OKAY, so what if tomorrow someone finally succeeds in wrestling away the Olympic torch, outruns its army of minders, and fizzes it out with a blast from an extinguisher?

So what?

Probably nothing. They'll light another one, that's what.

For their cause, they would scale the Golden Gate Bridge or unfurl a giant banner as a helicopter from the media corps hovers over them.

Or paint their face blue, red and yellow (Tibetan colours) and scream their pent-up frustrations - so they can have their faces plastered across front pages the next morning?

Activism's dangerous seduction is a worthy cause with a kick - something that is also adrenalin-pumping, self-affirming and hip.

You are the lone voice speaking up for the oppressed, the beseeched fearlessly taking on the powers that be.

It draws upon the ache to rebel, the martyr complex, the dressed-up anti-establishment sentiment which, at a younger age, may manifest itself as torn jeans and heavy rock.

People are drawn to it for a variety of reasons, not all pure and selfless.

And in the West, there's no other bandwagon easier to hop on now than the Free Tibet wagon.

Tibet is the West's McCause.

It's 'sexy', it's exotic.

And you can't go wrong fighting for a country of monks.

This is not a criticism of the Free Tibet cause.

It is really a commentary on the way people tend to follow the Herd of Worthy Causes, and the different motives they bring to the stampede.

The serious activists are the ones you seldom see or hear.

They are the ones working quietly behind the scenes, media spotlight or not.

They know that protesting is more than about making a din.

Because there are protests that unite, and there are protests that alienate.

The first is about education. The second is about theatre.

The first is about reaching out. The second is about ego and bravado.

The first provides fodder for thought. The second is nothing but a spectacle.

In Singapore, it's the reason why Dr Chee Soon Juan's theatrics often fly over the heads of ordinary Singaporeans, the ones he wants to galvanise.

In the furore over Tibet, pro-Tibet protesters miss the effect they are having on China's young people, as Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong noted last week.

Their actions have succeeded in garnering worldwide attention, but also aroused intense anti-foreigner feelings, which young Chinese will carry with them long after the Olympic Games are over.

A protest, no matter how big or how spectacular, fails when it can't connect with an activist's audience: The middle ground.

It's that mass of unconverted and sceptical minds.

To connect, you woo them, not shock them.

Educate, and not lambast them with mindless slogans that rhyme over and over again.

This is not to say that it's wrong to hijack the Olympics.

The purists like to say don't mix politics and sport.

I say, get real.

This is the Olympics, not the school sports day.

And this is 21st-century Olympics, not Olympics BC.

There's money and power involved. Big money and big power.

And no one knows that more than the organisers themselves.

China wants to use the Olympics as a showcase of its progress and new-superpower might.

Others want to use it as a platform to highlight Tibet.

Par for the course, really.

But be savvy about it. Get the jokers out of the picture first - the crazies and the hooligans.

With them around, the cause becomes a circus.

And the fence-sitters are just going to sit tight - high on the fence, where it's the best spot to catch the action, and keep out of harm's way.

This article was first published in The New Paper on April 17, 2008

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