So, imagine cracking open this book. What you'll find is a philosophical look at a topic that's incredibly relevant in our world today – nonviolent resistance. The author, Todd May, comes at this not just as a philosopher who writes about political philosophy, but also as someone who has actually organized and participated in nonviolent actions. He keeps up with various political movements, both violent and nonviolent. However, it's important to note that he emphasizes he's _not_ a scholar dedicated specifically to the field of peace and nonviolence studies, which is a vibrant area with lots of important work being done. His aim is to contribute a philosophical perspective alongside the historical, sociological, and political studies that already exist, recognizing his own limits but hoping to provoke further thought. **What the Book Aims to Do (and What it Doesn't)** The book sets out to offer a general philosophical account of nonviolence. It wants to frame nonviolence in a way that provides plausible answers to some fundamental questions: What exactly _is_ nonviolence? Why does it work in the ways it does? And what is its moral foundation? This kind of philosophical reflection is different from just recounting history or analyzing success and failure rates, although the book certainly draws heavily on those things. Think of it like standing alongside those other studies, offering a different lens through which to view nonviolence, one that explores its underlying structure and values rather than just its appearance or effects. It's not meant to be the final word on the subject, but rather an invitation to further reflection, especially given that philosophy has, perhaps surprisingly, largely overlooked nonviolence. **Pinpointing Nonviolence: More Than Just "Not Violent"** One of the first big challenges is figuring out what nonviolence actually _is_. You might think it's just the absence of violence, right? But if that were the case, sleeping or taking a shower would count as nonviolent activities, and that's clearly not what we mean when we talk about nonviolent _resistance_ or _action_. Nonviolent activity is anything but passive; it's active and creative. Gandhi even rejected his original term "passive resistance" because it sounded too inactive. Martin Luther King Jr. also saw nonviolent action as a way to move beyond passivity without resorting to violent force. So, if nonviolence is active, how do we define it? The book suggests we start by understanding what kind of violence nonviolence rejects. While giving a perfect definition of all forms of violence is tricky, even perhaps impossible, nonviolence clearly steers clear of certain things. First off, physical violence is a definite no-go. Actions that involve intentional physical harm are antithetical to nonviolent organizing. But it's not just physical harm. The book also brings up psychological violence. This involves things like vigorous psychological abuse or sharp, caustic psychological attacks. The text argues that nonviolent campaigns must reject this too. The idea is that part of the dignity of nonviolent protest is being willing to _undergo_ abuse, not inflict it. Imagine protestors humiliating adversaries with personal chants – that seems to violate the spirit of nonviolence. Though drawing the line between psychological abuse and simply having a disturbing effect (like leaflets describing atrocities) can be difficult, the general principle is that nonviolence eschews such actions. It's noted that pure nonviolence is more of an ideal, and a single shove or threat doesn't turn a campaign violent, but striving to reject physical and psychological violence is key. Then there's a more complex idea: structural violence. This refers to the harm caused by oppressive social, economic, or political systems. Think of pervasive discrimination or an economic structure where some flourish while many struggle. Some argue this isn't really "violence," preferring terms like "social injustice". However, the book argues that structural violence, whatever you call it, _is_ precisely what nonviolence seeks to confront and change. Whether it's challenging a regime, an occupation, or an unfair economy, nonviolent resistance is directed at these oppressive structures. So, nonviolent action avoids physical, psychological, _and_ structural violence. But is there something common uniting these three types of violence that nonviolence rejects? The book explores the idea of violence as the violation of "integrity". Integrity here means wholeness or intactness. This isn't just physical intactness (like not being amputated), but also relates to autonomy – the ability to determine what happens to you. Psychological abuse or being unable to provide for oneself could violate this sense of integrity. However, defining violence solely by violating integrity (in the sense of preventing self-determination) runs into a problem: coercion. Nonviolence is often, and deliberately, coercive. The Montgomery bus boycott, for example, wasn't just persuasion; it used economic pressure to _force_ desegregation. If preventing someone from determining their future (which coercion does) is a violation of integrity and therefore violence, then nonviolence would, by definition, be violent, which seems wrong. This leads to a different way of understanding the violence nonviolence avoids, centering on the idea of **dignity**. Drawing on Michael Rosen's work, the book leans towards a sense of dignity as treating someone with respect. To refuse violence against another is to recognize something in them worthy of respect – seeing them not just as an obstacle, but as an "end in himself or herself," to use Kant's phrase. This doesn't mean you can never frustrate an adversary's actions; nonviolence _can_ frustrate freedom (like the freedom to kill) without fundamentally violating a person. Respecting dignity means recognizing that others have a life to lead with meaningful projects and relationships, and ensuring that your actions, even when coercive, leave them with a route to pursue these things without fear of abuse or lacking basic needs. This broader view of dignity (having a human life to lead) allows nonviolence to be coercive while still rejecting the specific forms of violence that deny this dignity. With this understanding of the violence nonviolence rejects, the book offers a definition: nonviolence is **"political, economic, or social activity that challenges or resists a current political, economic, or social arrangement while respecting the dignity (in the sense defined above) of its participants, adversaries and others"**. This definition covers individual actions and organized campaigns. It applies beyond just politics to economic boycotts and social challenges. It also reflects the difficulty of determining if "accidental violence" (like blocking an ambulance during a protest) turns a nonviolent action into a violent one, an issue the author remains unsure how to resolve. While this definition might seem broad enough to include writing a letter to a representative, which doesn't feel as grand as Tahrir Square, such actions can still be part of larger nonviolent strategies, even if they are less interesting examples on their own. Similarly, actions like blockades, if they don't deprive people of their livelihood or basic needs, can be coercive without disrespecting dignity. The book also argues that nonviolence must reject _threats_ of violence, as they rely on the very harm nonviolence seeks to avoid and don't respect dignity. Here's a thought to ponder: If respecting dignity is about allowing others to pursue meaningful lives and projects, how does a nonviolent campaign balance this with the need to fundamentally change structures that prevent millions from pursuing meaningful lives? It seems like there's a tension between respecting the dignity of those benefiting from an unjust structure (by not utterly destroying their way of life) and the demand for justice for those whose dignity is already being violated by that structure. Something to chew on! **How Does Nonviolence Actually Work? Exploring the Dynamics** Once we have a handle on what nonviolence _is_, the next big question is: How does it actually _work_? It's a form of struggle that can't rely on conventional force against often heavily armed adversaries. It's sometimes mistakenly seen as just a "weapon of the weak," resorted to when violence isn't an option. However, the book suggests nonviolence is often a _better_ means, shifting the ground of struggle so that military force becomes irrelevant or even a disadvantage. Perhaps the most well-known model of how nonviolence works comes from Gandhi. While nonviolence existed long before him, Gandhi's leadership, particularly in India's independence movement, gave shape to a widely recognized dynamic. For Gandhi, this dynamic involved stages: 1. **Persuasion:** Trying to convince the adversary through reason, rooted in the idea that nobody has a monopoly on truth and that you might be mistaken. This involves actively engaging and trying to convert the other, not just listening. 2. **Suffering (Tapas):** When persuasion fails, nonviolent resisters are willing to suffer the violence inflicted upon them by the adversary. This suffering is not passive; it's an active choice to endure rather than retaliate. 3. **Moral Jiu-Jitsu:** The suffering of the nonviolent resisters, combined with their steadfastness, reveals the adversary's violence and injustice to outside observers, the adversary's own supporters, and even the adversary themselves. The adversary "loses their moral balance" because the expected violent resistance isn't there. This moral crisis makes the campaigners' goals harder to ignore and can garner sympathy and admiration (not pity). 4. **Conversion:** Ideally, this process leads the adversary to recognize the truth of the campaigners' position and change their stance, not through defeat but through a change of heart or perspective. The Vykom Temple Road campaign in India, where "untouchables" and their supporters endured beatings and stood in floodwaters to challenge a social norm, is presented as an example following this Gandhian script, leading to a kind of moral coercion and conversion. However, the book points out that many successful nonviolent campaigns, like those in Estonia, the Philippines, and Egypt, didn't necessarily involve the _conversion_ of the adversary. Mubarak was forced out, but likely not converted. The Soviets withdrew from Estonia, but weren't converted. This suggests there must be other ways nonviolence can work besides the strict Gandhian model. This is where Gene Sharp comes in. His extensive work views power as something that comes from the "bottom up". Rulers depend on the obedience and cooperation of the people they govern. Even brute force (police, military) only works if people are willing to obey or are afraid not to. Sharp argues that when people withdraw their cooperation and obedience, the ruler's power collapses. Sharp expands the possible outcomes of a successful nonviolent campaign beyond just conversion to include **accommodation** (the opponent grants demands without changing their mind) and **coercion** (change is forced against the opponent's will because their power sources are undermined). Sharp uses the term **political jiu-jitsu** to encompass these dynamics, distinguishing it from Gandhi's "moral" jiu-jitsu, because the change isn't necessarily moral conversion but political change. Kurt Schock's research on nonviolent resistance in nondemocracies supports this, finding that change often happens through nonviolent coercion rather than conversion. The Philippine campaign against Marcos is given as an example of political jiu-jitsu without full moral conversion. Repressive acts led to decreased legitimacy, destabilized the economy, and solidified opposition, eventually leading to rebellion even within the military. The Civil Rights movement also used tactics designed to provoke violent responses (political jiu-jitsu) from figures like Sheriff Bull Connor, revealing the injustice to a wider audience and creating pressure for change, as King noted in his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail". But can nonviolence work _without_ political jiu-jitsu? Sharp and others suggest yes. The book hints at movements like Occupy as potential examples. These movements, initially lacking specific demands, focused on the act of "being there" – occupying space, making themselves visible, and disrupting the norm simply by existing in large numbers. The power wasn't necessarily in provoking the adversary or even coercing a specific policy change, but in the action itself, in challenging the existing order by enacting an alternative presence. Their slogans like "We are the 99%" or "We are traffic" emphasize this state of "being there" as the core of the struggle. While the long-term success of such movements might still be debated, they offer a different potential dynamic. A common thread in successful nonviolent movements is their ability to withstand repression and undermine state power. They also tend to have lower barriers to participation, offering diverse tactics like demonstrations, boycotts, letter-writing, and strikes, allowing more people to get involved in ways they are comfortable with, contributing to resilience. Here's another question: How does the dynamic of "being there," like in Occupy, specifically relate to the concept of respecting dignity? Is the disruption caused by occupation always respectful of the dignity of those whose daily lives are affected? It seems like this dynamic raises interesting challenges for maintaining that core principle. **The Deep Ethical Core: Dignity and Equality** Beyond the definitions and dynamics, the book delves into the fundamental values underpinning nonviolence: dignity and equality. We've already touched on dignity in defining nonviolence, but let's explore it further. The book rejects a narrow, Kantian view of dignity based solely on rational capacity. Instead, it embraces a broader definition tied to **"the having of a human life to lead"**. This includes the ability to engage in long-term projects and relationships, awareness of one's mortality shaping life's arc, basic biological needs (food, shelter), and psychological needs (care, attachment). Nonviolence must respect this in everyone – participants, adversaries, and bystanders. This doesn't mean you can't interfere with an adversary's projects (nonviolence _can_ be coercive), but you must not treat them as though their life or projects are less worthy than your own. The nonviolent protests against Marcos didn't demand his death or imprisonment, recognizing his dignity as a human being, even while forcing him from power. This expanded view of dignity is central. Another aspect of dignity is acting in a **dignified manner**. This is about embodying a certain nobility, modeling how people _can_ and perhaps _ought_ to behave, especially in conflict. It's a public display, showing a way to navigate political disagreement that avoids both naive avoidance of conflict and silencing the opposition. It's about being the change you want to see, enacting desired ends through chosen means. Decision-making processes like the consensus model used in Occupy General Assemblies are seen as examples of training in this dignified behavior, requiring self-discipline and respect for others' viewpoints. Alongside dignity is the crucial idea of **equality**. Drawing on the work of Jacques Rancière, the book proposes that nonviolence operates by acting on the **presupposition of equality**. This isn't demanding to be treated as an equal, which still comes from a position of perceived inequality. Instead, it's _acting as though you are already equal_. The lunch counter sit-ins and the Salt Satyagraha are prime examples; people simply acted as if they had the right to be there or make salt, embodying the equality that the existing system denied. Nonviolence, then, confronts the adversary with people who have been treated as less than equal but are behaving as equals. Their "moral superiority" (as in moral jiu-jitsu) doesn't come from presupposing superiority, but from enacting equality. This presupposition of equality is enacted whether or not participants consciously believe it or know they are doing it. Acting as equals can have profound effects on the participants themselves, fostering self-respect and a sense of power and solidarity. Nonviolence allows people to refuse powerlessness, not with a weapon, but with their own bodies, asserting equality by elevating themselves, not by bringing others down. This self-developed sense of dignity and emancipation is a key aspect of nonviolent struggle. Consider this: If acting on the presupposition of equality is key, how does this play out in movements that explicitly highlight differences, such as those focused on racial justice or disability rights? Is the "equality" presupposed a universal sameness, or is it an equality of inherent worth despite difference? A thought-provoking area for further exploration! **The Nature of Nonviolence: Ethical, Bottom-Up, and Not Always "Nice"** Bringing it all together, the book characterizes nonviolence as an **ethical form of collective political action**. It's political because it seeks change. It's "bottom-up," involving people banding together rather than operating through traditional political structures or appealing to those in power (though these can play a role). It's often noninstitutional. Crucially, nonviolence has a deep **ethical core** in its rejection of physical, psychological, and structural violence. It's not just a strategy; it's an ethical vision of how people should relate to one another, and this vision is enacted in the struggle itself ("be the change you want to see"). The distinction between **principled nonviolence** (driven by a moral belief in respecting dignity) and **pragmatic nonviolence** (using nonviolence because it's effective) is raised. The book argues that, in practice, if a campaign is genuinely nonviolent (respects dignity), the participants' _motivation_ (principled or pragmatic) doesn't change the nonviolent character of the _action_. However, acting nonviolently can actually influence motives over time, potentially leading pragmatic participants towards a more principled stance. Finally, the book touches on the **morality of nonviolence** itself. Nonviolence isn't automatically moral. It's possible, though rare, to use nonviolent means for immoral ends. However, the book suggests that actions that might _look_ nonviolent but fundamentally violate the dignity of others (like blockading an abortion clinic, which denies a woman's dignity in making life decisions) could actually be considered violent according to the book's definition of violence as the violation of dignity. This perspective reframes many seemingly immoral nonviolent actions as, in fact, violating the core principle of nonviolence. Consider how this view challenges traditional ideas of what counts as "violence." If violating dignity is the core, does this mean any action that deeply harms someone's ability to lead a meaningful life, even if unintentional or not typically labeled "violent," could be seen through this lens? An expansive but challenging concept! **Nonviolence in Today's World: Creative, Effective, and Necessary** The book suggests that contemporary nonviolent movements are creative and responsive to their contexts, often drawing on history but not just replicating the past. The need for nonviolence remains urgent in a world grappling with oppression, exploitation, and structural violence. Historical data, like that from Chenoweth and Stephan, suggests that nonviolent campaigns, particularly against regimes and occupations, have a higher success rate than violent ones. Even in situations like Egypt after the Arab Spring, where military rule re-emerged, the book suggests that sustained nonviolent refusal to obey could still challenge that power. **Wrapping Up and Looking Ahead** So, "Nonviolent Resistance" by Todd May offers a powerful philosophical argument for understanding nonviolence as a distinct, active, and ethical form of struggle. It's not just about avoiding punches; it's about challenging unjust systems (including structural violence) while consistently upholding the dignity of everyone involved – resisters, adversaries, and bystanders. This is achieved through various dynamics, from Gandhi's conversion model to Sharp's nonviolent coercion and the newer approaches focused on enacting presence. At its heart are the core values of dignity (respecting the capacity to lead a human life) and equality (acting as if you are already equal). This journey through the book's ideas opens up many avenues for further thought. Here are a few questions you might explore: - How can nonviolent movements effectively communicate and maintain the principle of respecting dignity, especially in the heat of intense repression or when facing adversaries who seem to show no such respect? - Given the rise of digital technology and global communication, how are the dynamics of moral and political jiu-jitsu changing? Who are the key "third parties" today, and how are they influenced? - The book distinguishes between different forms of coercion. Can we develop clearer criteria or examples to differentiate between nonviolent coercion (that respects dignity) and psychological violence (that violates it) in specific campaign contexts? - How does the concept of structural violence, as defined through the lens of dignity, apply to complex global issues like climate change, extreme poverty, or the effects of global economic policies? What forms of nonviolent resistance are best suited to address these challenges? These are just a few paths suggested by the rich ideas presented in the book. Exploring nonviolence from this philosophical perspective helps us see it not just as a tactic, but as a profound way of engaging with the world and asserting a vision of a more just and dignified future for everyone.