For my Digital Anthropology masters dissertation, I looked at how people use digital activism in the fight to end raw sewage pollution. During my fieldwork and writing up, there were two high profile court cases where Just Stop Oil protesters were jailed for between 20 months and 5 years for planning motorway disruption or throwing paint at artworks.

Although this cause was distinct and separate from the campaign to end raw sewage pollution, many activists are involved (or care about) both movements. The jailing of Just Stop Oil campaigners highlights an important issue in the current political environment. Protesters are caught in what academic Thierry Aaron referred to on X as “the activists’ dilemma”. They must generate media attention by disturbing the peace enough to get arrested and risk jail. Or use alternative, more gentle methods (and potentially fail to get noticed). I saw Aaron’s image (cover photo) shared on a WhatsApp chat after the Restore Nature Now march in June. It’s an ongoing debate.

Activism in Hastings

The activists I met in Hastings were making full use of digital tools to communicate and share information. They were also practising what can be seen as slow resistance (a concept introduced by Natasha Saunders and Tamara Al-Om). Slow resistance is an alternative to direct action – it’s a subtle but collective response to a chronic, ongoing, oppressive problem (like sewage pollution). The collective nature of the action means that relationships are reinforced and strengthened, making the community more resilient. There is encouragement and support for action, but even refusal to pay water bills is all done (as far as possible) within the law.

In Hastings, I found 5 key types of digital activism:

Please note all names (*) are pseudonyms.

1. Sharing striking images

Striking images are essential to draw attention to an issue. Daisy* creates social media content for a local campaign group as well as local swimming groups. Her preferred platform is Instagram. She suspects that algorithms suppress political content, so she adjusts her posts accordingly. Daisy plays the system by posting content she thinks the algorithm will favour – there are a lot of sparkly outfits and floral bathing caps. “I do our posts with the frame and the colours and try and make it short and snappy because then I think it’s a bit more of a ‘fun’ thing. Instagram won’t want loads of posts about poo and sewage – because then people are turned off Instagram.”

Frankie*, a campaign co-ordinator at Surfers Against Sewage, tells me that paddle-out participants are getting more creative. A paddle-out involves anyone who likes surfing, paddle-boarding, kayaking or swimming, going out onto the water to protest against sewage pollution. “At Plymouth we had a toilet on a surfboard [and] we had a mermaid in Falmouth who couldn’t walk because of her huge tail. She got lifted onto a paddleboard and pushed out into the water!”

Surfers Against Sewage know that eye-catching props and outfits help get media coverage. “Our iconic look is gas mask, wetsuit, surfboard,” says Frankie. Whatever the cause, content that begets a powerful emotional response – shock, anger, surprise or amusement – is essential to get traction not just with users but also with media gatekeepers – be they human or algorithmic.

Digital activism - images from the 2024 paddle-out posted on the Surfers Against Sewage Instagram account

Images from the 2024 paddle-out posted on Surfers Against Sewage’s Instagram account

 

2. Sharing advice and support

Since the Public Order Act 2023, direct action is more liable to criminal prosecution. The activists I spent time with in Hastings are mostly mothers and grandmothers who have no desire to go to prison to make a point. Instead they are interested in everyday acts of resistance such as communal sea swimming (often in spite of sewage), water testing and withholding payment on water bills. Digital tools are primarily used to share information and offer support.

For those like Amelia*, who is no longer paying the sewage element of her water bill, WhatsApp chats are an essential source of advice. They are particularly useful when it comes to communicating with Southern Water: “ I haven’t done my letter [of complaint] yet because I’m leaving it as long as possible. But next week is my week to sit down [and] troll all my WhatsApp groups…because we’re all giving each other pointers.”

3. Getting information

Many people I spoke to in Hastings have become cynical and disaffected about the UK’s political leadership. They feel that, following successive scandals (Grenfell, Covid, the Post Office, infected blood) politicians can no longer be trusted. When there is no one reliable source of truth, the truth is up for grabs. But as trust erodes, it leads to polarisation: different groups rely on conflicting information, making consensus difficult or impossible. Lacking trust in corporate organisations and institutions, people are turning to channels like WhatsApp and X to find a “truth” that resonates with them. As Amelia* says:

“For me, Twitter (X) is a source. I have access to real science. Not pseudo scientists, fake scientists, whatever. It’s my way of gleaning information about what is happening all over the world and potentially what we might really be up against…It’s like George Orwell, you know, 1984?  I mean, it’s just like…[politicians] are not being honest!”

4. Building community and relationships

While WhatsApp was important, Facebook was also surprisingly central for community connection and relationship building. In Hastings I joined at least 27 different Facebook groups – covering specific activities, like swimming, or sharing cultural events happening in St.Leonards, Hastings Old Town, or other parts of the community. There are also different campaign groups, like Save Old Roar Gill, Clean Water Action Group or the Hastings Kelp Project.

Digital activism is easier if it’s a platform everyone can access. Although Evelyn* tells me she is struggling to get her Facebook page to reach young people because the algorithm doesn’t prioritise her content in their feeds – it’s a different demographic: “XR down here in Hastings, it’s all oldies!”

Facebook was the main platform for recruiting people to the paddle-out I led for Surfers Against Sewage. The organisation has a paddle-out map on its website, which links to the 32 Facebook event pages set up by protest leads across the UK – lots of local community groups have Facebook pages, and all Surfers Against Sewage’s regional reps are on there. 

5. Record-keeping and journaling

In addition to public posting, there is daily documentation – record-keeping and note-taking. When I walk along Old Roar Gill – a narrow valley of ancient woodland which has been repeatedly contaminated by sewage pollution, my guide Pippa* is constantly stopping to take photos: “See that water coming over the weir? It’s a little bit too foamy for my liking.” She admits it can be a thankless task: “I’ve taken personally hundreds of photos, reported sewage fungus, sewage, foam in water. Every time we do it they [Southern Water] send people and they say there’s nothing there. Unbelievable. They do what they like!” Although she says that now the Greens are the dominant group on Hastings borough council, things are finally beginning to change.

Final note

When using digital tools, the activists I met were fully aware of the pros and cons. They appreciate that free tools are easy to use and accessible to a wide audience – but the issue of potential state involvement and who actually controls the content and platform are always in the background. For example, Hastings’ XR activists prefer Telegram as a messaging service over WhatsApp because they are distrustful of WhatsApp’s owner, Meta, and its reliance on collecting personal data for advertisers.

Further reading

Recommended books and papers on digital activism:

Photo: Thierry Aaron (via X)

digital anthropology Facebook fieldwork Hastings raw sewage sewage pollution Surfers Against Sewage Telegram WhatsApp