Running into the HQ of a major oppressive power, face covered, identity concealed, clothing plain, making as much of a racket as possible for a cause you believe in (that usually being TikTok clout and/or personal hilarity)? We haven’t seen such action since the Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests.
Speedrunning as far as possible through Church of Scientology — an American fringe religion-slash-cult, depending on who you ask, with such teachings as humans secretly being immortal spiritual beings who can exit their own bodies at will — facilities took off late this March with a TikTok by user isDurpyy, quickly launching numerous copycats worldwide. While isDurpyy appeared to be innocently trolling in vintage Szechuan-sauce-riot style, later iterations of these speedruns began to improve upon the TikToker’s strategy. The act itself is no longer attention-grabbing enough; now, you’ll run into people wearing wild (sometimes deliberately insightful) disguises, such as Jesus Christ or Gru and his minions, shouting absurd phrases, filming at focal lengths so narrow they look like traffic cones.
The smarter participants, though, are the ones who treat it like a legitimate protest. If there’s anything we’ve learned from the past, it’s that protestors for justice are often subject to the harshest consequences. 2020’s BLM demonstrations in the wake of George Floyd’s murder were met with tear gas, pepper spray, and rubber-bullet shootings, often even during peaceful protests. Even jokes that go too far frequently end up with the cops getting called, landing otherwise innocent chronically online folk with arrest records.
Why is that a bad thing?
No one wants to serve 10 years of jail time over a TikTok. Unless you’re wealthy or have the means to escape abroad, a criminal record will bar you from many jobs (particularly the ones that pay well), licenses, housing opportunities, child custody agreements, and even college admissions. Landlords may legally be able to refuse you a rental. Your driver’s license may be suspended, or you’ll be prevented from ever obtaining one. You’ll be slammed with fines and forced to take court-ordered classes that themselves cost hundreds of dollars. That’s problematic on its own but worse so when your parents are the ones paying.
We know that socially deviant actions are the fastest way to garner online attention, but if we’re going to perform them, we may as well do it without ruining our lives. That’s not to say that we should all go about breaking into Scientologist spaces for fun. Rather, we should take what we learn from them, the balaclavas and goofy costumes, the fingerprint-concealing gloves, the creation of low-toned chaos without any actual harm, and apply it to real problems.
Be roguelike. Be silly.
Arguably, Scientology is a problem in itself. The movement, which has swept through Hollywood, is described as a cultlike financial drain, although speedrunners who hijack its facilities look to be doing so not in opposition but to garner attention by targeting an already controversial, highly meme-able organization.
But what would happen if they tackled legitimately harmful institutions?
This isn’t a call to action, but an encouragement to apply our knowledge elsewhere. Harmless speedruns through other bourgeois spaces are much more effective, even if they’re not as funny. I’d rather see a bunch of leftist minions confusing the five employees at their local sketchy think tank on my explore page.
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