson, who was trained by the Ruckus Society, was among those who scaled San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge to focus attention on efforts to save a 60,000-acre ancient redwood grove in Northern California, Roselle said.

Michelle Sypert, an environmental attorney from Beverly Hills, was among those being trained Friday. But she is not so sure she’ll use the skills anytime soon. Still, she said she fervently agrees with civil disobedience for environmental causes and has acted as a legal observer in past protests.

“Nonviolence and civil disobedience still have moral authority,” said Sypert, 30. “I still think it is one of the few ways you have in a democratic society for a minority to effect change.”

Sherry Sanders Galloway, 49, is still considering whether she will scale buildings for a cause. But the registered nurse from Big Sur said she doesn’t waste an opportunity to let others know her beliefs.

“I’ve gone into a coffee shop and said, ‘Oh, I don’t use Styrofoam cups,’ ” Galloway told fellow students during a seminar.

But Suzanne Teachey, an herbalist from Venice, can’t wait to use her new skills. Teachey attended the group’s Oregon camp and was in Malibu to hone her skills.

“The one way to effect change is to educate the public, and hanging a banner is a way to educate people,” said Teachey, who was arrested for locking herself to a bulldozer to protest a development in the Ballona wetlands.

Teachey suggested that she would participate in an undisclosed upcoming campaign, but said she wasn’t at liberty to elaborate.

“I will definitely be more involved in more direct action in the future,” said Teachey, 35. “But, frankly, I can’t tell you when or how.”