From building fake cannabis nurseries in the middle of the CBD to rolling a tank across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, WILLIAM STOLK doesn’t do subtle. Here, the serial activist shares a few of his protesting tips…
The Night the Opera House Lit Up
When people bring up the ‘420’ projection on the Opera House, they’ll usually jump to the conclusion of it being something shallow. A cheeky cannabis stunt? A viral prank? A stunt designed to grab headlines? While all these make for a good debate topic, it was anything but that.
In April 2022, Alec Zammitt and I stood beneath the sails of the Sydney Opera House and projected the number ‘420’ alongside a bright green leaf onto one of the most recognisable buildings in the world. It went viral, international media outlets picked it up. Social media did what social media does best. Police turned up. Charges followed. Two years went by, after multiple court appearances and a long legal battle, the case fell apart. The court described aspects of the police behaviour as oppressive. The charges were dropped and cherry on top, we walked out with compensation.
Most people still view that moment as a form of cannabis reform movement.
But what if I told you it was never about cannabis, and the projection was never really about weed. It was about power. It was about who controls public space. It was about who decides which messages are legitimate and how far the system is willing to go in discouraging unsanctioned speech, even when it harms no-one. It was about testing the limits of dissent in modern Australia and it definitely revealed
far more than we initially projected.
Public Space Isn’t as Public as You Think
We’re all raised on the understanding that some spaces are owned by all, or at least that is how we are led to believe. Landmarks. Parks. Streets. Icons. Buildings funded by taxpayers. They’re described as collective assets, symbols of national identity if you will. But public ownership doesn’t automatically mean public expression. Corporate logos are projected onto buildings all the time. Sponsored light shows take place all the time. Government campaigns wrap themselves around public spaces all the time.
Over the past decade I’ve organised and participated in dozens of visual protests. From projecting messages onto iconic buildings to building fake cannabis nurseries in the middle of the CBD, to rolling a tank across the Harbour Bridge. I’ve done everything in between. It was about reclaiming public space, forcing conversations people would rather not have and proving that creative dissent can still punch through all the noise.
Protest in Australia: The Technical Reality
Australia presents itself as a democracy that respects freedom of expression. And it does, to a point. Freedom of speech exists. Elections go on. Society functions. But protest law, on the other hand, tells a more complicated story.
What most people don’t realise is that there’s no single, clear, nationwide law that simply says: “You have the right to protest.” Instead, it’s a make-do. Each state is governed under its own legislation. Police powers vary. Restrictions differ.
Over the past decade, protest laws across the country have been reinforced. Governments have introduced heavier fines for blocking roads and interfering with ‘major economic activity’. Trespass laws have been strengthened. Powers to make protesters ‘move-on’ have expanded. In some states, obstruction offences can carry penalties that are sure to burn a hole financially. In New South Wales police can declare certain areas restricted following specific security incidents. Those restrictions can remain in place for extended periods of time and give officers significant authority to disperse gatherings, conduct searches and prevent marches.
No-one stands up and bans protest outright. That would be too obvious. Instead, protest becomes legally complex, strategically risky and increasingly expensive. That will not be the end of protests, but it changes the game.
Disruption is the Real Target
Modern protest laws rarely criminalise speech directly. Instead, they criminalise disruption. Blocking major roads. Occupying industrial sites. Interfering with infrastructure. Trespassing on private property. Locking yourself onto equipment. You can hold a sign. You can chant slogans. You can speak to the media. But if you block traffic, obstruct entrances, interfere with business operations, or enter private property, the legal consequences are taken to another level. The excuse is always about safety, stability, and economic protection. And those are legitimate concerns in many contexts. But the pattern behind the shadow is clear, you can speak, just don’t meaningfully inconvenience anything or they are for sure to come for you.
Understanding this grey area is crucial. Because once you understand what is actually being policed, you can design actions that remain effective without crossing certain legal thresholds. This is the tightrope that we, modern activists, have to walk. A rally standing in a park that doesn’t block entrances or traffic is treated very differently from a march that halts a motorway. The legal consequences shift dramatically depending on those details. Strategy matters more than ever.
Who Are We Hurting?
Every action our team designs begins with a simple question: Who are we hurting? If the honest answer is ‘no-one,’ then why are we still oppressed? Our projections don’t damage buildings. Temporary installations are dismantled. We don’t break windows. We don’t vandalise property. The disruption is visual and psychological, never physical. It interrupted attention. And that’s it.
The Opera House projection followed this philosophy exactly. A beam of light leaves no scar. The interesting part wasn’t the projection itself, it was the response. When authorities react aggressively to a harmless act, the contrast speaks for itself. Sometimes the overreaction amplifies the message more effectively than the action ever could.
Treat Protest Like an Operation
There’s a romantic idea that powerful protest is spontaneous. That it’s just passion into proving a point spilling into the streets. In reality, an effective protest is planned.
If you’re organising something beyond a handful of friends with signs, think operationally:
● Assign roles.
● Have someone to film.
● Have someone ready to speak to the media.
● Have an eye on police positioning.
● Have an idea on how people will leave if things escalate.
Have roles. Have backups. Have a plan.
Documentation is non-negotiable. Video footage can protect participants from false narratives. It shapes how the public interprets what happened. And if the situation ends up in court, it can become crucial evidence. In our case, documentation mattered. If something isn’t recorded, someone else will tell the story for you.
Non-violent Doesn’t Mean Quiet
There’s a misconception that non-violent protests must be soft, polite or passive. That’s wrong. And history doesn’t support this idea. Some of the most powerful protests in history were disciplined and non-violent. They were confrontational without being destructive. They were impossible to ignore without causing harm. You can be loud. You can be disruptive to attention. You can challenge authority directly, without harming anyone. The key is discipline.
The moment violence or property destruction enters the picture, the conversation changes. The focus shifts from the issue to the damage. Public sympathy narrows. Media coverage reframes the story. Maintaining non-violence isn’t about weakness. It’s about control. Control keeps the spotlight where it belongs.
Solidarity is Logistics
Never attend high-risk actions alone. Know who is beside you. Exchange names. Have emergency contacts. Decide in advance what happens if someone is detained. Check in with each other regularly. Stress changes people and in tense situations, small things matter.
A calm voice, steady presence, clear communication. Movements survive because people take care of one another, not because of slogans. Solidarity isn’t symbolic. It’s practical.
Technology is Both Weapon and Risk
Smartphones have changed protesting. They amplify reach instantly. They preserve evidence. They expose overreach in real time. Just like a double-edged sword, they can also expose you. Location sharing can map movements. Biometric unlocking can make devices easier to access. Casual posts can reveal plans before they unfold. If you’re organising, use encrypted messaging platforms. Turn off unnecessary tracking. Don’t broadcast operational details prematurely. It’s not paranoia. It’s basic awareness. Loose talk has derailed more carefully designed plans than police intervention ever has. Silence, used wisely, is a strategic tool.
Creativity Breaks Through Saturation
We live in a world flooded with opinions. Every day brings a new controversy. A new outrage. A new trending topic. A new argument. Attention spans are short. Traditional protest methods still matter but often struggle to cut through the noise. Creativity changes that. Projection. Installation. Visual interruption. Something unexpected enough to force a pause.
People scroll past arguments. They stop for spectacles. The Opera House projection worked because it was visually arresting. It inserted an unscripted message into a carefully curated landscape. People looked twice. It also confirmed something important. The reaction was bigger than the act. It reminded people that public space is political space even when it’s presented as neutral.
Why it’s Worth it
Courtrooms are draining. Legal processes are slow. The stress is real. The projection itself lasted minutes. The legal fight lasted years. So why do it? Because silence is comfortable and comfort rarely produces change. The projection wasn’t about a leaf. It wasn’t about a number. It was about testing the boundaries of expression and exposing how tightly controlled those boundaries have become. It was about demonstrating that peaceful, creative dissent still has the capacity to disrupt narratives.
Would I do it again? Yes. Not because I enjoy courtrooms. Not because I crave headlines. But because public space still belongs to the public even if it’s managed as though it doesn’t. Sometimes it just takes something as simple as a 20-foot projection to remind people of that.
1 PROJECTING LIGHT ISN’T VANDALISM
Paint is. Be strategic. We’ve designed our stunts to make a statement and then vanish, leaving nothing but photos and headlines. That ephemeral touch means fewer charges and more mystery. Let your protest echo – not leave a mess.
2 KNOW WHEN TO BAIL
There’s bravery and there’s stupidity. If the vibe shifts – cops getting pushy, crowd getting reckless – get out. You don’t need to die on this hill today. Live to protest again. Not every stand is a standoff.
3 PROTECT EACH OTHER
Go in with a crew. Look out for your mates. If someone gets grabbed, know their name. If someone’s panicking, help them breathe. Solidarity isn’t just a chant – it’s how we survive this together.
4 STAY OFF YOUR DAMN PHONE
Or at least turn off location sharing, face ID and fingerprint access. The state doesn’t need help tracking you. Use encrypted apps, take screenshots not messages and don’t brag on social media until it’s done.
5 DON’T JUST REACT – CREATE
You don’t have to wait for another outrage cycle to plan your protest. Pick an issue you care about and design something smart, visual and unexpected. Make people stop scrolling. Disrupt their morning coffee. We once turned a CBD alleyway into a full, fake grow-op. No arrests. Just press.
6 REMEMBER WHY YOU’RE THERE
Protesting isn’t cosplay. It’s not a music festival. You’re showing up because something’s broken and you’re refusing to let it slide. So, mean it. Be brave, be creative, be sharp – and don’t let fear or fatigue water you down.
