Just after six in the morning, they appeared as a loose group of people clearing rubbish on Nelson Street while Nina Simone was playing on a portable speaker. They were dressed in neon boots and bright scarves. Beside them, a kettle hissed. “Care Is an Act of Resistance” was the simple message on their banner.
There was no permit for this event.
Three dispersal orders and multiple formal warnings had been given by police by lunchtime. The gang was causing needless disruptions during commuter hours, the city council said. The organization claimed that they were making social and physical repairs to what others had ignored.
| Group Name | “Kindness Gang” (informal nickname) |
|---|---|
| City | Bristol, United Kingdom |
| Tactics | Public care acts, protest art, guerrilla charity, flash actions |
| Notable Interventions | Hug mobs, traffic-stopping tea stalls, corporate flower raids |
| Public Response | Admiration mixed with frustration |
| Police Reaction | Monitoring, fines, attempts to classify actions as obstruction |
| Legal Classification | Not an official organisation; informal and decentralized |
The “Kindness Gang,” as they are known locally, is not an official organization. No board of directors, no bank accounts. No webpage. Just an increasing number of pop-up actions, with or without permission, that aim to bring compassion into public spaces.
These unofficial meetings have increased in frequency, creativity, and provocativeness over the past year. Their goal is straightforward: demonstrate that care can be utilized strategically by doing everything from planting flower beds in abandoned parking lots without permission to serving hot beverages at bus stations in freezing weather. Subversively, at times.
They are hard for local authorities to categorize, especially Avon and Somerset Police. They don’t scream slogans, cause property damage, or act aggressively. However, they have had a particularly disruptive effect on business foot traffic, traffic patterns, and logistical planning.
They have staged a silent “reclamation walk” through a retail arcade in recent weeks, blocking the entrance to two private development sites, and replacing dozens of advertising posters with handwritten affirmations. Each participant carried a banner that read, “Kindness Has Consequences.”
The message is clear, yet the approaches are gentle.
Particular emphasis was paid to one activity in the early spring. In St George, a group of 60 people set up a booth called “Free Hugs and Honest Questions” across from a police training facility. They distributed leaflets about community-first justice systems, packed thermos flasks and biscuits, and waited.
Tea was accepted by two policemen.
Uncertain of whether this was a play, a protest, or something quite different, the others stood anxiously close by.
A middle-aged woman with a silver plait was seen discreetly setting a daffodil next to a parked police car in the video that I saw that morning. Although her gesture appeared benign, the words “You are held accountable with love” were written on her back. I was more affected by that conflict between assertiveness and affection than I had anticipated.
The “Kindness Gang” reframes protest as contribution, which is what makes it so incredibly effective. They use chalk, blankets, thermoses, and biodegradable glitter as tools. However, their disruption is genuine and becoming more apparent. Delivery vans are running late. Office workers took a detour. Public servants are uncertain if they are being ridiculed or treated with respect.
These incidents are described as “unauthorized community activity with logistical consequences” in police reports. However, legal classification has proven to be challenging. The gang does not intentionally obstruct or encourage violence. Rather, it smiles after gently causing inconvenience in the way of habit.
Supporters see the group as a welcome departure from patterns of combative protest. They are very effective at attracting attention, especially on the internet. On Instagram and TikTok, edited videos of their interventions frequently trend with captions like “Love in Action” or “Radical Softness.”
They are redefining what civil disobedience is and who gets to lead it by utilizing a style that combines mutual help and performance art.
Therapists, students, retired educators, and at least one former police officer are among their members. They purposefully stay away from titles. Roles change. For over a week, no one speaks on behalf of the organization. Ironically, this flexibility permits greater internal accountability while significantly increasing legal liability.
Fans are not universal.
Numerous local companies have complained, claiming that unexpected gatherings and obstructed roadways affect sales and pose safety risks. According to a Broadmead company owner, the group’s activities are “well-meaning but increasingly exhausting.”
“They give out herbal tea while I’m losing money,” she continued. Although it isn’t wicked, it isn’t sustainable either.
However, the group’s expansion indicates that their attraction is still strong.
They are changing the emotional tone of civic action through strategic cooperation and nonviolent visibility. Their strategy, which is very inexpensive and incredibly intricate, questions the distinction between performance and protest. They prefer handwritten placards that read, “Justice Begins With Presence,” over catchphrases like “No Justice, No Peace.”
A few cops have quietly acknowledged that they are bewildered by the group. Unlicensed joy is not something they are trained to handle.
The gang thrives on that misunderstanding. Both the public and law enforcement experience cognitive dissonance as a result of their operations, which fall somewhere between disruption and benevolence. Are they there to assist? To make fun of? To divert attention?
Who you ask will determine the answer.
Organizations like these might come under more scrutiny in the upcoming years as regulations tighten and protest laws become more stringent. However, their message—that tenderness can exert just as much pressure on systems as strength—offers a very creative model for public involvement.
“If kindness makes you uncomfortable, let’s ask why” was the message of one of their most recent signs, which was positioned against the railings outside the civic center.
It was purposefully left in the rain after being laminated and tied with twine. The following morning, it remained. a little wilted. yet still readable.
