Editor’s note: This commentary is by Greg Guma, the Vermont-based author of “Dons of Time,” “Uneasy Empire,” “Spirits of Desire,” Big Lies, and “The People’s Republic: Vermont and the Sanders Revolution.” His latest book is “Green Mountain Politics: Restless Spirits, Popular Movements.”
[W]hen we talk about the America Revolution, the stories are often about military clashes or personal acts of courage in dangerous circumstances. This concept of our early history may account for the widespread identification of radical change with violence in the United States.
In reality, America’s original revolution, like many political upheavals, was largely a nonviolent liberation movement that spanned more than a decade. Certainly there were armed struggles, but the real transformation came from the building of substitute governments and massive resistance that led to virtual economic self-sufficiency before bullets were fired.
The power of Britain over the colonies was undermined between 1765 and 1776 by nonviolent civilian campaigns such as tax resistance, boycotts, hunger strikes and nonimportation agreements. It was a powerful outpouring of conscience and direct action, similar in many ways to the abolitionist and civil rights movements, and later Gandhi’s crusade to free India.
Today the world is again experiencing a growing movement of resistance and conscience. In response to “illiberal” and authoritarian regimes, millions in the Americas, Europe and Asia have been joining together in demonstrations, marches, and other mainly nonviolent activities to stop the threats these governments pose to freedom and global survival. While most of these people support initiatives to reduce nuclear, democratic and environmental dangers, many also have a clear sense — call it skepticism or realism — that neither climate change, military adventurism nor racial intolerance can be reversed by the use of traditional political channels alone.
If that’s true, what will it actually take? Maybe the same kind of active resistance that has been crucial in past movements for freedom and justice.
In the early 1980s, for example, Americans voted and spoke out overwhelmingly in favor of halting nuclear weapons production and deployment. During this period, Vermonters and others voted to freeze and reduce nuclear arms, cut military aid to repressive regimes like El Salvador, and transfer federal funds from military spending to programs that would create more jobs and meet social needs.
In the face of such sentiments across the country, as the federal government proceeded with the development of first strike weapons such as the Cruise, Pershing II, Trident II and MX missiles, many moved from the halls of government to the streets. Churches and religious activists in particular were deeply concerned about what they viewed as idolatry of weapons. In the face of such militarism, the message of many religious traditions was similar: obedience to government cannot be absolute, and we must discriminate when human law conflicts with moral right.
When Jesus cleansed the temple during the week of his arrest and crucifixion, he was also conducting a campaign of civil disobedience aimed at the power centers of the established order. His law-breaking was a tool of rebirth and social change.
The approach of Jesus is not unlike the modern democratic notion that a “loyal opposition” is obligated to resist unjust laws and policies to protect the integrity of the body politic. In the 20th century Martin Luther King Jr. demonstrated this principle when he broke segregation laws to show that apartheid was incompatible with the Constitution.
Taking inspiration from Thoreau, Mahatma Gandhi demonstrated the power of nonviolent action to undo an unjust government. The “consent of the governed” was removed in India through a long revolt involving tax refusal, boycotts, raids, resignations, parades and seditious speeches. Gandhi’s method confronted violence with civil defiance and love.
“Disobedience without civility, discipline, discrimination and nonviolence,” Gandhi explained, “is certain destruction. Disobedience combined with love is the living water of life.”
These days, with the threat of violence, war and nuclear escalation ever present, many determined people turn again to peaceful resistance to prevent the outbreak of “small” or “regional” war that could spark a global catastrophe. In Vermont, this tradition goes back decades. One example is the June morning when dozens of protesters in Burlington blocked the truck entrance to the local General Electric plant, producer of the Vulcan Gatling gun. For engaging in this sit-down action, the protesters were ready to be arrested. And they were.
But they were prepared for that because they believed Vermont’s many votes, petitions and rallies hadn’t been fully heard yet. Development of new weapons continued, intervention in Central America intensified, and anti-personnel weapons produced in Burlington were a significant component of this deadly foreign policy.
By blocking the factory gate, those committed to peace were moving beyond lobbying and toward tactics of more active resistance. For them, obedience in the face of militarism, war and nuclear terror was a denial of conscience.
Nonviolent acts of resistance still have the power to spark a redemptive transformation of society, one that includes the well-planned conversion of military bases and weapons plants while protecting displaced workers.
Like the American colonists who developed a new economy before their revolution, we can start the process of peaceful transformation by establishing local councils and other bodies that involve workers, management and the community in planning for a more realistic defense and for alternative, socially useful production and military missions. At the same time, we can work for a broader change in priorities by supporting national conversion initiatives that include retraining programs and income security for anyone displaced.
Combining powerful but peaceful direct actions with practical strategies and goals, in this high tech, too often polarized and violent world, would be revolutionary in the best sense of the word.
