There’s an important difference between political protests taking place within a democratically ordered society and those taking place within a crude dictatorship, or a fundamentally corrupt and criminal regime. This difference is rarely acknowledged by the media, or by theorists who casually lump all acts of protest together. But surely, the fact that one process is extremely dangerous and the other is not should loom large in any analysis.
When Václav Havel and other Czech and Slovak dissidents founded the Civic Forum, with the aim of putting an end to Communist rule in Czechoslovakia, he had already experienced several jail sentences, including one that was five years long. His writings were banned, and he was not permitted to work in his chosen profession. He had experienced a lifetime of systematic threats and harassment. Anyone engaging in the kind of political demonstration that would have been without risk in Canada, the U.K., or the United States could expect to be punished severely, to disappear into one of the prison or slave labour camps, or even face execution. Their friends and family would also face punishment. Many tens of thousands of people had already experienced these punishments. Yet the Czech Communist regime was only mildly repressive by the century’s standards. Many regimes have been much more brutal.
Havel’s actions of protest were not aimed at convincing the Czech and Slovak people that their rulers were acting wrongly. Everyone was perfectly aware that they were occupied by an imperialist power, exploited, and tyrannized. They did not have to be convinced of this. Rather, protests in this context were acts of defiance against the rulers. This defiance had a small, but disruptive effect on the rulers, since it disturbed their sense of entitlement. It also had a small, but useful effect outside of Czechoslovakia. While very little news of these protests reached the outside world, and there mostly met indifference, a slow accumulation of rumours of dissident activity did help to erode the framework of lies that the regime projected. Intellectuals in the democracies who had made careers of collaborating with tyranny lost some of their credibility. But the primary effect was on the spiritual state of the dissidents themselves. As Havel wrote long before the successful overthrow of the regime: “…we never decided to become dissidents. We have been transformed into them, without quite knowing how, sometimes we have ended up in prison without precisely knowing how. We simply went ahead and did certain things that we felt we ought to do, and that seemed to us decent to do, nothing more nor less.” [1] This strengthening and focusing of inner moral purpose allowed them to act rationally and systematically. Over the years, an infrastructure of resistance was constructed, and the people of Czechoslovakia came to see this as the real source of political legitimacy, the real representation of themselves. Ultimately, some demonstrations occurred which triggered the overthrow of the oppressive regime, but the demonstrations were the tip of the iceberg. Underneath, there was a solid structure, which was itself constructed on solid moral ground. My friend Filip Marek, who participated in these events, often tells me that he dislikes the phrase “Velvet Revolution,” because it implies that it was both easy and bloodless. In reality, much blood was shed over the years to accomplish it, and it was not even remotely easy.
The protests taking place in the Middle East, today, are extremely dangerous for the participants. In the last few months, the dictatorship in Syria has murdered more than five thousand people in response to dissident activity, including children. In such regimes, any serious protest amounts to triggering a revolution, and the outcome of revolutions is terrifyingly unpredictable. The wave of popular resistance that took place within the old Soviet Empire produced a spread of divergent results in various parts of the empire. Some places, such as Estonia, became perfectly nice, modern, democratic countries. Some, such as Turkmenia, became dictatorships as brutal as the one that preceded them. Some underwent traumatic civil wars. The largest segment, now the Russian Federation, suffered a decade of economic chaos, followed by a strong-man regime with partially democratic institutions that is building up to another show-down with its people. Revolution is a crap-shoot. The results, so far, of the “Arab Spring” are similarly diverse. Tunisia pulled off a non-violent revolution successfully. Lybia experienced a prolonged violent struggle, and it is not clear if democratic institutions will successfully form. Egypt’s military pulled off an effective counter-revolution, dumping the dictator who was the focus of popular discontent, but preserving its own power and marginalizing the most progressive elements. The oil-rich monarchies of the Arabian peninsula have successfully crushed the movement. Syria remains the most violent, and unpredictable locus in the struggle. The Conservative press in countries like Canada and the United States is jubilant at these failures, much as I remember the sniggering hostility that intellectuals had for the uprisings in the Soviet Empire, back in 1988–91.
Protests within a functioning democracy are fundamentally different from these kind of events. The protestors face no significant danger. This is not to say that we should turn a blind eye to cops violating civil rights, strong-arming peaceful demonstrators, or the kind of treasonous fraud perpetrated by the authorities that occurred during the G‑20 summit in Toronto. All those responsible for these crimes against my country should be punished severely for them, though I know that they never will be. But there is a world of difference between a brief stay in a local lock-up and a court appearance, and facing a firing squad or ten years digging rocks with your bare hands in a mine. Protesters in Canada do not face danger great enough to classify their actions as examples of great courage. I’m not implying that they shouldn’t engage in protest. Protest is urgently needed. But it is not helpful or honest to misrepresent its nature.
What motivates real protest in a democracy is not physical courage, but civic virtue. When we protest against the abominable activities of the Conservative government in Canada, we are fulfilling our patriotic duty to preserve the values of our country, not fomenting revolution. It is Stephen Harper, and his gang of corrupt cronies, who are subverting and dishonouring our country. It is they who are the seditious element. This is why I do not feel any gladness when professional pseudo-revolutionaries, conventional ideological “anarchists” or “radicals” participate in such protests, or attempt to take them over. They are there precisely to validate the “good guy” image of the authorities, and to torpedo the moral legitimacy of the protest. They perform exactly the same debasing function that Islamic Fundamentalist groups have done for the Arab Spring.
Within a democratic polity, one finds protests occurring all the time, precisely because a free society should be open to them, and should encourage them. But such protests differ greatly in their quality. Some protests tell us little more than that somebody is angry about something. Since another, equally large or influential group may be equally angry about an opposite state of affairs, this seldom has any influence on either opinion or policy. More sophisticated protest aims at influencing public opinion, by 1) making clear what is wrong about some public policy; 2) putting forward a different, presumably better policy; and 3) convincing a broad public of the wisdom of acting to this end. In a democracy, effective protest should merely be the initial step in a process culminating in real political organization and action. This action must, to be genuinely effective, translate into people marking x’s on ballots in the end. If it is merely a ritual, an amusement, or a way of blowing off steam, it is not progressive.
Regressive and corrupting forces in our society have access to very effective means of influencing public opinion, and of forwarding their policies. They can fill the newspapers and television broadcasts that they control with misinformation and specious arguments. They can create institutions with impressive-sounding credentials to promote their views and provide the media with catch-phrases and sound-bites. They can manufacture phony “grass-roots” movements among the gullible. They can fill the internet with contrived “independent” sources (there is a commercial agency in New York that specializes in this). They don’t have to be truthful, logical, or even consistent, since their aim is to deceive a variety of people “by any means necessary.” And, of course, they can simply buy politicians — use their unlimited financial resources to install paid stooges in public office. But even their paid stooges have to be elected. Propaganda is merely a prelude to the critical process of getting the vote out. In every case I know of, in Canada and the United States, when those countries took a significant turn for the worse, the majority of good-hearted people sat on their bums at election time, while the forces of barbarism built effective organizations to get their followers into the polling booths. Paul M. Weyrich, the American Conservative political strategist who founded key organizations that trained and mobilized regressive activists, recruited regressive candidates, and raised funds for regressive causes, once stated it succinctly: “I don’t want everybody to vote. Elections are not won by a majority of the people. They never have been from the beginning of our country and they are not now. As a matter of fact, our leverage in the elections quite candidly goes up as the voting populace goes down.” [2] Around the time this was said, many of the people I knew who claimed to oppose these forces thought themselves frightfully clever because they never voted.
When protest fails to define problems clearly, when it fails to clarify moral issues, when it fails to claim the territory of both reason and patriotism, when it fails to make clear what action should be taken to correct the problem, or what public policy should be pursued in preference, and when it fails to be a stimulus to real action in the political process, it is worse than useless.
In the last year, there has been an abundance of such ineffective protest, in Canada and the United States. While elsewhere, courageous people have been risking their lives for even a slim chance that they might see their countries become democracies, little has been done here to fight the systematic erosion and desecration of our liberties, except for some silly, misconceived and misdirected opere buffe, connected to no significant political action.
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