Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. There is an idea, Mr Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof,” expounds the enigmatic hero of V For Vendetta. They call him V, this mysterious, maverick character who now finds his image permeating the streets of cities all over the world, the iconic Guy Fawkes mask the new face of global political protest.

In the film, V champions the causes of revolution and revenge against a futuristic, totalitarian, fascist state. “People should not be afraid of their government; the government should be afraid of its people!”, the anarchist cries, as he calls for the destruction of the Houses of Parliament and encourages the British people to rule themselves.

And now the face of this notorious radical pervades the global landscape of political protest. That coy, theatrical grin is repeatedly splashed across our front pages, largely in connection with the current worldwide ‘Occupy’ movement and the internet hacking group, ‘Anonymous’.

From outside St Pauls and the London Stock Exchange to Wall Street, Rome, Guadalajara, Bucharest, the protests have seen a global generation mask-up and be counted.

Some call it an anti-capitalist movement, a revolt against corporate greed and social and economic disparity. Others are critical, discounting this gesture of anonymity as nothing more than a form of anarchic nihilism which is of little relevance within the context of democracy.

For what place does anonymity have in the world of democratic protest? Does our freedom of speech not merit a freedom to identify ourselves with our expressed beliefs? Clearly not all protestors feel the need to mask their identities (as proved by the theatrical disruption of Willetts’ speech). In fact, in Germany, anonymous protest is a criminal offence.

Are these protestors not in danger of impinging their own freedom of expression, of creating a farce of political protest? Of course not.

Firstly, these protestors are of course identifiable. The mask paradoxically grants the wearer both a sense of individual anonymity and belonging to a greater cause. The slogan, “we are the 99 percent” speaks for itself.

And so what if the mask has created a form of political carnival? If artistic statements are allowed to be political, why shouldn’t political statements be artistic? Any element of farce in the donning of the mask and the manipulation of popular culture within the realms of the political field should really be interpreted not as an act of indiscretion, but as a form of artistic parody, a subversive attack on the state of Western democracy.

In the words of wise old Oscar Wilde: “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

Through the use of the mask, the cult of anonymity succeeds in questioning and to a certain extent undermining the idea of our ability to engage successively with global politics, to be heard and to bring about change despite the great technological developments of the last decade. This adoption of a unifying persona seeks to symbolise a shared sense of disaffection and a growing fear of disassociation; to make a statement which reflects the paradoxical anonymity and facelessness of the internet generation.

This imaginative allusion to anarchy is refreshing in a society whose political world is truly uninspiring, and so far removed from that of the emerging electorate that society is now faced with an estranged, disillusioned and (physically) masked youth.

What is significant is therefore not the question of style over substance, but an appraisal of the role that the aesthetics of invention and creation can play in the political field. In the potent words of V: “Artists use lies to tell the truth, whereas politicians use lies to cover it up.” Thus, this convergence of the artistic and the political should be considered with the utmost relevance.

To conclude we should see the wearing of the mask less as a form of superficial, vainglorious exhibitionism and more as an act of selfless subjugation in favour of a collective identity and cause, or at least a point of identification and unification. Behind the disguise of this iconic, mysterious and carnivalesque façade, lies, as V himself suggested, a “bulletproof” ideal; in this case, a basic desire for a voice, a voice which demands liberty and parity.

V sniggers at “the paradox of asking a masked man who he is”. And perhaps he is right. Mask up, mask up, my friends.