How to Blow up a Pipeline and Radical Cinema

Still from How to Blow Up a Pipeline. Image: Atmos Magazine

SPOILERS THROUGHOUT for: How to Blow up a Pipeline, Clearcut, and Uptight

Upon a rewatch of Daniel Goldhaber's How to Blow up a Pipeline, based on the nonfiction book written by Andreas Malm (which I am yet to read), I quickly learned that the book itself acts as a manifesto for Malm's views. This prompted my exploration of the term 'radical cinema', and to take a dive into the realm of films largely considered to be such. With this blog having an environmental skew, I of course chose to focus on films centred around climate activism and environmental crises.

The story of How to Blow up a Pipeline follows an assortment of young environmental activists, ranging from city-dwellers to rural countryfolk from across the US (including as far as Chicago and North Dakota), who come together to plot the sabotage and bombing of an under-construction oil pipeline in Texas. Each activist has a primary motive, which ranges from greater good to personal interest, with the majority leaning towards the latter. A common theme in climate cinema is activism in the form of direct action, and how it treads the intersection between terrorism and self preservation/defence. I have previously written on real world implications of direct action in the face of a larger force, and I'd like to expand on this further in the context of film.

For starters, How to Blow Up a Pipeline is nowhere near the first, nor last film to tackle individuals taking direct action in the name of the environment or a greater societal purpose. Environmental issues and activism have been staples of cinema over the years, often used as an allegory for greater societal issues, or direct confrontations of the negative effects of human activity on the surrounding environment. Relevant examples include Silent Running (1971), Clearcut (1991), Night Moves (2013), and First Reformed (2018) among many.

What makes a film 'radical'? In politics, what qualifies a person or a view as radical is often characterised by inherently straying from the spectrum of the socio-political majority, and inciting direct action, sometimes violently. They reject the status quo and intend on forging a new order. In the context of film, it could be argued that any film directly confronting or primarily focusing on people combating the source of their political grievances can be considered radical. However, this also presents the issue of depiction from people with centrist or neoliberal views. Can you be radically neoliberal?

The depiction of radical characters and subjects through the lens of neoliberalism may skew or water down the matter at hand, and instead resort to the application of respectability politics, a tool often used by and centered around the white bourgeouise to trivialise and limit the expression of marginalised communities when articulating their struggles.

Disappointing but not surprising. Image: UpWorthy

An ensemble piece, How to Blow Up a Pipeline is comprised of majority BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, Person of Colour) actors, with the inclusion of an LGBTQ relationship. The mere centring of people from marginalised demographics in a film depicting drastic action against environmental damage inherently places this film in a position that more closely reflects reality; people of colour have historically been the driving force behind many forms of activism, despite their white counterparts often chosen by the media and wider society to be the faces of such stories. For instance, a recent real life example is Ugandan climate activist Vanessa Nakate, who was notoriously cropped out of a group photo with fellow young activists, inculding Greta Thunberg, by Associated Press in January 2020 (pictured). Systematically, BIPOC are significantly more likely to be affected by the resulting effects of climate change and environmental damage and catastrophe (Hurricane Katrina, xAI data centres in Memphis, Dakota Access Pipeline, water pollution in Flint, Michigan). It would only make sense, from a realistic point of view, that the group facing direct harm be diverse.

In a world where environmental destruction is at an irreversible and incomprehensible scale, can direct action even be considered radical? In many such cases, it could be seen as self defence, as stated in the final words of How to Blow up a Pipeline. This brings me to the 1991 film Clearcut.

Still of Arthur from Clearcut (1991). Image: Letterboxd

Clearcut is a film that brings forth the issue of activism in its most direct and drastic form: abducting and torturing the head of a logging company that's destroying the remainder of your tribal land. Once you're as little as five minutes into Clearcut, it dawns on you that the title is a grim play on words: to clearcut is to practice the highly controversial and extreme method of logging, where entire forests are razed in order to clear the land and replace it with plantations or other spaces designed exclusively for human use, such as golf courses.

Contrasting How to Blow Up a Pipeline, Clearcut is positioned through the eyes of Peter, a white Canadian lawyer who failed a case to protect native land from loggers and land developers. The film not only explores the moral complexities of violently retaliating against colonial powers, but also the inevitable consequences that come with attempting pacifism in a demonstrably non-pacifist world. This theme was touched upon briefly in How to Blow up a Pipeline: though a crucial component in the operation, Alisha serves as the voice of realism throughout the film, noting that other people will be negatively affected by the extreme nature of their activism. A single line from one of the oil workers as Logan and Rowan prepare to detonate the bomb - "serves them right for replacing us with robots" - shows, though brief, that the film acknowledges the multifaceted nature of environmental harm and consequences reverberating throughout different levels of society; though the destruction of a pipeline provides short term relief to the activists and locals, there is of course the matter of available jobs and who does and does not have the option or capacity to turn down a career in such a field. Futhermore, in another scene where Xochitl and Shawn discuss their plan, Shawn suggests an alternative in the form of blocking roads, echoing the more socially-acceptable activities of real-world environmental activism groups such as Extinction Rebellion. Would Extinction Rebellion be considered a substantial environmental organisation in the context of either How to Blow Up a Pipeline or Clearcut? Does this all adhere to respectability politics or is it enough to make notable change? I ask you to look at real world events to decide for yourself.

Consumed by guilt, Peter accepts tribal chief Wilf's invitation to undergo a sweating ritual, in order to gain clarity of his steps and learn more about himself. In his visions he sees Arthur, another indigenous man, who, upon meeting, is incredibly resentful and defiant in the outcome of Peter's presence and failed case. Arthur serves as Peter's philosophical opposite: he has no qualms in acting upon violence and physical intimidation to prove a point. This is first demonstrated early on in the film where Arthur visits Peter in his motel room to take him on a drive. He's rejected by an exhausted Peter who instead prefers to rest, but can't because of loud neighbours. Arthur responds by breaking into the offending room and duct taping the occupants into submission, referring to their race (they are of course white) as he does so. Immediately afterwards, he takes Peter with him to abduct Bud, the openly racist head of the logging company. This sets a precedent for a series of events that will unfold as the film progresses: to what extent are Arthur's actions justified? Arthur's resentment is not too dissimilar from How to Blow Up a Pipeline's Michael, a young Native American man from North Dakota, who frequently enters fights with oil workers near their home and documents his experiments with explosive substances. His mentality is best depicted via an argument with his mother early in the film. His mother attempts to placate him by mentioning conservancies - land dedicated to preserving local plants, animals and culture, which are often intended for Native American communities and poorly funded by the US Government - as a source of hope. Michael immedately rejects her: "It makes white people feel better. It makes you feel better". The likening of his own mother to white people as a collective implies she has grown apathetic and potentially complacent with the ongoing developments; she may have been more emotionally invested in her younger years but has been worn down by time. This contrasts greatly with Clearcut, where the audience is met almost instantly with protests from angry locals of all ages.

I've seen Clearcut referred to as 'revenge cinema', which I find an apt description. Not only does the title serve as a reference to the harsh reality of damage caused by land development and cultural erasure, it also refers to the moral implications brought about by the film's subject matter: Peter may be sympathetic to the people he represents in court and believes himself to be morally just, but he leaves behind him a string of similar failed cases; regardless of the outcome he always receives a profit and his clients are left to pick up the pieces in the face of collective suffering. Arthur is directly affected by the destruction of his land and is of course a victim, but does skinning the leg of one man and killing two police officers do anything to truly benefit him and his community? Perhaps the most emblematic interaction between Peter and Arthur's conflicting philosophies is in the scene where Peter threatens to end Arthur's life, and the latter responds by sticking his knife in a nearby branch and instructs Peter on how to properly take a life. Bringing into question the more establishment-friendly method of pacifism coming from a white man who benefits from settler colonialism vs violent resistance and retaliation from an indigenous man whose home is being destroyed, Peter physically attacks Arthur and ultimately sides with Bud, the man directly responsible for the ongoing destruction of Arthur's home. By breaking his pacifist philosophy, he reinforces Arthur's - and many indigenous Canadians' - established and unwilling status of victimhood.

Despite its conversation on morality, the environment, and identity, Clearcut ends on a definitive note: as uncomfortable as it is to witness the abduction and torture of the two men, the sentiment prevails throughout the film: what Peter and Bud go through is nothing compared to the long and pervading harm experienced by indigenous people around the world (distinctly and especially in this case being the First Nations people of Canada). Though expressing solidarity and empathising to the point of representing them legally, Peter proves himself at the end of the day to just be another white man in a colonial system built for him and others like him.

Uptight is a film that arguably has nothing to fo with the environment. Its inclusion serves the purpose of addressing another point being made regarding radical cinema, which requires a broader scope. A key theme of this film is betrayal, and how collective efforts can be undone by as little as a single actor, an important factor in radical direct action and how fragile such efforts can be. A remake of The Informer (1935), Uptight is set in 1960s America following a group of black revolutionaries in the midst of the civil rights movement and Dr Martin Luther King's assassination. With a cast made up almost exclusively of real-life activists and academics, Uptight wastes no time letting the audience know where it stands.

Still from Uptight (1968). Image: Youtube

Tank, the protagonist (and functional antagonist), is a recently released alcoholic convict who supports the non-violent methods of Dr Martin Luther King. He remains connected with his peers, including de facto leader Johnny, who are significantly more militant. His unreliable and erratic behaviour leads to the interception and murder of Johnny - a wanted man - by the police, after informing the authorities for a small financial reward. The culmination of Tank's increasingly detrimental actions towards both himself and his revolutionary peers sends a sobering message: "skinfolk don't mean kinfolk". This term, popularised by African American writer Zora Neale Hurston, is a colloquialism of the oft harsh reminder that even though another person may experience similar of not the same forms of oppression as you, it does not make an ally of them. There will always be others who elect to act against their own interests for the sake of short term gratification or validation of the dominant power.

Differing to Clearcut, where the betrayer to the cause is a white man with a respected career and sense of direction, Uptight's depiction of disloyalty penetrates deeper; Tank represents a self destructive faction among the disenfranchised within the African American community. His warranted exile from the group triggers an extinction burst; all forms of capital Tank previously had is now gone: economic in the form of his job, cultural, which he did not have much of to begin with, and now social, with the separation of his strongest social connections. The death of Martin Luther King in the backdrop of the story emphasises the futility of peaceful methods in seeking liberation. Rather than act in kind as Arthur has to the violence of hegemonic society, Tank decides instead to resign himself to immediate pressures born entirely by his own doing. Even with the newfound capacity to repay Laurie and the opportunity to donate to militant street preachers, he instead goes to a bar and brazenly purchases alcohol for everyone in the vicinity. He could spend the money on essentials, but goes to an arcade and drunkenly discloses all his inside knowledge to a group of white people who may or may not be undercover secret service. Where Peter's betrayal is expected, Tank's is disillusioning. It is ironic that, in the end, the only ally the revolutionaries had was the white man who was turned away, only to inform them of the police closing in on Johnny.

How to Blow Up a Pipeline does something similar - Rowan, the sole white woman in the group, is shown throughout the film to be an FBI informant. She takes pictures of the others preparing barrels of explosives, and sends them updates on their progress. However, as the story proceeds, it's revealed she was simply acting according to a plan pre-established by Xochitl: Theo, who has terminal cancer, and Xochitl, who is willing to go to prison, are the only ones incriminated. Rowan's 'outwitting' of the FBI comes as an indicator of the group's (or Xochitl at the very least) awareness of social dynamics. Though Rowan already has a history with criminal activities, her gender and race are seen as valuable enough for her to be granted a second chance, granting Xochitl the opportunity to cash in on American eurocentrism and spare the others a fate in the carceral system.

How to Blow Up a Pipeline is undoubtedly a strong example of radical cinema; the destruction of the Texas pipeline is framed as a necessary action carried out in the name of desperation and greater good for the masses, as opposed to the monetary gain for the few who benefit from its existence. The creative choice of making it an ensemble piece showing the various ways in which people from many facets of society are negatively affected only drives home its message of how no one is left unscathed in the wake of large scale environmental threats. It's unfortunate to say that even halfway through the 2020's, intersectionality is considered radical in popular media. The centring of marginalised peoples in their own stories, pairing with the recurring theme of internal conflicts and moral quandries, presents a challenging approach as opposed to the homogenous standard. Would How to Blow Up a Pipeline be as effective in its messaging if it was a group of young, straight, cishet white people? Hardly. Although Clearcut is positioned from the point of view of a white man, it is done with intent. The end of the film leaves Peter left to process an experience that confronted his worldview and sense of self, while also being taken away in a police car with Wilf, the tribal chief, as opposed to Bud. Rather than have the self actualisation of the white protagonist be the focus of Clearcut, it instead challenges his position in society and ends with his punishment.

Violence is a central element of all three aforementioned films; they are responses to the varying forms of brutality endured by, and in response, expressed by the subjects of each story. A violent act does not have to manifest itself physically to harm. Violence inflicted upon the body and environment in the form of pollutants, colonial violence damaging entire cultures, systemic violence actively depriving entire demographics of their human rights. Violence in the form of betrayal. A versatile word, and existing in many circumstances, violence is a universal language. It's here and through these films that pacifism is examined and scrutinised in the context of radical action, and characters such as Tank and Peter, who pedestalise it and ultimately betray those they claim to be for.

What I'd argue is a large contributor to these films' radical status is their self awareness. In spite of the characters taking drastic action against greater and oppressive powers, the films remain aware that some harm will be done to others existing in adjacent spaces, regardless of where they stand. The refusal to paint things in a black and white nature confronts the audience's preconceived notions going in, and provides a degree of introspection not commonly seen in other forms of cinema. Compromises are made, betrayals take place, conversations are had. In Clearcut, Arthur pays two hunters to go away, yet later shoots and kills two police officers. Even in the most uncompromising of films, the message, whether or not it agrees, is present: in some contexts, small accommodations can be seen as stepping stones towards achieving the larger goal. Humans are indeed flawed, and also, to a much greater extent, are the systems they create.