#rupert acton

[rupertacton]

The Coming War

“We will blow the fuckers to smithereens” said Akela as he carefully put the IED together.

The fighting had been getting more intense. What started as a few isolated clashes centred around Brownsea Island and the rest of Poole Bay had begun to spread around the country. The Scouts operated with greater numbers and this numerical advantage defined the early skirmishes, but as the Woodcraft Folk, and it's more radical splinter groups, were pushed further underground they adopted guerrilla tactics, which meant that the Scouts were forced to adopt more innovative methods to suppress what they saw as the subversive activities of these smaller youth movements.

Youth movements had become extremely important in the years following the Great Disturbances. The remnants of the traditional power structures had entered into an uneasy alliance, a Centrist Coalition, that, despite it's name, was authoritarian in nature and deeply bound to the Royal Family and the Aristocracy. They argued that it had to be, to stop the country falling into complete chaos. Martial Law was put in place indefinitely and the more troublesome regions and cities had strict curfews imposed upon them. The Scouts had become essential to imposing these new conditions.

They were one of the few groups outside of the Police and the Army who were bound by a code of loyalty to the Royal Family, and more importantly, they consisted of the young and the healthy. As well as stamping down on subversive elements within the schools, they were mobilised into Bob a Job Squads, providing services and acting as a vigilante police force in regions where the remaining Police Service had dwindled to a handful of older pre-Disturbance members and become ineffective for the level of control needed from the government.

Knot tying and camping were still part of Scout activity, but small arms training and hand to hand combat were added, along with recruits from the various cadet groups of the armed services. As waves of civil unrest still swept across the country the Scout base at Brownsea Island was fortified, the John Lewis Group were expelled, and with the help of the ever loyal National Trust, the island became a paramilitary training centre for elite Scouts from across the country.

The Woodcraft Folk were slow to react, due to the nature of the organisation they were reluctant to react to the increased militarisation of the Scouts. Passive resistance and non-violent civil disobedience were the initial tactics. A heated Althing was held 2 years into the Scout's new role in enforcing government policies, some District Fellows argued that they should become part of the wider Scouting movement, some proposed splitting away and reforming the Kibbo Kift Kindred, dark ideas which had lain dormant within the movement for many years started to rise to the surface, others proposed continuing passive resistance or waiting for a return to democracy.

A small group of South-east London based District Fellows decided to do something else. They knew there was a small cache of arms still hidden on a local estate from before the Disturbances swept the country. Including the Venturers and Pioneers they numbered around 20. At the Althing they managed to persuade a number of other groups to join them, not revealing anything except that the time for passive resistance and non-violence was over.

In the back room of a youth centre in Brockley the first Thing of the new Woodcraft Armed Volunteer Force (WAVF) took place. London was still relatively free from Government intervention, the GLA still retaining a level of control and a semblance of democratic process, which meant that a meeting such as this could only go ahead within the walls of M25 Security Cordon. Consisting of about fifty 10-20 year olds of both sexes, the meeting was heated. Plans were discussed, anger was expressed at the way the Scout's were shutting down Woodcraft meetings, the adult leadership of the Woodcraft Folk were criticised for colluding with and appeasing the Scouts out of fear for retaliation and the creeping fascism that was becoming part of everyday life in the name of “order” was loudly decried.

The arms cache was revealed, handguns, sub-machine guns and about 20 grenades were the remains of a long forgotten street gang's arsenal. Some people at the meeting were shocked when they saw the actual reality of the weapons but armed resistance was unanimously supported by all in attendance. Although the arsenal was small it was enough to start training a core group of District Commandos in Oxleas Wood near Charlton. Members from the regions were sent out of the M25 Cordon with instructions to start cells in their own Woodcraft groups. Training publications were created, with ideological justifications of breaking the vows to pacifism that all Woodcraft Folk took, instructions on bomb making, hand to hand combat and how to react when interrogated.

The first attacks on Scout Huts occurred in the London area. Mainly vandalism and petrol bombings. Disaffected Scouts started to be recruited for double agent work and infiltration, many within the movement were disillusioned with the way they were being used by the ageing leadership to uphold a government that stood against a lot of what they had been taught in modern Scouting. This led to a mass clampdown on both dissident Scouts and Woodcraft Folk around the country. Meetings were to be fully vetted for revolutionary content and members of dissident groups were put under state surveillance.

The original Brockley based cell, now calling itself the Brockley Thing in tribute to one of the original Woodcraft Folk chapters, and with an as yet unused arsenal of guns, ammunition and grenades went fully underground. The older District Fellows went across country, breaching the security cordon and staying with sympathisers, as they made their way to Poole Habour. Money was siphoned from Woodcraft Folk accounts, now being disbanded and handed over to Scout and Beaver groups, into the accounts of a small boat charter company run by a former District Fellow and plans were put in place for an attack on Brownsea Island, the home of the Scouts.

In many ways it was a symbolic attack, a declaration of war. The Brockley Thing members, numbering 10 in total, arrived at Brownsea Island just before dawn in two small inflatables. They landed on a stretch of sandy beach and quickly moved into the wood that covered most of the island. 5 of them headed towards the huge former hotel for John Lewis employees that now housed the Scout leadership and the other 5 headed towards the camp on the other side of the island used for training the elite Scouts.

The attack was completely unexpected, although the Scouts had intelligence that the more radical elements within the rival organisation were espousing a more hands on approach to resistance they had no idea about the small group from London and the arms cache. Around 10 Scouts and 2 District Fellows from the Brockley Thing were killed in the fighting that ensued, one member of the Brockley group was taken prisoner, and 3 Scouts were kidnapped. The surviving members of the Brockley Thing escaped on the inflatables with their hostages, landing on an isolated stretch of  Poole Harbour near the Arne RSPB Reserve, where they were met by the remaining members of the cell.

The reaction was almost immediate, all non-Scout approved youth organisations were banned outright and members were made to leave or face arrest and indefinite detentions. As the small rebel cell moved across country they were pursued by Scouts, both groups making use of the outward bound training they had all received on camping trips before the Great Disturbances and the trade war with the EU that left Britain isolated and cut off from the rest of the world with only it's history and landscape left to hang on to.

The original group were apprehended trying to re-enter London after a number of engagements with Scout Troops throughout Dorset, Hampshire and on towards the M25. They were all executed on the spot, 2 of the 3 Scouts who were taken hostage were also executed for aiding their kidnappers. However, the attack and ensuing crackdown, ensured that the ideas of that first meeting in the back room of the youth centre in Brockley had taken hold around the country. Small leaderless cells sprang up from the remains of the illegal groups. District Fellows, some working from within the Scouts, mounted a sustained guerrilla campaign of bombings and shootings. The Scouts mounted their own campaign, and the Government struggled to control the group they created, who were now more concerned with destroying the Woodcraft Folk and their allies than maintaining order. The arms came flooding into the country from around the world, war was coming and the child soldiers of Britain were ready to fight.

[rupertacton]

THE CARETAKER

The Londoners were the best. They were the most fun. As they headed out in the morning, maybe to walk the Coastal Path, maybe to one of the local attractions, the Caretaker would head in. The job was perfect for someone with such a curious disposition. There was always a risk of getting caught, but there was always a reasonable explanation. Some people would actually be thankful for such professional and attentive service, leaving special mentions in the guestbook. It was the guestbooks which first got the Caretakers attention, tiny little windows into the lives of the people who ghosted in and out of the cottage as the weeks of summer passed by.

It started as a summer job to earn some extra money in the holidays and became a career. There wasn't much other work around, the economy of the area was entirely dependent on tourism and, besides, the fringe benefits were more than enough. After working at a number of different properties in the area the Caretaker had now been settled looking after the same cliff top cottage for many years now. It was located on a stretch of coastline owned by the Heritage Society and the Caretaker's cottage was located a short walk from the holiday cottage, but tucked away, creating the illusion for the holidaymakers of being somewhere quite remote.

Of course this illusion was only mostly true. The village in the cove at the bottom of the cliffs was far enough away to be forgotten about but close enough to provide a pub that was a walk away. There were a number of other properties on the cliff-top, mostly holiday homes, either owned by private individuals or the Heritage Society. The holiday cottage slept 3, mainly attracting couples, or people with one young child, older couples, and the occasional, slightly awkward, group of friends. It was expensive in the summer, less so in the winter, and the clientèle changed accordingly. It was mainly people from the cities; Bristol, Birmingham, Manchester and, more often than not, London.

It started with the keeping of little mementos, people often left things in the cottage when they had left, and the Caretaker saw no harm in keeping something discarded by people who seemed to have more than enough stuff already. Hairbands, tins of food, socks, underwear, leaflets, scribbled notes, books, receipts. It was enjoyable but frustrating, you could only get a vague idea of the people from these tiny little scraps, and the Caretaker craved more.

It helped that they often left the cottage for the whole day, only to return at night, to cook, and drink, and make love, or play board games, or argue. There was a spot between the cottages, just behind the hedge and stone wall which separated the gardens, where the caretaker could sit and listen to all this happen. This, combined with the mementos gleaned whilst getting the cottage ready for the next guests, sufficed for a year or so. The next step was obvious, but building up the courage to enter the cottage while people were staying took time. Getting caught without a convincing explanation would almost certainly lead to disciplinary action and either a move or a sacking, and neither of these things would do.

After a year the Caretaker had worked out when people were leaving for the day, and not just popping to the shop. The backdoor to the holiday cottage could be reached via the garden and this meant the Caretaker could avoid the path and reach the door without much risk of being seen by anyone. The walkers were the easiest to predict. If they left in the morning with full backpacks and walking boots on, they were almost certain not to return until dusk. The visits started tentatively, pushing the key into the lock and entering the cottage was an act of transgression, the beating of the Caretakers heart seemed to echo through the cottage.

Despite some near misses with people returning early, walks disrupted by arguments, visits to local attractions that worked the opposite effect on the metropolitan couples, the Caretaker managed to continue visiting the cottage. The thrill of crossing the boundary into other peoples lives gradually wore off but the Caretaker's fascination didn't.

Taking small objects for the Caretaker's growing collection became the central part of each visit to the cottage. Sticking to things that often went missing or wouldn't be noticed limited what the Caretaker could take but after a few years the collection was respectably large. Questions of taxonomy, classification and storage quickly became important. Each object had a number, which corresponded to an entry into a growing series of log books with details relating to the date and time found with a brief description of the object and the people who it once belonged to. After the purchase of a cheap laptop these log books were also backed up digitally, and the purchase of a digital camera meant each entry could have a corresponding image.

Storage and display of objects was a problem that needed to be solved carefully, the Caretaker wanted easy access to the collection but was very aware of not leaving too much of the collection on display, as guests and fellow Heritage Society employees would occasionally show up at the front door, or, annoyingly, pop in for tea or a chat.

Over time the Caretaker started to create a hierarchy of objects. There was an archive area in a series of wardrobes and chests of drawers in the bedroom, many of these objects would only be accessed occasionally, they consisted of things considered less interesting, generic objects that said little without the corresponding information from the database. The display collection, which was rotated a few times a year, was kept in the study, a room that no visitor would ever need to see. Certain objects from the archive appeared in the display collection but there was always a large percentage of new objects and a few objects that never left. These untouchables included the first object the Caretaker took and a few large pieces that were left behind by guests who never tried to reclaim them. There was also a small handling collection of the most tactile and texturally interesting pieces in the collection, that was added to and archived at regular intervals in relation to the Caretaker's current obsessions.

As the collection grew it started to tell different stories and the Caretaker would search for new meanings from the objects. Arranging and rearranging the collection started to reveal the fashions, food fads, music trends, book reading habits, politics, sexual fetishes and more of a group of people the Caretaker would never have got to know otherwise. At first it was pasta, then couscous, then quinoa. At first it was La Perla, then Agent Provocateur, then Victoria's Secret. At first it was chocolate body paint, then furry handcuffs, then butt plugs. At first it was Riders, then Bridget Jones, then 50 Shades of Grey. All of these trends overlapped and reappeared, sometimes the Caretaker would pick a subject and curate a specific exhibition, cross referencing objects from over the years and grouping them thematically, sometimes the Caretaker would pick a year, or series of years,  and exhibit only objects found within that time frame.  

The individuals slowly became less interesting than the objects for the Caretaker. Listening to the talking, bickering, sex, drunken arguments, jokes, and debates, which was once so thrilling, became of secondary importance to the collection and it's constant demand for new artefacts. A small storage unit in the closest town was rented for overspill objects or objects deemed less likely to be relevant or important in the future. It was becoming harder to conceal the collection, which the Caretaker now liked to think of as a museum, A Museum of Them, them being the city dwellers who appeared then disappeared, leaving behind tiny traces of their lives in the small slice of rural paradise they temporarily inhabited for the duration of their visit to the cottage.

When the Police came, accompanied by senior Heritage Society staff, they found the body of the Caretaker in the study/exhibition space, surrounded by the objects, the database still open on the laptop. The existence of The Museum of Them was quietly and quickly dismantled, a couple of stories about the death of the loyal Heritage Society Caretaker appeared in the Parish quarterly and the local paper.  The funeral was attended by a few co-workers and some people from the village. The Caretaker was cremated and a new caretaker was tasked with looking after the needs and desires of the cottage and it's temporary residents.  

Images courtesy of Verity-Jane Keefe

[rupertacton]

ALA

00:00, Monday, Strata Tower, Elephant & Castle, London

Broken glass, the twisted remains of Boris Bikes, the smell of explosives, the sound of alarms. 

The aftermath of the explosion was exciting, shocking, scary, empowering and dangerous. They all agreed on this. Despite the lack of deep structural damage they all felt the point had been made. The entire concierge/reception area was destroyed. The area around Elephant & Castle was closed to traffic. This would last well until the next day at least. Debris would have to cleared from the road and train tracks, and the investigations by the Police and the Fire Services would have to be completed before things got back to normal. There had been no casualties, although they had all gone into this knowing that security staff and residents were all at risk of serious injury or even death. Like all terrorists, which they now most definitely were, they had considered the risk to the general public, staff and residents worth it for the purposes of raising the awareness of their cause, in fact, they considered it an integral part of it.

Sitting in their safe room, deep in the corridors of one of London's most prestigious universities, the mood was somehow both subdued and heightened. Elation at a successful operation was mixed with an intense realisation of what they had actually done. The wine bottles were being emptied at a much faster rate than the packets of Kettle Chips. They wondered what the less militant members of their informal pub based talking shop would make of the “action”, and would anyone guess it was them. The next meeting was due that week, and they expected the attack on the Strata would dominate discussion. The tower was universally hated by everyone who passed through the group.  It wasn't just architecturally without merit, it also represented everything they thought was wrong with planning policy in London, and in a wider way what they all feared was the future for London and the whole of the country.

The 4 members of the cell had grown tired of the discussions in various London pubs. They were hardly impotent discussions, many of the people who joined them held positions of influence in academia, local government and the media, some elements of what they discussed even made their way into public policy and guides to architectural best practice. Most people in the group were more or less resigned to this, seeing no alternative but to work within the system and try to better it or at least ameliorate the worst elements of the current situation.

Calls for direct but peaceful action were also listened to, and demonstrations were arranged.  Property trade shows, building sites and planning meetings became the site of regular interventions. All 4 of them took part in these, none of them were from backgrounds of direct activism, but they had joined various demonstrations in the past and this seemed like more of the same. Outside of the small world of the architectural press and academia there didn't seem to be much interest.  Planning wasn't an easy sell to news editors compared to violent Islamicism or the rise of various fringe political parties.

Being arrested at the demonstration arranged at the MIPIM trade fair changed everything. All 4 of them were arrested together. All 4 resisted arrest, all 4 felt the feeling of truncheon against skin and the feeling of being treated as common criminals for peacefully expressing their views. They were released without charge in the end but soon after they started meeting separately from the rest of the group. Reading lists were discussed, architectural criticism was replaced by the various manifestos and start up guides published by terrorist groups of all political and religious persuasions that were freely available on the internet. These covered everything from bomb making recipes to anti­surveillance techniques to how to successfully package your attack for social networks and the conventional media.

It was a steep learning curve, the first training camp was a shambles. There were some delightful walks through the countryside from the Anglesey holiday cottage that belonged to an unassuming friend, but at the end of the 4 days they all agreed that a nice weekend away wasn't really preparation for a sustained campaign of terror. The next time they stepped it up. No pubs, no meals out, no visits to bird sanctuaries or National Trust properties or disused Nuclear Power Plants. The first explosive device was tested and successfully detonated somewhere in Snowdonia National Park. The friend who owned the place in Anglesey just assumed they were all having affairs with each other and didn't want to question why they kept using the cottage.

They took sabbaticals from their various posts at universities, or their public sector planning jobs.  This was common practice and no one really took much notice. Everyone thought they were writing books. They took care to maintain the same radical but moderate opinions they usually expressed. They visited the Shard, the Walkie Talkie, the Gherkin and many other buildings in London, profiling the targets, identifying weak points in security, looking at the risk to themselves and to the people who work or live in the targeted buildings. They struggled with the ethical implications of the possibility of killing innocent people, the damage it could do to the cause they were trying to further and the personal impact of becoming criminals and terrorists.

They collectively decided that they had gone too far to stop now. In some ways they had become infatuated with the idea of terror and imposing their will on the general public for it's own sake but they also thought people had become entirely complacent, most of the population not even having the vaguest clue about what was being done, and not really caring when they did. They considered themselves the only people who could actually wake people up to what was happening: The immense property scams conducted by developers, both in collaboration with and at the expense of local councils and central government. The use of urban regeneration as a smokescreen for the social cleansing of London. The rapid gentrification of large swathes of the city. The empty towers full of luxury flats with overseas owners. The rise of pseudo­public space. The nightclubs and pubs closing down.

The Strata stands like a three eyed Cyclops watching over the battered corpse of what was once the Heygate Estate. The wind rushes across the empty plaza at it's feet but never seems to turn the three wind turbines in it's head. A man in a fleece, sensible shoes and cords is placing a small package carefully near the entrance to the lobby, the security guard is dealing with a difficult woman claiming to be a resident, she's asked him to come across the road to help her with some bags and he has obliged despite himself. Two people are sitting in a car parked in a back street just off the Walworth Road, one is holding a makeshift remote detonator made from an old NOKIA 3210, one is holding a stolen untraceable smartphone, simultaneously the detonator is pressed and the manifesto of London's newest terrorist group is published online...

Image courtesy of Verity-Jane Keefe

[rupertacton]

An Anthropology Of 18 Objects: The Debrief

All 18 pieces are now posted. If you want to buy the publication featuring all the objects for the bargain price of £5 it is available here: 

http://rupertacton.bigcartel.com/product/an-anthropology-of-18-objects

If you want to see some of the pieces performed live there will be a London show coming very soon. Watch this space for further details of that.

I hope you've enjoyed all 18 objects, it was definitely a good experience working this way and there will be more stuff like this in the future I hope.

In the forthcoming months there will be A LOT MORE MUSIC on here. Keep an eye out for exciting developments with the ever ongoing SYLO project and a tasty little free download EP featuring production from 184, Naim, Kissinger and Kams.

One love, as Blue said.

[rupertacton]

Number 18: Basket

Number 18 from An Anthropology of 18 Objects, a publication that I made in collaboration with Verity-Jane Keefe.

I participated in The Horniman Museum’s Community Fieldworkers project in early 2014. 34 South Londoners were invited to respond to 18 objects from the museum’s anthropology collection.

The publication is available to buy here.

[rupertacton]

Number 17: Snuff Spoon

Number 17 from An Anthropology of 18 Objects, a publication that I made in collaboration with Verity-Jane Keefe.

I participated in The Horniman Museum’s Community Fieldworkers project in early 2014. 34 South Londoners were invited to respond to 18 objects from the museum’s anthropology collection.

The publication is available to buy here.

[rupertacton]

Number 16: Shredding Tool

Number 16 from An Anthropology of 18 Objects, a publication that I made in collaboration with Verity-Jane Keefe.

I participated in The Horniman Museum’s Community Fieldworkers project in early 2014. 34 South Londoners were invited to respond to 18 objects from the museum’s anthropology collection.

The publication is available to buy here.

[rupertacton]

Number 15: Teapot

Number 15 from An Anthropology of 18 Objects, a publication that I made in collaboration with Verity-Jane Keefe.

I participated in The Horniman Museum’s Community Fieldworkers project in early 2014. 34 South Londoners were invited to respond to 18 objects from the museum’s anthropology collection.

The publication is available to buy here.