Protest is meant to be noisy - today even the Suffragettes would be prescribed as extreme

History is noisy. The tranquil scratch of the monarchic pen on a law or treaty might be the act that alters its course, but these moments are generally prefaced by a much less genteel phenomenon; the theatre of protest - the political PR stunt. And what can appear as little more than disruptive chaos invariably seeds change that outlives the headlines.

That was the starting point for my new Archive on 4 documentary for BBC Radio 4, Outrage Inc - a journey back through the archives to rediscover the creative genius and conviction behind the protest stunt. Because we forget who took the risks, what it cost them and how much we owe them.

Take the Suffragettes. Today, we package them as harmless biddies in sashes and rosettes, politely marching for the vote. The reality was far more combustible. They smashed shop windows, set fire to post boxes and staged arson attacks on empty buildings.

They chained themselves to railings, endured hunger strikes and were force-fed in prison. If those tactics were deployed today, they would be denounced as extremists. Yet without their disruption, women's suffrage would not have been achieved when it was.

Fast-forward half a century and, in 1968, the Miss America pageant was disrupted by feminists, furious at its "cattle market" treatment of women. Two years later, Miss World at the Royal Albert Hall descended into chaos when flour bombs, whistles, and slogans bombarded host Bob Hope in a feminist protest that made their point more clearly than any manifesto.

Humour, when it lands, is the sharpest weapon of all. Sometimes, the best stunts are playful on the surface but deadly serious at heart. In 1993, the Barbie Liberation Organization swapped the voice boxes of hundreds of Barbie dolls and GI Joes. Little girls unwrapped dolls that growled "Vengeance is mine!" while boys got action figures chirping "The beach is the place for summer!"

It was funny and razor sharp. Overnight, parents, children and the media had to confront the absurdity of building gender stereotypes into toys, launching a national conversation.

That is the art of the stunt at its best: humour sharpened into a question that lingers far longer than the laugh. You see it nowadays in Germany's Centre for Political Beauty, who erected a replica Holocaust memorial outside the home of an AfD politician; an unavoidable reminder that some wounds must never close.

Here in Britain, we have Led By Donkeys. They hold a mirror up by projecting politicians' broken promises onto the walls of Parliament. Their Covid Memorial Wall of thousands of painted hearts along the Thames was a devastating reminder of lives lost to the pandemic. Protest does not always shout. Sometimes a whisper can be deafening.

But not every stunt is comic.

Archive footage of Tommie Smith and John Carlos at the 1968 Olympics still stuns: two black athletes, heads bowed, fists raised in the Black Power salute during the medal ceremony. They were expelled from the games and ostracised. Yet their gesture lives on, echoed in NFL players and others who subsequently took the knee.

Closer to home, the Greenham Common women of the 1980s pitched tents outside a Berkshire airbase to protest the arrival of American cruise missiles. They were mocked, vilified, and arrested. Yet their persistence forced nuclear weapons onto the front pages and into the corridors of power. That was cultural impact of the highest order. What connects all these moments is creativity. Every great stunt is the chemical reaction of two essential elements: creativity and risk. Without creativity, it is just noise. Without risk, mere novelty. But when the two combine, the result can lodge in the public memory forever.

The Suffragettes knew they would go to prison. The Greenham women knew they would be arrested. Tommie Smith and John Carlos knew they were sacrificing their careers. Young activists today risk criminal records that will shadow them for life.

Protest has never been safe. That is why it matters. The question for 2025 is how much of this history we have forgotten. Disruption is tightly policed. Social media amplifies outrage while making it easier to monitor dissent. Are we in danger of losing sight of the creativity and conviction that made these moments so potent?

• Outrage Inc is on BBC Radio 4 on Saturday at 8pm then on BBC Sounds