The clarifying power of nonviolence

The clarifying power of nonviolence

by Andrew Moss

765 words

There is a clarifying power to nonviolence.

When Dr. Martin Luther King was jailed in Birmingham in 1963 for protesting racial segregation in that city, he declared that such protests were needed to create a “constructive nonviolent tension” that would lift individuals out of the “dark depths of prejudice and racism.” As he explained, “the purpose of the direct action was to create a situation so crisis-packed that it will inevitably open the door to negotiation.” 

Today that clarifying power has been put to work in a new context, and, in many respects, to new effect: defining with great clarity the nature of the struggle now being fought out in the nation. This is not simply a conflict between Republicans and Democrats, or even between democracy and authoritarianism. At the most basic level, this is a clash between cultures of nonviolence and violence, with authoritarianism manifesting the most extreme version of a culture driven by the will to harm.

A good part of that clarifying energy has been seen in the thousands of largely peaceful protests that have taken place across the country, with millions of people demonstrating against ICE brutality, the firings and union-busting of federal workers, and the cutting of vital human services in the nation’s safety net, from health care to nutrition, from education to housing and jobs training. 

Millions of protesters raised awareness of the harms inflicted by the Trump administration, building momentum as they marched and rallied in protests that grew in size from three to five to seven million over the course of several months. These marches and rallies helped inspire voters to turn out in the November elections and defeat Trump-backed candidates and issues in New York, New Jersey, Virginia, Mississippi, and California, among other regions of the country.

 These millions of protesters pressured Senate Democrats not to cave during a 43-day government shutdown, as Democrats faced down Trump over a funding bill that would allow immense cuts to Medicaid and significantly increase premiums for the Affordable Care Act (ACA). The shutdown, in turn, brought into ever sharper relief the violence that defines authoritarianism. Donald Trump not only refused to negotiate with Senate Democrats over Medicaid and the extension of ACA subsidies; he cut off funding for food assistance (SNAP benefits) for 42 million Americans. He did so, creating immense harm and stress for millions, despite the fact that sufficient funding did exist to cover benefits.

The basic impulses of authoritarianism became utterly clear, if they hadn’t already become so: threaten, inflict pain; force submission. 

Senate Democrats did submit, at least eight of them. One of the eight, Tim Kaine of Virginia, wrote an newspaper column explaining his vote this way: “I have close knowledge of key actors, and I do not believe Republicans would have conceded on health care during the shutdown.” He went to say, “I believe that we will win this health care fight – either in Congress or at the ballot box in 2026.”

Never once in this column did Mr. Kaine use the word “authoritarianism” or refer to the violence at its core. Never once did he acknowledge the real power at his back (had he and the other seven only availed themselves of it): the power of millions who had marched and voted, millions who gave Senate Democrats a mandate to stand firm on the human right to decent, affordable health care.

A more intense struggle undoubtedly lies ahead, as the weaknesses of the Trump administration, and Trump’s deep unpopularity across the nation, may drive him and others to desperate, more violent measures in the effort to retain power. In response, a culture of nonviolence must continue to flourish and grow as more people engage in ways of protecting themselves, their families, their communities, and democracy itself.

For many of these individuals, it will be sufficient to show up and to experience new forms of solidarity with friends, neighbors, and strangers. For others, engagement may also mean the beginnings or re-startings of a journey: the acquiring of a new language, the learning of new ways of thinking about community, justice, and peace. Engagement may entail the recognition that it takes courage to be nonviolent – and that weakness often lies behind the impulse to violence. It may mean understanding how one concentrates on defeating injustice, not the adversary. It may open pathways to deeper understandings of our interdependence with one another. 

And engagement may reveal, too, a clearer vision of the healing work that will remain – the healing of a nation, a democracy, a planet – long after this administration has departed from power.

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Andrew Moss, syndicated by PeaceVoice, writes on politics, labor,and nonviolence from Los Angeles. He is an emeritus professor (Nonviolence Studies, English) from the California State University.