(Image: Supplied)

The party was over. After more than a week of protests, the Convoy to Canberra had peaked with an estimated 10,000 flag-flying, placard-carrying attendees making their way to the nation’s capital. 

Much like the Canadian “Freedom Convoy” protests that had inspired them, there had been days of protesters gumming up the city’s streets with marches against mandates, vaccines and a grab-bag of other grievances and conspiracies. 

Now, police were telling campers at the Exhibition Park In Canberra (EPIC) that they had to move on to clear the way for the upcoming Royal Canberra Show. Already, attendees who had made the trip for the weekend had begun to leave. There was no consensus on where to go next. 

In the aftermath of the protests, participants’ dreams of a political upheaval or a full-blown revolution began to crash into the reality of an ad hoc movement built on misinformation and bluster. Soon, an exuberant and rebellious congregation of thousands led by people promising they were on the cusp of victory over evil dissolved into scattered pockets of increasingly frustrated people left wondering what was next. 

Ostensibly, the Convoy to Canberra was a failure because protestors didn’t get what they asked for. The five demands created by one of the major Telegram channels used to organise the protests — which included dismissing all members of Parliament; ending all vaccine mandates and state emergency powers; and opening all borders — were not accomplished. Nor were other objectives voiced by the more extreme and fringe attendees, some who spoke of vaguely violent demands. 

Protesters didn’t seem to mind. They revelled in the “protest-ival” atmosphere and attention. Numbers of attendees grew as the days went on, giving the protests a sense of building momentum (although not the hundreds of thousands or millions that many of the overexcited attendees estimated). 

Celebrities in the so-called “freedom” movement broadcast on their Facebook pages and Telegram channels that they were joining the protests over the weekend. The mainstream media gave them wall-to-wall coverage. Politicians like Prime Minister Scott Morrison were forced to acknowledge their existence. A handful of protesters were even signed in as a stunt by United Australia Party (UAP)’s Craig Kelly. That their attempts to deliver a letter of demands to the prime minister, opposition leader and speaker of the house were stymied didn’t stop the envoys from receiving cheers from protesters assembled outside when they came out.

The week’s events were personally gratifying for attendees too. Self-styled influencers and journalists who livestreamed and posted on social media platforms were rewarded with a frenzy of likes, comments and shares from people around Australia and the world supporting them. Others spoke of their elation to be surrounded by like-minded individuals. One older woman, sitting on a camp chair and drinking white wine at the campground, told Crikey that it was a “sense of community” that had brought them together. ANU PhD candidate Simon Copland says this group bonding over shared worldview is an example of “intimate public”. 

Egos, paranoia and indecision divides Convoy to Canberra protesters

But it wasn’t long before that sense of community was pierced. Cracks had been evident in the lead-up to protests on Saturday, February 13. With a constantly rotating cast of contrarian and conspiratorial characters who bristle at authority, it’s hard to pinpoint the exact factions but during the week people had begun to fall in line behind two groups with informal leaders. The first was former porn and sex addict and former Qantas pilot Graham Hood, who was brought into Parliament by Kelly. The second, Riccardo Bosi, is a full-blown conspiracy-believing former Special Forces officer who repeatedly said that politicians and media will “hang” for their conduct during the pandemic. Hood’s references to his Christian faith and and his willingness to work with the UAP were criticised by some in the movement as preaching and shilling. As a result, duelling protests were set up side by side.

Attitudes towards Kelly’s UAP — which he claimed had paid for infrastructure, food and drinks — had also begun to sour. While a number in the movement have joined the party to stand for the federal election, others claimed that Kelly was a stooge or that he and Clive Palmer were despised members of the elites. One message sent out just as the Convoy to Canberra was kicking off claimed that a meeting of different so-called freedom groups supporting the protests had decided that no “political politicians” should attend.

This division came to a head when protesters were set to face eviction from EPIC. Many had already left on Sunday, including some of the movement’s loudest voices, which drew criticism from a smaller group of observers and protesters who committed to stay. Some, hopped up on bombastic speeches promising to “hold the line” until the government folded, wanted to stay and were willing to take action. One livestreamer unwittingly walked into a meeting where a crowd of protesters were discussing how to foil attempts to evict them, including efforts to blockade themselves within the campgrounds. But in the end, most left as police arrested just three protesters who refused to leave. 

Chaos reigned as the movement’s leaders and organisers promised to find new places for protestors to stay legally and rarely delivered. Splinter groups headed in different directions. Hundreds illegally camped at the Cotter campground, before soon being moved on by police again (four were arrested after refusing to comply). Others went to another supposed safe haven, Caloola Farm, which soon was the subject of an eviction letter by the ACT government despite claims that protestors had come to an agreement that would allow them to camp. Some more still had found other campgrounds or caravan parks to stay. 

Dispersed and disorganised, the figures in the movement who remained in Canberra and its surroundings battled to keep protestors focused, facing challenges such as lack of internet connection at their campsites and conflicting strategies. 

Convoy to Canberra leaders defend against allegations of unaccounted donations

Questions about what happened to tens of thousands of dollars that flowed into the movement lingered over post-Convoy discussions. Clearly, some money was used to support the protestors. Camping, stages, toilets, kitchen equipment and some people’s fuel had been paid for. A self-appointed finance team for the protests had promised to use donations to establish a sustainable movement. In one Instagram video in early February, two protesters, Billy and Kathy, said that they already used money sent to a protest PayPal account to organise barristers, accountants, event organisers and even IT specialists.

“We encourage people to bring cash with them and we’ll collect them in buckets,” they said.

An initial GoFundMe campaign that vaguely pledged to fund the protests was frozen and then removed by the platform. An alternative fundraiser on GiveSendGo raised more than $9000, but their last update a week ago says they haven’t distributed any money as they haven’t received it yet. A website belonging to another Telegram channel that organised the protests still promises to show a transparent record of expenditure but has yet to provide it. 

Luke Cole, who identified himself as the leader of the financial team, told The Canberra Times that more than $20,000 had been put into a donation tin that was passed around the campsite. He claims that his team had documented every donation and expenditure, but that another faction who promised to buy land for protestors to stay on had also taken money that was unaccounted for. Another person who emerged as a loud voice during the protests, Wollongong-based concreter Dave Graham, also known as “Guru”, posted a video as he drove out of Canberra of him pointing his finger at Cole as being responsible for unaccounted donations. Others, including one Telegram user who claimed to have personally deposited $5,000 into the account of Western Australian doomsday prepper and protest organiser James Greer, asked what had happened to the money. As of yet, the calls for transparency for the finances remain few and far between. 

The personal toll for Convoy to Canberra attendees

Convoy to Canberra attendees also began to feel the effects of the protest. After spending days in the harsh Canberra summer sun, sleeping, eating and living in a heavily trafficked and poorly maintained campsite, and rubbing shoulders with thousands of COVID-19 sceptics, many started to report lethargy, headaches, sore throats, skin irritation and other symptoms. A Facebook group with 1400 members was created to share dozens of reports and gruesome photographs of various “adverse reactions” that they had attributed to be from the protests. 

Much like the freedom protests before this, those who were sick chose to believe that their symptoms — consistent with COVID-19, heat stroke, sunburn, tinea and other afflictions which all would have been likely candidates  — were signs of something more sinister. Members of conspiracy groups pointed the finger at the Australian Federal Police (AFP) using long-range acoustic devices (LRADs), a riff on a common conspiracy trope of sonic weapons. This week, Coalition Senator Alex Antic, One Nation Senators Malcolm Roberts and Kelly all used their positions as parliamentarians to try to find out whether this was the case. (The AFP confirmed they had used LRADs but to broadcast messages and not as a weapon. Even the weaponisation of LRADs would not explain the symptoms described by attendees.)

Sick, fractured, out of pocket and disorganised, those people inhabiting the online communities used to organise the protests appeared to lose enthusiasm, according to online observers of the movement who spoke to Crikey. An online poll in one of the major conspiracy Telegram channels said that about only one in four respondents were going to attend a future event. Infighting had broken out between leaders, who had gone from jubilation to exhaustion and dejection. 

But while questions remain about the direction of the movement, unaccounted finances and who will help the dedicated few who are vagrant and sick, there’s always one response: more protests. In typical fashion, multiple events have been planned for Canberra in the future, including two this weekend. 

“Let’s make sure Canberra & the nation remember why we are here,” one poster read.