I am currently reading the autobiography of the late Jim Lawson titled, Nonviolence: My Life of Resistance, Agitation, and Love. He was, in many ways, one of the most important figures of the civil rights movement. A disciple of nonviolence and a committed Christian, he dedicated his life to challenging not only white supremacy, but the underlying violence that organizes our way of life. He insisted that we could live together differently and that we could respond to hate with an enveloping love. Reading the manuscript offers an insider account of an historic moment in the country and an inspiring spiritual autobiography of a life that, for all intents and purposes, was saintly. And here I am thinking about William James’s definition of saintliness in which spiritual emotions become the center of gravity in a person’s life even in the way they treat so-called enemies.
I could say so much more about Reverend Lawson, but reading about his life against the backdrop of millions of Americans nonviolently protesting over the weekend had me thinking about the strategic power of nonviolence in this moment.
I don’t consider myself a disciple of nonviolence. My disposition does not lend itself to the kind of courageous actions of the likes of Diane Nash, John Lewis, and Rev. Lawson. I am also a bit leery of the constant badgering to engage in nonviolent protests. It feels, at times, as an unseemly repetition and a desire on the part of some to discipline forms of dissent. But I am also well aware of the pitfalls of violence—especially when challenging the state. No need to throw away lives with actions that will not fundamentally change circumstances.
But as I walked with protestors in Oakland, I kept thinking that this could be a moment in an escalating effort to refuse consent to the Trump administration. How would millions marching on Saturday translate and transform into deliberate action that would challenge the fascistic drift of this administration? How might we continue to say, with Melville’s Bartleby, the Scrivener, “I prefer not to"?
Reading the autobiography, I was fascinated by Rev. Lawson’s unyielding faith. He refused repeatedly to yield to the ugliness of racial segregation. No matter the costs. Rev. Lawson was willing to face the devil himself in the fight for a more just world. But he wasn’t naive. His was a thoughtful approach learned from some of the best organizers in the 20th century (AJ Muste, Bayard Rustin, etc.)
In his training sessions, he would emphasize the “virtues of nonviolence”: of speaking softly, avoiding argument, of neither hating or fearing those who you oppose, of engaging your opponents to turn their attention from the situation, and emphasizing the spiritual stakes of the action. These virtues would shape how one engaged the methods of non-violence. From fact-finding, education to actual preparation for direct action. (The marches yesterday would be considered a dramatic form of education.) But direct action ranged from sit-ins, boycotts, vigils, strikes, and civil disobedience (deliberately breaking an unjust law to expose it).
Of course, there are people who live this approach among us today. Think about Bishop Barber and the Poor People’s campaign and those who work at the King Center. But “the march” today works a lot like the legal approach of yesterday. Rev. Lawson thought that we needed something more forceful and urgent. In effect, the legal process, although effective, simply took too long. Marches do a certain kind of work, but they cannot be the end in itself. Another step is required.
And it is here that I am looking beyond the spectacular marches on Saturday. Marches alone aren’t sufficient. They focused the attention for a moment. Now what must we do? Because Trump and MAGA Republicans will continue their assault on our democracy.
One doesn’t have to be a disciple of nonviolence — to believe that it should be a way of life — to understand its efficacy. Nor must we be saints. But Rev. Lawson’s courage and brilliance remind us of what ordinary people are capable of doing. We must decide that we have had enough. Refuse. And announce that refusal with actions that dramatically intensify the pressure on the people hell bent on destroying this place.
I'd like to see national boycotts...even the mild Tesla boycotts were effective. The EU has been far more unified in this regard, and Tesla sales plummeted there as a result.
We have seen clients and partners leave law firms that capitulated to Trump.
Everyday Americans must be able to summon the resolve to boycott the Trumpiest corporations.
Such large protests create community among so many who feel isolated, alone, and fearful in their convictions. Is it enough? No, of course not. Is it a necessary step in the building of social consensus and collective will? Yes.