Earlier this year, in a meeting with students and colleagues here in Tbilisi, Georgia, we came to a consensus that many important civil resistance stories related to decision-making, specific tactics and defining strategy are frequently lost here. We—activists engaged in movements for democracy, environmental justice, good governance and more—are not writing or documenting enough to create transferable knowledge, so future generations will not know about our country’s civil resistance stories. But with no local resources available to support such “knowledge management” actions, how can we affirm our nonviolent history in the interest of advancing our struggles? […]

Humanity confronts multiple existential crises, with climate change and rising global authoritarianism both at the top of the list. Democratic governments and NGOs have made some headway in addressing these challenges, but unfortunately they have also proven inadequate or insufficient to handle the scale of adversity we face. Yet opportunity remains. When conventional wisdom fails and standard responses seem broken, people can become open to new ideas and innovation, unified in the face of shared threats, and mobilized to play offense. […]

Another presidential election has come and gone in Nigeria, leaving political parties, civil society and a disgruntled electorate in disarray over all the alleged irregularities that were recorded. Bola Tinubu was announced as the president-elect under the ruling party, the All Progressives Congress, by an electoral commission largely viewed as incompetent. Aggrieved parties and ordinary citizens have been demanding transparent judgment or re-election, and they’ve been doing so through nonviolent actions that draw heavily on creativity and humor.

“On June 11, 1963, Thích Quảng Đức, a 65-year-old Buddhist Mahayana monk, arrived in a car along with two other monks at the intersection of Phan Đình Phùng Boulevard and Lê Văn Duyệt Street, a few blocks southwest of the Presidential Palace in Saigon. One monk carried a cushion into the intersection and placed it on the pavement. While Thích Quảng Đức proceeded to walk to the cushion and sit down in a lotus position, another monk carried over a five-gallon can of gasoline and poured it on Thích Quảng Đức, who calmly lit himself on fire. […]”

“Nonviolence is naïve. Humans are violent by nature.” “Violence is needed to confront violent adversaries.” “Nonviolent resistance undermines institutional means of change.” Views such as these are understandable in light of society’s socialization and ongoing elevation of violence in news, education and entertainment media. It can be frustrating to have to respond to such views on a regular basis. But if the other person is engaging in good faith, responding can also be an opportunity to deepen the conversation, learn about their perspective, and share our own. In this article, I dig deeper into some widespread assumptions about nonviolent resistance, in the spirit of reinforcing the capacity of advocates of the effectiveness of civil resistance to steer conversations toward higher ground. […]

“This is why we must break the silence on self-immolation in the field of nonviolent resistance. Whether one believes self-immolation to be an act of violence or of nonviolent resistance, oppressive regimes are eager to fill the silence and portray self-immolation as an outcome of mental illness or religious extremism. Dictatorships always seek to throw a veil of doubt over acts of resistance that challenge their power. […] Without recommending this harrowing tactic to anyone, we can still honor the sacrifice of self-immolators for rights, justice and freedom. For whether it is to die in the truth or to live in the truth, it is still the truth that is always worth pursuing…”

The reason we try to understand the succession crisis that embroils many dictatorships is rather practical: we would like to figure out ways for movements to use this opportunity to expand political space, maybe even push the regime for concessions and, further down the road, achieve substantive political changes towards democratization. The wobble that represents the “S-word”, succession, should be seen an opportunity for the movement, but one that does not automatically lead to disintegration regime. […]

In the last decade, many countries have been backsliding into authoritarian rule. Serbia, the country where I was born, is one of them. This is a scary development that prompts us to focus on the democracy crisis, and many observers do. But there is another crisis brewing, largely unnoticed: the dictatorship crisis. It may sound like a paradox but currently authoritarian rule is experiencing a resurgence and going through a crisis at the same time. The resurgence is apparent, promoted even, but crisis is not being seen as authoritarian countries are less transparent than democracies and would rather keep their weaknesses hidden. […]

Taking the moral high road as an activist often germinates as an internal commitment to a certain philosophy—the philosophy of nonviolence. Yet observing a certain set of ethics in our movement practice can also bring strategic advantages in asymmetrical conflict between oppressors and the oppressed. The two qualities are inseparable, moral nonviolence and strategic nonviolent conflict being two sides of the same coin. Over the last half-century of being a front-line activist and nonviolent resister in North America, I have begun to discern some of the finer points of civil resistance in practice. […]