On the last Friday of every month, a group of fully costumed bicyclists takes to the streets of New Haven in protest. October’s ride, part of the national Critical Mass movement advocating for better city rules for bicyclists, is the largest one in New Haven, partly because of its proximity to Halloween. The ride is organized through New Haven bike stores such as Elm City Cycling and The Devil’s Gear, which attract participants by advertising with notices attached to parked bicycles all over Yale campus. Despite the amount of planning, the announcement on Elm City Cycling’s website emphasizes that Critical Mass is “an unorganized coincidence.”

This sort of planned—but seemingly spontaneous—event is known as a flash mob, and normally takes the form of political activism, performance art, or a social gathering. Flash mobs aim to attract attention, but are not to be conflated with publicity stunts. They aim to make people think about the world around them—political issues (like laws regarding bicyclists), what defines a space, or how we interact socially. The New York City-based group Improv Everywhere participated a flash mob in which roughly 200 people froze in the middle of Grand Central Station, causing throngs of commuters to stop for a minute and recognize their surroundings. The video of this incident has attracted just under 20 million hits on YouTube. Events such as silent dance parties (in which large groups of dance together to individualized music with their headphones on) and block-wide pillow fights are often considered flash mobs. These social events are not meant to be exclusive—anyone can participate—but to change a space entirely. One pillow fight in New York City last year left Wall Street covered in loose feathers.

At Yale, political groups are gradually adopting flash mob techniques. They have two functions: to freeze university activity and to catch attention. Last Monday, the Undergraduate Organizing Committee (UOC) took over the Yale Investments Office on 55 Whitney Ave. when, dressed as maids, they swept the floors and whipped out the Windex to protest what they consider Yale’s immoral investment in HEI Hotels (a company that the UOC alleges is cutting costs at the expense of workers). The UOC’s tactics, said member Hans Schoenburg, MC ’11, are designed “to shake up Yale students, so they will look at Yale’s situation in a new light.”

Other political student groups, like Students Against New Coal, are combining tactics like on-campus opinion pieces with flash mob-type approaches such as using the bodies of volunteers to spell out “350” (the number of parts per million to which environmental groups want to limit Greenhouse gases). These approaches are not meant to be confrontational. As organizer Rachel Payne, SY ’12, said, “Our protests thus far have been shows of consensus, not shows of force.”

The fraternity Alpha Epsilon Pi (AEPi) does flash mob-like dance-a-thons in black jumpsuits to raise money for one brother who—after being hit by a car—fell into a coma several years ago. Edward Delman, SY ’12, said that when he danced last year in front of Commons Dining Hall, he would answer people who asked him why he was dancing, “Because, I’m La—a (pronounced Ladasha), and I do what I want!” Though very silly and not quite political in its thrust, this adoption of social flash mob techniques shows not just how effective spontaneous body-shaking can be at attracting public rumination, but at actually raising money and campus-wide awareness.

One striking difference between this form of political activism and protest is how varied the gamut of causes is. Though the UOC, Students Against New Coal, and YHHAP each represents what may be considered a typically liberal political cause, they are not united or coordinated by any larger political group that can motivate more students than one group individually. This trend is a major departure from student protest techniques of the ’60s or ’70s which—under umbrella organizations like Students for a Democratic Society—grouped blanket liberal causes into massive, highly visible protests. The nature of flash protests, meant to capture attention on a more momentary, quotidian basis, reflects this singular focus. Especially here at Yale, groups that organize flash mobs tend to be insular and not focused on recruiting participants from throughout the University community.

When asked to comment on Yale’s policy regarding political protests and rallies, Dean of Student Affairs Marichal Gentry referred to the ever-applicable Yale Undergraduate Regulations Handbook. The regulation with regard to public political events only permits protests and other peaceful demonstrations if they are pre-approved in terms of “schedule and location by the appropriate University official.” This means that spontaneous-seeming events like flash mobs cannot be recognized as legitimate political expressions at Yale, even if they do not actually disrupt the flow of day-to-day activity.

Of course, many Yale approximations of flash mobs are not high-minded at all. Floating dance parties are organized regularly, and AEPi has rushees run into classes dressed as Moses and crying unto the professors, “Let my students go!” On Thurs., Oct. 1, for instance, volunteers ran into Professor Amy Arnsten’s Brain and Thought class in zombie costumes moaning, “Brains!” and “Thought!” Despite the event’s lighthearted tone, the zombies’ cerebral war cry followed the mission of flash mobs—to make people stop and think. By forcing people to notice them through outrageous tactics, flash mobs can occasionally draw more than the casual laugh: They can bring attention to a handful of issues on-campus and off.