Nick Folkes’s 15 minutes of fame ended on Saturday, with just 40 supporters gathered around a small barbecue at the far edge of Cronulla.
Nobody could see them. Nobody could hear them. Police outnumbered them 10 to one. Journalists just about matched them, with more than 20 reporters and cameramen at the scene. The leader of the so-called Party for Freedom drew a tiny crowd after an enormous effort from New South Wales police and the local council to prevent his 10-year anniversary memorial rally for the Cronulla riots from taking place.
Folkes had high ambitions for his rally but it was a flop. Don Lucas Reserve, which sits near Wanda Beach, is a small park well away from the main part of Cronulla. Police barricaded off the car park near it, forcing anyone attending to walk more than 200m down to the reserve. Along with the massive visible police presence of riot squads and officers, Guardian Australia also understands close to 200 additional police stationed discreetly nearby were ready to mobilise.
Folkes did not formally address the barbecue. He could not, because in doing so he could have breached the terms of a prohibition order against him in the supreme court, and separate undertakings he gave to the federal court. But he addressed the media at length and repeated the same comments about Islam and the same slogans and taglines he has used many times on his website. If you want to read his views, go to his Facebook page.
The attendees sat around a giant spit roast. It was pork, of course, and the group congratulated themselves on their hilarity. Some were defiant and argued with journalists. Others looked rather sheepish and somewhat embarrassed to be there.
An hour after it began at midday, it was all over. A few scattered speeches were given, but they could barely be heard because of the whirring news and police helicopters overhead.
The counter-protest itself, made up of mainly socialists and anarchist groups, was far larger and also far more aggressive. Police detained several protesters and forced the group back down towards the Cronulla mall. They drove them back towards the train station shortly after 1.30pm.
Most residents watching the proceedings were bemused. Some were angry. As a protester was led away by police, one man yelled: “I bet you’re not even from Cronulla. Bet you’ve never even been down here before.”
Folkes is without doubt an unusual character. And for the record, he’s not from Cronulla. He lives in the inner west suburb of Rozelle and works as an industrial painter. Guardian Australia understands he previously worked in finance.
His approach is inflammatory but also deeply childish. On Tuesday, at his first appearance at the federal court where he was self-represented, he came dressed in a long white robe, describing it as “Islamic garb”.
Friday was not a good day for Folkes. At 9.30am the supreme court judge was scheduled to hand down her decision on whether the rally could go ahead. She began promptly, and Folkes missed the judgment by a whisker; the court ruled he was prohibited from holding the public assembly.
About 15 minutes later – and 10 floors up in Sydney’s law courts building – he then had to appear for his federal court hearing. That case concerned an injunction application brought under the sometimes controversial section 18C of the Racial Discrimination Act. The parties who had sought the injunction were the local council and community leader Jamal Rifi.
This time the white robe was gone. Wearing a red shirt, jeans and a dark polka dot bow tie, Folkes decided to come to the table with the parties. He agreed to give a series of undertakings about his presence and to not hold the rally. The effect, the parties thought, would be that Folkes would not show up and the rally would be canned.
But Folkes didn’t quite stick to the script.
“I am prepared to not hold the memorial service or rally, but we’re going to hold a barbecue instead,” he said.
The council’s barrister paused, taken aback for a moment. He asked whether Folkes was prepared to agree he would not address a memorial rally.
“I believe it is an unjust request but I will submit to it, your honour. But I still propose to have a halal-free barbecue on the day,” he said.
There were sniggers in the gallery. Justice Steven Rares was not amused. Folkes was asked a third question: will you agree to include on the front page of the Party for Freedom website that the 2015 Cronulla riots memorial has been cancelled?
He responded: “I do as long as I can also include the words that a halal-free barbecue will be held.”
“As a citizen and as a free man of Australia, I have a right to go down there and hold a barbecue.”
Folkes could have had it far worse. The real loser of the court case was the third party, who failed to show up. Shermon Burgess, who calls himself “the great Aussie patriot”, did not appear in the federal court proceedings. Because Folkes agreed to the undertaking, he couldn’t be forced to pay costs. Burgess, on the other hand, was offered no such protection. The federal court ordered he pay the costs of the injunction application.
Despite the comparatively small presence in Cronulla itself, Folkes’s main succcess has really been through the media. Many news organisations – Guardian Australia included – have given prominent coverage to his bizarre court appearances and incendiary rhetoric. His social media following is now urging him to make a run for the Senate.
But the rally never went ahead. The replacement barbecue was a flop. And Folkes’s time in the limelight is probably at an end.
The residents of Cronulla will continue to enjoy their weekend in a way they were not able to on this day 10 years ago.
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