Canvass Badge, 1982

I don’t really have much more to say than I did five years ago, in the blog below about that first day and what canvassing in the US was like back in the 80s. Except perhaps that the story horde has grown a bit, the number of truly amazingly gifted and passionate people I’ve been lucky to work with has expanded greatly in the last five years, the organisation has both become more streamlined and effective, and despite some astounding and glorious wins, we have a healthy dissatisfaction with what we’ve achieved versus what needs to be done, and ambitions to shift into a higher gear. I’m a little greyer, a little greater of girth, but it’s profoundly satisfying to see Greenpeace is getting younger and faster, and eager to move out of its parent’s house.

Here’s what I wrote this day in 2006:

Twenty Five years ago today, I stuck my foot in a door.

It was a trick that Cathy Dees, my field manager and trainer, taught me, for ensuring that no suburban housewife in any devo turf was going to terminate my rap before I’d got to the bit about the slaughter of the harp seal pups, the big eyes, and the ask. That was the day I became a canvasser for Greenpeace.

If you’ve never gone door to door for a cause, the next few paragraphs may not mean much to you, beacuse what I’m about to say here requires first-hand experience to understand, and if you ain’t been there, you ain’t been there. But I’ll do my best to explain.

You travel with four or five companions in a car or a van to a cheap diner somewhere in the American suburbs. You have your dinner, you chit chat and gossip, your field manager tells you what issues may be hot, what Greenpeace is doing that might be on TV, what issues might be resonating in this particular neighborhood, what the organization is pushing at the moment. Then they hand out your turf map. That’s a xeroxed slip of paper you tack to the back of your clipboard with highlighting in colored pencil which shows you the confines of the area you’ll be covering. You also get a set of 3x5 cards listing any current members that are in the area so you can ask them to renew. You all plunk down money for your meal, and somehow, every single time, the pot is short and the field manager has to work it out.

Your field manager drops you off one by one on different corners. High performers get dropped off first. Personal favorites or people on a down day go out last to minimize street-time.
And there you are, somewhere in America, where the most reliable signal that someone is home is the blue flicker of a television screen on the curtains. You’re alone with a clipboard, and a map, and a job to do: convince people to join Greenpeace.
I spent two years walking up the driveways of good turf and bad in all kinds of weather, praying to see a Volvo with a bumper sticker, but often getting a pickup with an American flag decal. Canvassers are improvisational demographics experts, and after a while you could just look at a house and read the secret signs that told you if this was a potential Greenpeace member or not. Among hopeful signals, none in the 80s rivalled a Volvo in the drive with a bumper sticker of any description. If a pet came to the door with the owner, it was a piss-poor canvasser that didn’t walk away with a membership. It that pet was a golden retriever, you generally didn’t have to open your mouth: they already had their checkbook out.
The pickup truck with the flag decal was almost always a lost cause, with the one exception I can remember of a right-wing militarist who surprised me with a back-slapping, crew-cut, have-a-beer-goodbuddy kind of welcome. As it turned out, his incomplete knowledge of Greenpeace led him to believe we were an anti-Russian organization, as I slowly realized amid his paeans to our work at “going after them damn Commie whalers.” At most doors, I used whales or seals as my opening salvo, then moved on to talk avidly about our disarmament campaign and the need for a nuclear weapons test ban — the issue that brought me to Greenpeace. But on this occasion, I’ll admit, I just took his check, and gave him a heartfelt thank-you for his contribution to world peace.

There are a hundred stories. The old woman who stood silently in the door and just pointed at me with narrow eyes. The National Rifle Association member who chased me off his property with gun in hand. The ancient fellow who I believe had me confused for a Jehova’s witness (or given the look I had in 1982, Amish) when he heard the first sentence of my rap and said “Greenpeace? No thank you, I have my own religion.”

I was a decent canvasser. Not an extraordinary one, but most nights a solid deliverer of memberships and petition signatures. I say most, because every canvasser runs hot and cold. Canvassing is an emotionally draining exercise. You need to be pumped up, confident, able to convey passion and inspiration. And there’s no faking it: you have to genuinely feel it if you want to convey it to a stranger at the door. Because every door is never more than 3 seconds away from slamming in your face, and the reasons for slamming that door are infinite, the messages that will swing it open, few. There were nights that I bounded out of the car on my mission, and nights my field manager practically had to pry my hands from the upholstery to get me out into the streets. On the nights you didn’t believe in what you were doing, the evidence was measurable in dollars and cents.

The first night that I broke $500 in a night and got a ‘grand slam’ — what we called a $5, $10, $25, $50, AND the elusive $100 donation — I crawled into the van that rounded us up from our turf and said nothing. Normally, a good night makes a canvasser effusive. Everybody shares their tally. Everybody shares their stories. I remember just settling into the car seat, listening to a Genesis tune on the radio, and savoring what I’d done as the van rolled through Boston and the steetlights flickered past.

I’d convinced someone to take action to save the world. Yeah, you can say it was only a check. You can say it’s an easy way to shift the guilt and responsibility off your own plate. You can quibble about how much of that check gets lost in administrative costs. But I’d talked to people who didn’t know what Acid Rain was. I’d told people about whaling. I explained how we thought the world could get rid of nuclear weapons. I told them about people who had hope, and were acting on that hope, and needed other people to hope along with them as well. And they opened their doors, and they invited me in, and they gave me money. They voted for what I had to say. They joined Greenpeace. Maybe all they had to give was a few bucks. But a few bucks would buy a spark plug. And a spark plug would fire an engine. And an engine would drive an inflatable boat into the path of a harpoon. And those two bucks would be a part of what saved that whale. And saving that whale would be part of what was needed to save the world.

In the car that night, I felt a sense of direction my life hadn’t had until then; that I was on a path, I had something to give, and I believed in what I was doing.

I started out canvassing a couple nights a week. Then it was Monday through Saturday. Then I was volunteering in the office on Sunday too. Then I was helping out from 9am until we hit the streets at 3pm, canvassing my turf, and rolling back to the office around 9pm. When it became obvious I had to quit my day job to maintain my Greenpeace habit, I threw the I-Ching. “Work on what has been spoiled” was the hexagram that decided things. And that was that.

I stuck it out as a canvasser for almost two years, volunteering the rest of my time, before a salaried position opened up as a disarmament campaigner, and I was off the streets.

Tonight I’m up late at home after a day in the office that began at 8:45 and ended at 11pm. I’ve been working on a website that tries to convince people to take action to save the whales. It’s late and I’m tired and somehow in the 25 years since that night in the canvass van and this I’ve become older: a father, a husband, a homeowner — things that kid in that van couldn’t even imagine becoming. I’ve lived in a half a dozen countries. I’ve sailed the Arctic Circle and the Bay of Bengal. I’ve walked to ground zero of a nuclear weapons test. I’ve been to sea, I’ve gone to jail. I’ve helped set up Greenpeace offices in Rome and Moscow. I’ve had laughs and drinks and adventures and horrible mishaps and miserable experiences with some of the most inspiring people to have graced this planet and this time. And I’m still working for Greenpeace.

Andrew Davies, who has been around a while now himself, was telling some young volunteers about what 25 years in Greenpeace meant. He was trying to explain why that’s rare, and why Greenpeace has a high turnover rate in people coming and going. “If you stay too long, it makes you crazy,” he said. When I mentioned that wasn’t a very flattering comment on my mental health, he looked at me and said “Let me put it to you this way. I’m not taking it back.”

OK, point taken. I’ve spent 25 years trying to keep in balance the daily doses of despair and the general sense of hope that by making a choice to do something for the planet, people can actually achieve something for the planet. And there are days I believe that mightily, with all my being, and days I cluck with ancient pity at how naïve a 49-year-old man can be.

But I take comfort in that old Bernard Shaw chestnut: “The reasonable person adapts to the world; the unreasonable person persists in trying to adapt the world to themselves. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable person.”

In short, you gotta be crazy to try. But if nobody tries, game over.

So Cathy Dees, wherever you are, I’ll drink a toast tonight to the heights of unreasonableness you introduced me to, and for making me stick my foot in a door called Greenpeace.

Then I’ll put down my glass, and get back to work.

I was a proud participant in the SOPA protest. This website, along with 25 Greenpeace websites and every website I could influence, went dark to demand the internet remain a haven of free speech, and the free and creative playground that it is now: a safe place to put popular culture in a blender and give it a whirl, a place where We the People determined the democratic discourse, not our corporate overlords.

I was also a proud participant in the Copenhagen Climate petition — the worldwide attempt to hold world government’s feet to the fire of public opinion and set them skedaddling to do something about — you remember it — that slow cook problem facing our froggy planet in it’s pot of warming water on the fossil– fueled range.

When I compared these two global mobilizations, it left a bad bad taste in my mouth. In a matter of not even weeks, the internet stood up to save itself from certain death in numbers that made the Copenhagen effort look like a nursing home petition to enlarge the bingo cards.

We — and when I say “we” I mean You, I mean Me — rightly accuse governments of having their priorities back-asswards when they can find trillions of dollars to bail out banks within months, but balk at the 10 million over three years they agreed to put down to save the worlds forests and buy us precious time to wean ourselves from our vodka and milk diet of fossil fuels. But what did We just do?

In 2009, a year-long effort by a huge swath of civil society raised 17 million signatures to demand climate action at Copenhagen.

Last month, in a matter of mere days We amassed more than 100 million signatures to save the internet.

The fate of the Siberian Tiger, the Orang-utan, and that most charismatic mega fauna, adorable baby homo sapiens of the future, continue their slide to oblivion unchecked. But it may be time that We simply stop talking about them, and focus on the threat that climate change poses to the wildlife that really seems to matter to all of us: LolCatz, Sneezing Pandas, and Dramatic Gophers.

Because internet freedom isn’t something we campaign on, but which we campaign *with,* I thought I might have a tough sell internally when I saw the blackout day announced on Reddit and decided we needed to be part of it. Things that fall outside of our campaign programme tend to have difficulty figuring out who can say yes to them.

But it went smooth as butter. I didn’t encounter a single person who didn’t understand the action in one, even when I had to explain what SOPA was, and who didn’t think that of course Greenpeace should be part of it.

I grabbed Zach Johnson’s excellent template from Reddit, we tweaked it just a bit, and sent it out to all Greenpeace offices inviting them to join in. 25 Greenpeace websites went dark on January 18th and were part of the largest internet protest in history.

Now, if only we could command that kind of focus and effort to stopping climate chnage. Hmm, maybe that’s a T-shirt: Save the Earth: It’s the only planet with WIFI.

RT @brianfit #SOPA is dead!!!!! Well done Buffies!!!! Best keep that wooden stake handy, though hmmm?

January 20, 2012 9:41 pm via HTC Peep

@PatrikEriksson

Patrik Eriksson

Clay Shirky explains why #SOPA won’t achieve its goals but will produce “pernicious side effects“
http://t.co/NleeU6qT”

January 18, 2012 10:59 pm via Twitter for Mac

@missy__m

Adele

█████ ██ █ ████ everything ███ █████ is ████ ██ ████ fine ████ ███ █ █████ love █████ █████ ███ your ████ ████ government #SOPA

January 18, 2012 8:31 pm via web

@jsonka

Joe Sonka

with wikipedia down all day due to #sopastrike, i realize I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING! Now I know how congress feels. #sopa

January 18, 2012 11:47 pm via WhoSay

@baratunde

Baratunde

“The problem for the content industry is they just don’t know how to mobilize people” http://t.co/U7Cqt4jh

January 18, 2012 11:37 pm via TweetDeck

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

She’s an 8 year old string bender. #SOPA would mean this video would never see daylight. http://t.co/vXAt9FZs

January 18, 2012 9:28 pm via YouTube on iOS

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

Washington Post covering the blackout. Protest is working! http://t.co/jHGbTBWG (thanks @brianfit)

January 18, 2012 3:34 pm via web

@zacharyjohnson

Zachary John⚡on

And the bartender says, that’s not a duck, that’s my intellectual property and I’m shutting down your website… #SOPAJokes anyone?

January 18, 2012 4:39 pm via TweetDeck

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

Thanks, Washington Post, for putting Greenpeace’s SOPA page in top 5! But see my comment! http://t.co/YOcnsrmx We “stole” it — openly.

January 18, 2012 3:30 pm via TweetDeck

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

Big thanks to the Zachstronaut @zacharyjohnson for the great #SOPABlackout page we’re using at #Greenpeace today.

January 18, 2012 1:30 pm via TweetDeck

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

Greenpeace’s site will be going dark in 3 hours. Find out why: http://t.co/NQi2b2B8 #BlackoutSOPA #DT @Greenpeace

January 18, 2012 10:05 am via JustCoz

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

In a nutshell, SOPA will enable corporations to effectively shut down websites that they believe are infringing their copyrights and trademarks. All they have to do is file notice (not prove to a court, but simply file notice) that their copyright has been infringed to a service provider, such as the one which registers the name greenpeace.org on the internet, and that entity has 5 days to take action to end service. If in fact there was not copyright infringement, the service provider is immune from lawsuit by Greenpeace for taking the site down or suspending any other services.

In effect, the law says that Copyright infringement is so great a crime that Corporations can play judge and jury, presume guilt, and possibly infringe civil rights, free speech, and privacy in the defense of their interests.

They can demand that search engines and social networking sites block access to the targeted site, (which will impact websites outside the US as well) and that payment services and advertisers cease doing business with the accused site. A previous provision, that internet service providers block access to the site through the domain name system, has for now been removed from the bill: a good thing, perhaps, but not if it means a better chance for the rest of the bill’s draconian measures going through.

So what’s this got to do with activism?

What happens when Amnesty International features Shell’s logo in a call to action against human rights abuse in Nigeria? What happens when Oxfam publishes a picture with the Starbuck’s logo on their website to protest that company’s action against fair trade coffee in Ethiopia? Well, it so happens that trademark infringement is part of the bill as well — and that is an open invitation to corporate abuse of SOPA/PIPA to silence critics.

At Greenpeace, we’ve managed to put some pretty serious political judo moves on some mighty corporations by leveraging their own intellectual property against them. Whether it’s spoofing VW’s most expensive superbowl ad of all time, jamming the Exxon logo, creating a Kit-Kat ad that illustrates the rainforest destruction inherent in palm-oil production, or putting up a look-alike Apple.com website, we’ve rigorously exercised our right to free speech in freely speaking out against corporate abuse of the environment. We use their own language, their own marketing, their own strength against them.

Thing is, while court case after court case has agreed with us that parody is a protected form of free speech, the Corporations at the pointy end of our Social Media attacks tend to disagree. Exxon/Esso took us to court in France over alleged copyright infringement of their logo when we did this to it:

We won.

Kit Kat famously failed when they attempted to have a video featuring their brand removed from YouTube for trademark violation — hundreds of our supporters reposted the video on other sites and their own Facebook profiles. Eventually, YouTube’s lawyer’s intervened and the video was restored.

Under SOPA, YouTube *itself* could have been shut down for hosting our Kit Kat video. Facebook could have gone dark when supporters posted our videos. Greenpeace.org would have gone dark worldwide. And Kit Kat owner Nestle never would have been compelled to revise their policy on palm oil procurement, a move which has struck a major blow to an industry which is mowing down orang-utan habitat in Indonesia to plant palm trees.

You can imagine our corporate targets twiddling their fingers and intoning “yesssss, that would be wonderful: Smithers, buy some votes, quickly.”

Which is why you need to oppose SOPA/PIPA. If you are a US citizen, write your representative. If you live outside the US, sign this petition. If you want to do more, check out these suggestions from the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

It’s time to crowd source this celebration.

So, all you people who made this happen, dammit, raise a glass of your favorite beverage this weekend to one small victory in the fight against coal and climate change. I’m talking everyone who asked Facebook to support renewable energy, who “Liked” the Greenpeace Unfriend Coal campaign, who wrote to Mark Zuckerburg, who created images, changed their profile picture, joined our world-record comment fest, dogged Facebook staff at conferences and trade shows, made videos, wrote songs, or did any of the way out wacky and wonderful things that Greenpeace supporters and Facebook fans did to make this win happen: Pat yourselves on the freakin’ back people, call up some music, Maestro, hit the dance floor and jump up and down a bit: one of the key members of the club of biggest electricity consumers on the planet has agreed to prefer renewable energy over coal in the siting of their future data centres. 3.8 million Greenpeace fans on Facebook proved themselves an irresistible force in this campaign: but it’s time we took seriously the immortal words of Emma Goldman:

A revolution without dancing is not a revolution worth having.

I’m pretty sure she was talking about the Energy [R]evolution. Dance, people, dance. The politicians may be slow as molasses, but you proved that 3.8 million Greenpeace fans on Facebook can make change happen. Celebrate.

And then, when the hangover subsides and the party wreckage has been righted, roll up your sleeves and tell Microsoft, Twitter, and Apple to take a page out of the Facebook book and adopt the same policy.

Full timeline story is here.

–From all of us aboard the Rainbow Warrior

For the next twenty minutes, I had the INSANE privilege of listening to his stream of conscience patter that bounced around the rigging and ricocheted off into realms cyberpunk, political, design, artistic, and social. He showed interest in signage and stuff that none of the tens of thousands of people who have taken the tour of the ship to date showed any apparent interest in. He was intensely interested in the chairs in the campaign office. Not particularly special chairs, I’d have thought, but something of the professor of design caught his eye, and he was tipping them up to examine workmanship and labels.

The engine room and the ship hydraulics systems, with their orderly maze of valves and pipes and wires, sent him riffing on a visit he’d made to the Large Hadron Collider at CERN. The single US style electric plug on a ship full of European standard fixtures caused him to call it the “last lonely vestige of American imperialism.” He was amused by the tiny little telex-style machines on the bridge that printed out pirate warnings and distress calls — I think largely because it’s probably been a while since he’s seen dot matrix technology at work.

In the engine room. With strange effects. Erm, thanks, Camera+

Now, this really was like entertaining geek royalty, but there’s a kicker. The guy gave me the shirt off his back. I admired his “Next Nature” shirt, which featured 200 corporate logos made of stylized animals, and showed him our supporter banner, which features somewhat similarly stylized real animals. He saw the similarity too, said “it’s a sign” and gave me his t. We had it out in the lounge that afternoon playing “guess the corporation” and remembering a study in which children recognised corporate logos at a ridiculously higher rate than they could identify basic plant and animal species.

As if entertaining one of the fathers of cyberpunk aboard a ship that looks like it sailed out of a wormhole from the future isn’t enough geek cred, I got to meet Thom Yorke of Radiohead today. He’s sitting about 10 feet away chatting with us here in the campaign office on the Rainbow Warrior as we make 10 knots across the North Sea on three sails, heading for London.

Showed Bruce Sterling around the Rainbow Warrior yesterday, sailing with Thom Yorke today. Am I the luckiest geek on the planet?

about 6 hours ago via TweetDeck

@brianfit

Brian Fitzgerald

@brianfit you most definitely are, I mean they’re JUST cyberpunk royalty and #radiohead lead singer. Nothing to write home or tweet about :)

about 6 hours ago via Twitter for BlackBerry®

@marioOlckers

Mario Olckers

Have I mentioned lately that I love my job?

Image: Tjaden/Greenpeace

Meanwhile, I’m in trouble again.

A few years back, when we started using humor on the Greenpeace website to tell campaign stories or carry messages, me and my team had to face storms of angry internal emails about that being inappropriate to the seriousness of our mission. But slowly, our internal culture caught up to the age of the viral video, and how powerfully we could extend our reach by putting the serious, solid message inside a soft and chewy candy wrapping. These days, that’s become accepted practice.

Well, I’m now seeing a storm of internal controversy over a series of videos we’re producing here on the Rainbow Warrior that reminds me of those old days as once again we’re putting out a set of communications which look unfamiliar to our internal culture. I’m talking about the “Stories from the Rainbow Warrior” and their related snippets.

So far, only two episodes and three snippets of stories in, I’ve had the following complaints from folks within Greenpeace:

1. The use of the word “fuck“
2. The fact that we show someone putting on makeup
3. Giving air time to a “spoiled brat who we shouldn’t give a mike to“
4. The fact that someone says on camera “it’s a man’s world” and leaves the impression that Greenpeace is sexist
5. Not coaching the activists to say the right things
6. Catching someone smoking on camera
7. The use of the word “fuck” (twice)
8. The fact that we’re showing a side of the organisation we usually only show to colleagues

This project was born out of a frustration among our Communications folks worldwide with the fact that for an organisation so full of stories, we’re sometimes very bad at storytelling. We love the scripted soundbite, we love the CNN moment, we love the editorial control to be able to remove anything that’s not politicly correct or portrays the organisation and our staff as anything less than mythic superheroes of environmental salvation.

When we see a camera, we pop out our collapsible pocket halo, put it on, and do the show.

But that robs our audience of a certain honest true grit that we value greatly one to one.  It hides the reality of who we are as people, with all our faults and foibles and all those human dramas that make us recognizable as human beings. On board, we swear. Some smoke. There are arguments between vegetarians and meat-eaters. There is sexism. We’re not all wise and good. We’re human beings. Personally, I don’t believe we have anything to be afraid of in sharing that.

And that’s what we’re looking to capture with this web mini-series: a new way of storytelling, without scripts or soundbites, to give our supporters an honest picture of life on board. To many who only want the polished image to go out, these look unfamiliar — we’re not staging anything, not faking anything, not editing out everything that might be controversial or confrontational or opinionated: we’re allowing a glimpse into the world of life on board that all of us love and find magical, despite the stresses and differences of opinion. We’re letting individuals speak for themselves, in a video blog format that isn’t always putting the institutional message in the face of the audience, but letting it color the background of everything we do.

In this way, we’re hoping to reach new audiences which demand and appreciate this kind of honesty, who don’t accept the well-scrubbed stories and who want real life, and who want to recognize Greenpeace as made of human beings with stories like their own — so that they can feel that they too, can be part of that story.

If you like these glimpses below the deck, behind the scenes, and off the record — please leave a comment or vote them up. And if you don’t like them, let’s have a conversation. I may be making a mistake here. I’m only human.

–Brian

P.S. Got to get back on deck now. We’re doing 12.4 knots with only 3 sails. WIND POWER!!!

We’re at port in Hamburg now, after a ride down the Elbe and across the Helgoland Bight that I’ll never forget. Late at night in the campaign office behind the wheelhouse, headphones on, a fine playlist providing the soundtrack as I worked and felt the sea start to rise. By early evening, the Rainbow Warrior was crashing through the waves like an eager dolphin. We were taking an easy pace, but I got the impression she wanted to run.

By the time I hit my bunk, around the time the midnight watch came on, I was too excited to sleep. Pablo and I are in the most forward cabin, where you feel the motion of the bow more than in the center of the ship. My bunk tossed me up and caught me, rolling slightly as the bow descended.

The German office met us in style next morning, with a flotilla of inflatable boats.

All day we had folks from the office coming aboard and doing the “look how shiny!” routine as we showed off the new ship.

And among the folks who visited were a couple old deck hands, pictured above with the “New Hands on Deck” Pablo, Harmony, and Helene.

That’s Rien Achterberg on the left and Gijs Thieme on the right. They’re among the legendary activists to come out of Greenpeace Netherlands, a powerhouse of the early days of Greenpeace in Europe. When they walked on board I grabbed the young’uns and said “Do you know who that is?”

If you’ve seen The Warriors of Waiheke, Rien recalls there his days of stopping nuclear weapons tests in the Pacific. He was aboard the first Rainbow Warrior when it was bombed in Auckland harbour in New Zealand, by French agents intent on shutting us down. He has a storied past, and was part of many other Greenpeace actions from our early days. (And if you’ve not seen the Warriors of Waiheke, seek it out. It’s a beautiful film).

Rien was cook on a trip I sailed with the Esperanza back in 2006, around Iceland to promote Icelandic whalewatching as an economic alternative to whale killing. A finer hippy one could never hope to sail with. And I NEVER use “hippy” as an pejorative term.

And if you’ve ever seen the footage of a radioactive waste barrel being dropped on a Greenpeace inflatable boat and the driver being flung into the air, that was Gijs.

The New Hands knew these fellows as dimly lit characters — legends out of our history, and when they showed up on board I was glad to be able to make a link between two generations of activism, and have them meet the guys behind those pictures.

And I hope that when Rien and Gijs meet the likes of Pablo, Helene, and Harmony, they have the same reaction I do — that the future of this organisation is in good hands.

Because these kids are the real deal. And I have a feeling that a generation down the road, one or another of these three and their fellow New Hands will wander onto a Greenpeace boat in some harbor, and someone will point to them and say “Do you know who that is?”

I’m running a Flickr Set of photos the Maiden Voyage here.

Catch our web video series “Stories from the Rainbow Warrior” and see the maiden voyage through the eyes of our newest activists, the New Hands on Deck. Follow their updates on Facebook and Twitter.