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Applying The Resistance Principles--The Resistance History of the United States (Part 3)
by C. A. Matthews
If you’ve read the preceding two articles (Patterns of Resistance and Resistance Is A Lifetime), you’re probably wondering, “What now? We know Tad Stoermer’s nine resistance principles and their historical examples, but what can we do with this information? We’re still at a lost as to the how, when, and where the Revolution starts.”
My response to this is, “Start using the resistance principles to topple the corrupt capitalist system. Things will fall into place as we take action. But they won’t if we don’t.”
I’ll admit it’s easier said than done, but we can’t sit on the sidelines and hope for the best. If we want to make the world a better place for ourselves and our children/grandchildren, then we have to get out there and start making a difference. Today...
...You may ask, “Where do we begin? There are so many things wrong in this country—the entire world for that matter. We’re confused as to where to start.”
It is overwhelming. In an earlier article, I discussed the Chaos Pattern the oligarchy uses to confuse and overwhelm us while they make tons of money for themselves. But we can’t allow the oligarchs’ tactics fog our brains. Let’s start by reviewing the resistance principles and picking one idea that we think will get the revolution going.
So let’s start with Principle 6: Ideas Matter. What matters to you? Focus on what you want to change in the world and go from there on how you will resist...
...I’ll start with an idea that has been bothering me for a long time. I’m tired of the endless wars for oil, the degradation of our planet and its climate, and the genocides of Palestine, Sudan, Congo and elsewhere sponsored by the US. That’s sort of three different ideas, but they all revolve around one central problem: the American war machine and its associated military-industrial complex (MIC).
The idea that matters most to me is shutting down the war machine and everything it entails—its propaganda aspects, its manufacturing of arms/drones, its murdering of people and planet, its destruction of peace and unity in the world through the bullying behaviors of our current and past presidents. Following Principle 6, I know what I’m fighting for and not simply what I’m against...
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The anniversaries of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (August 6 and August 9, 1945) pass by most Westerners’ consciousness without notice. The dates aren’t printed on any calendars I have like “Memorial Day” or “Presidents’ Day” are, labeled in big, bright capital letters. The week the first atom bombs were dropped on civilians is not a bank holiday anywhere as far as I know.
The anniversary is mostly remembered by the children of the survivors and a handful of international peace organizations. The one event that should have motivated humankind to turn around and go in a better direction is the one event we seem to care the least about. We neither care to remember it and learn from it nor honor it and promise ourselves we’ll never do it again.
I have to admit that if GPAX, the Green Party Peace Action Committee, hadn’t presented “Never Again!” a very informative webinar on August 6, I’d probably would have forgotten about humanity’s fall from innocence, too. Yes, humankind is guilty of the sin of unleashing the power of the atom, the genie that cannot be put back inside the bottle once it has escaped. All life on Earth will never be the same again.
No one born since those early August days in 1945 has ever lived in a world without manmade nuclear radiation effecting them, either directly through an nuclear warhead detonation, or from being shot with depleted uranium coated bullets, or from the fallout leaking from a nuclear power plant that has suffered a “mishap” like Fukushima, or even from a simple rain shower. Manmade radiation has become a permanent part of our ecosystem for the worse, not better.
No one born since then has ever known a world where life as we know it could be wiped out in a matter of minutes if one or more nuclear powers decide to launch their nuclear weapons. This knowledge should keep us awake nights, but the majority of us seem okay living day-to-day in such a terrifying world.
Could it be we really don’t want peace? Could it be that we’d rather live with the threat of imminent Mutually Assured Destruction than to give up our creature comforts and affordable lifestyles in the West? Could it be Americans enjoy the hegemony we’ve gained through the threat of dropping H-bombs on your country if it doesn’t “cooperate” and give us what we want? (This means you, Venezuela and Iran. Hand over your oil or else!)
Or could it be I’m over-exaggerating the threat of our potential demise? Could I be minimizing the numbers of activists who are actively fighting to shut the war machine down? I don’t think so...
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Some folks won’t admit they’re lost. They’ll keep driving miles and miles out of their way rather than own up to the fact that they took a wrong turn somewhere. For them it’s better to stay lost than acknowledge there was a different (usually better) route they could have taken to reach their destination.
I often find this same attitude whenever I encounter others who hold to a less-than-desirable political outlook. No matter what “direction” you try to give them, they will choose to remain “lost” rather than admit they took a wrong turn or listened to the wrong person(s).
Psychologists call it “cognitive dissonance” when you refuse to contemplate that you could be wrong. It’s just too painful to admit to yourself that what you believe to be true could actually be a falsehood. Instead, you’ll lash out at others who might have innocently pointed out where you became lost in your thinking or offered you directions to get back on the right path.
Friendships and relationships often end when one person shares directions with an acquaintance or relative who doesn’t want to be corrected. Even if your friend or loved one holds onto beliefs that are potentially dangerous or destructive to themselves or others, they just want validation—not correction—from you. So, do you remain silent, bite your tongue, and say nothing? Is there ever a good time to share your beliefs with a few gentle pointers as to where your relative or acquaintance might have taken a wrong turn?
Let me know if you’ve found a surefire formula on how to handle these kinds of situations because I could certainly use one! (And I’m sure I’m not the only one.)
While contemplating what to write about this week (remember that I’m a flesh and blood entity who doesn’t use AI), I came across a social media post that made me yearn to help others change directions—or change their minds, if you will. The post was a political cartoon that an old friend posted on her Facebook page. We’ve never really discussed politics per se, but even after we both moved to different parts of the country we’ve kept in touch online.
Some of her posts have led me to believe that she is a follower of the “Blue-No-Matter-Who” cult (BNMW). I call this organization a “cult” because I’ve noticed how its members tend to repeat whatever their leaders say, no matter how “lost” it makes them sound. In other words, they repeat talking points that make them come across as brainwashed members of a cult...
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It’s more than a song title—it’s how we’ll win this thing.
The most common reply I get whenever I post a blog or make comment on another’s blog about this topic goes like this:
“Well, since you’re so full of ideas—how the hell do we pull this off? How do we get rid of the raping-pedophile-fascist-imperialist-capitalists-in-power? Because if we can’t get rid of them, then what’s the use of pointing out how evil and corrupt they are? Learn to live with it, [insert insulting epithet here].”
It is tiring repeating myself constantly, but if that’s what it takes I’ll do it. Our planet and our children’s futures depend upon this current generation of human beings doing the right thing and getting it done.
Perhaps words alone are not enough to make an impression on some minds… Here are some photos from a recent “ICE Out!” march, an organizers’ fair, and a “No War on Iran” protest along with a brief explanation of what I’m talking about.
First off, we need to organize. This is not a dirty word. Here’s an explanation of what it means...
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The kids didn’t ask for permission. They didn’t care about violating a noise ordinance or getting arrested. They just wanted ICE gone. For good. For the family of Renee Good. For the good of the community.
This is what Revolution is all about. It’s about doing good for the sake of the community—not the billionaire oligarchs ruling this fascist state.
Revolution is not about doing nothing and taking the shit dumped on us. It’s about shoveling that shit right back into the faces of those who wish to bury us. We bury them instead until the threat is no more.
I think the constant following and videoing of ICE agents in Minneapolis will wear the bastards down in time. They will leave town and avoid the upper Midwest from now until their ultimate demise at our hands. So keep it up, kids! You do us proud.
More Americans need to demonstrate the same bravery, the same courageous bloody-mindedness of the Minneapolis protesters...
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A lot of talk in activist groups consists of “When do we act?” and “Who will lead us?” Discussions of when we’ll know what to do and how we’ll know who to trust or which groups are the best ones to give us advice can go on for days, weeks, months or even years. Everyone has a right to their opinion, but in the meantime nothing much is accomplished and things can continue to grow worse. Much worse.
Waiting forever for answers is the wrong option, I believe. We must act, even if we’re uncertain of what direction we’re going exactly. Making no decision is actually making a decision, one that’ll probably not yield the desired result. At the current crossroads we as activists find ourselves, following the example of leaders from the past may help us find the direction that will lead us to a more peaceful present and happier future.
Once upon a time, a radical activist declared, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9) and meant it. He kept emphasizing peace as an action that could produce positive results and strengthen our determination. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14: 27)
His idea of peace was both internal and external, as one can’t fully be realized without the other. This was quite a daring concept in his era, especially as it was vocalized by a poor man from a working class migrant family living on the edge of the world’s largest empire. Sound familiar? That’s were many of us find ourselves today—living on the edge of empire, struggling to survive.
Empire, both then and now, doesn’t care very much for peace. Peace doesn’t sell fighter jets or killer drones. You can’t grow empire if you don’t have ready access to natural resources, land, and (slave) labor enough to build the profitable weapons of war, and you can’t gain these things without endless wars and genocides to appropriate them from others. We’ve seen this recently with the US perpetrating resource grabs in both Venezuela and Gaza...
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Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day. (Happy Black History Month, too.)
It does seem funny wishing a good day in honor of a late great American (assassinated by our own security state), but what else can I say?
I suppose I could say “Happy Inauguration Day!” but some folks would have a complete and utter meltdown if I dare mention Donald Trump being sworn in as president for a second time. So, I won’t say that, but what could I say instead? Maybe: “Trump is living in the White House again. Get use to it”?
I find it interesting how most of the individuals I know who have constantly worried and fretted over or made fun of the “Orange Man” won’t live any differently whether Trump is president or not. They still have their white privilege. They still live solidly middle- to upper-class lives. They will keep their jobs or be able to retire as planned. This is in complete contrast to the poor people that Dr. King spoke about frequently who struggled to pay their bills and never once considered retirement to be possible...
And now a short excerpt from our guest blogger's piece:
Swords Into Plowshares
by Coast Watcher
...Instead of scrapping one or both of the huge and expensive super-carriers Britain could instead donate them to the United Nations for use as disaster relief ships. Able to travel quickly to wherever they’re needed, each carrier could house dozens of search-and-rescue helicopters and other aircraft. Current hangar space below decks can be repurposed as hospitals equipped for emergency surgery, storage space for medical supplies, food, water, disaster relief equipment, tents and anything else required in a disaster relief operation. The ship’s nuclear power plant can be hooked up to shoreside facilities to provide electricity wherever local power generation has been damaged or destroyed...
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I have a thing for Christmas trees. I love to decorate them and collect ornaments from all over the world. Come the twelfth day of Christmas (Epiphany) on January 6, I’m compelled by the “social norm” to take down my tree* and store it and the decorations away until next December. (Who is this “Norm” and why is he always raining on my parade? Not very “sociable” of him.) The empty space in my living room where the Christmas tree once stood makes me sad, so I began a new tradition.
I put away the tall tree and put up a shorter, table-top sized tree* in its place. I decorate it with ornaments symbolizing love (after all, Valentine’s Day is in February) and peace. The past couple of years the little tree has become not a mere Christmas tree substitute but a “Peace Tree” dedicated to world peace.
I leave the Peace Tree standing as long as there is conflict anywhere on the planet. You guessed it—the Peace Tree hasn’t been put away for quite some time now. In the summer, I move it upstairs where I stand it on top a short bookcase in our bedroom. We put a window a/c unit in the downstairs window, and the little tree could get blown over if it stayed put, but it isn’t taken down. I see it every day, a reminder that humans are still warring with each other somewhere on the planet. We need world peace, and we needed it yesterday.
This holiday season I decided to give the Peace Tree a makeover...
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Happy Holidays—Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Solstice and a good Kwanzaa and peace to you and yours. May we all plant “Peace Trees” and together reap a harvest of goodness some day soon.
Editor's
note:
I had a dream about this whole hot mess the
world finds itself in. I wanted to share my vision, but I struggled to put it
into words until I decided to write it as a short short story. Other
than the odd poem (not very often and very odd), I haven't posted
anything like a short story at the The
Revolution Continues
before. This is a first. I've not written much fiction in recent
times because, frankly, I don't feel like writing anything funny or
with a happy ending. My last
novella is set in a dystopian world where an anarchist commune that practices mutual aid is
struggling to survive alongside a fascist state. My publisher
insisted it at least have a "happy for now" ending.
(You can buy a copy of it here. It would make my publisher very happy. Or you can drop me a donation via my
Paypal.me page here. That would make me very happy!)
If you decide you'd like to read more short fiction posts, let me know. I'll
see what I can do. If you'd rather I didn't post fiction here, leave a
comment stating your preference. Thanks for your feedback.
A must-watch short video:
We can put an end to this genocide. We have the power.
The
Miracle
by C.A. Matthews
“That’s
my planet,” I confessed, trembling. I pointed to the big blue marble that is Earth through the spaceship observation port. The
tallest of the grayish, bulb-headed, big-eyed, mouthless alien beings
nodded in understanding. “You can tell it’s inhabited from the
amount of pollution in the atmosphere detectable from this…
height.”
I’d
never believed in alien abduction before, but now that it was
happening to me it didn’t seem all that bad. No anal probes. No
poking or prodding of any kind really, unless you count the mental
probing my hosts—I hated to label them “my captors”—had
gently done to determine how best to communicate with me. I spoke
out loud, but I realized fairly quickly that they were reading my
mind and communicating me mentally, so using
my vocal cords
wasn’t
necessary. Talking just made me feel less nervous in their presence,
and they didn’t seem
to mind.
The
pollutants and toxins in your biosphere are slowly killing your kind
and many other species. Do you understand?
The tallest
of the aliens
sent its
thoughts directly into my head. Its tone and intonation made me
imagine it was coming from an
older, wiser individual. Itcommunicated
slowly and kindly as if speaking to a lost child. Would
you like them removed?
“The
pollution, you mean, not the people, right?” I laughed
and then gasped
as
what it meant hit me fully.
“You’re saying that you all can actually clean up our polluted
planet
after
all we’ve done to it?”
Yes,
we have the means to return your planet’s biosphere to its state
before the mass burning of fossil
fuels began. We can purge the toxins from the atmosphere,
the water
cycle, and from the soil. Crops
and forests will thrive. No longer will adverse climate effects harm
food production or the wildlife. We
can replace the
engines that run your
vehicles, machinery, and industrial plants that cause pollution and
radiation
with ones that do not. We can eliminate rogue viruses and bacteria
that cause serious illness and provide your
healers with instruction on how to cure through natural means, not
through
the
use of synthetic chemicals. Allow
us
to demonstrate.
With
a wave of its hand—or what I thought would pass as a
hand
on Earth—Tall
Guy
gave
its
compatriots
the signal to start Operation Earth Clean-Up. I’m not sure if what I
witnessed from the spaceship
window happened instantaneously or was happening over a period of
days,
years,
or centuries,
but within what seemed only a few short minutes to
me
the face of the Earth looked much
greener
and bluer and...well, healthier.
“Wow…”
I whispered. “Thank you! I am very impressed. No more bad air
quality days? No more boil warnings for our tap water? I can actually
swim in the lake now and not get covered with an outbreak of
poisonous blue-green algae?”
We
have purged
the toxins that are hazardous to life on your planet, my
host mentally informed me. Your
kind can be cured of sicknesses
now
with simple medicines and techniques available
to all.
“No
more need
for bad
health
insurance that never covers what you really need? Cancer cured? It
all
sounds
too good to be true.” I shook
my head in
disbelief.
“In my country, big corporations make
lots of money from keeping people sick and addicted to drugs.”
Tall
Guy blinked. If it
had possessed a mouth, it might have frowned. The
concept
of capitalism was probably as foreign and strange to my hosts as
their spaceship and advanced technology were to me. If they were
reading my mind at that moment, they might have regretted lavishing
such kind gifts upon our selfish species.
Is
there anything else we can do for your kind before we return you? Tall
Guy asked.
I
couldn’t wait to return to Earth—the beautiful, unpolluted Garden
of Edenwhere
sickness would be no more. I
sighed. There was something
niggling
me
in the back of my mind. I
had to know ifmy
hosts could
grant methis
one last, grandwish.
“Can
you rid our
world of war? Can you remove all the weapons—that
is, the
tools of violence
and destruction? Guns,
cannons,
nukes,
tanks, submarines, bomber
jetsand
the like that
humans use
to
kill other humans?”
Tall
Guy blinked again.
I was pretty sure this time it was
frowning
inside even without a mouth.
I
probably had asked too big of a favor. After all, extracting
pollution out of the biosphere could be just an
elaborate
chemical equation to them, but taking weapons away from warmongers? If
the concepts of capitalism andgreed
were incomprehensibly
horrible
and cruel to my
hosts,
can you imagine what they would have thought of humanity’s
insatiable need
to slaughter their
neighbors
and steal each
others’ land
and resources?
A
few
minutes later, after much discussion
as I called my hosts’ method of communicating as a group by
touching their foreheads
together,
I got my answer.
We
will try.
It
took more than ahand
wave from Tall Guy to bring peace about on Planet Earth. Several
different groups of gray aliens
started to work out different aspects of the challenge. I was allowed
to walk about and watch each team
tackle their part of the problem. I watched a view screen with
fascination as one group disintegrated
the biggest and most obvious weapons of war. They
focused what must have been a laser upon anaircraft
carrier and
then poof!
It was vaporized. Gone. Likewise to nuclear subs and battleships. The
sailors aboard were all magically transported to the closest port.
I
couldn’t help but clap my hands with glee as another group took out
an entire fleet of bombers and nuclear silos.
Zap! They
disappeared.
But
my hosts didn’t stop there. Another
group worked on eliminating all the small arms and automatic
weapons on
the planet. I’m not sure how their scanners could pick up on the
millions of firearms, some of which were hidden in cellars and barns
by the thousands in
my country,
but they did it. Abracadabra!
They vanished.
Wars
aren’t only fought on the battlefields, but in the cities and towns
where the oppressed are helpless to defend themselves. Several groups
of my gray hosts worked on tearing down barbwire fences and concrete
walls that had imprisoned so many within their own homelands or kept
them from entering a place of safety. I don’t know how they did
it, but my hosts flung open the prison doors that had incarcerated
freedom fighters and innocents alike, setting them free.
In
turn, the
politicians and the corporate war lords who had profited greatly
from
eternal wars for oil and similar
land grabs were escorted by invisible forces to trade places with the
unjustly imprisoned. Ta-da!
What
a brilliant move!
The
destruction of homes, family farms, and small businesses, the results of the wars
and genocides, was instantly reversed. Homelessness and
hunger were no
more. All who had been separated by violence and
divisions were
once again reunited with their family
members
and friends.
I
wept
tears of joy.
It
is accomplished,
Tall Guy communicated to me. Why
do you experience sadness?
“I’m
not sad. I’m happy.” I wiped my tears away with the back of my
hand and gazed upon one
of the
view screens
where a neighborhood, once reduced to rubble by bombing, now stood
whole and complete. “I am so
happy
with
the results of your
wonderful talents. How
can we ever thank you?”
And
then I caught a glimpse of something on the screen that caused my
smile to fade.
“What the hell… What is he doing?”
A
man picked up a rock and threw it hard at another man just about to
enter his rebuilt home. The second man fell to his knees, blood
pouring from a deep
gash
on his forehead. The
first
man and his group
ran toward the second man’s home,throwing
more rocks at it as
well as the
peopleof
the rebuilt neighborhood.
“I
thought you had eliminated all war?” I
whispered.
My
hosts assembled and pressed their foreheads
together in communion. After a long
minute,
Tall Guy approached,
its
appendages spread open in an imploring fashion.
We
eliminated all the human-made tools of war and violence as you had
asked us to, but we cannot take away the feelings of hatred and greed
and fear from inside each human being. That is something humanity
must do for itself. Do you understand?
I
nodded
and closed my eyes. “I understand. I appreciate all that you’ve
done for us. I realize now that I
can’t
expect you to perform a miracle.”
A
miracle? Explain.
“Something
that seems impossible, but it can and does spontaneously
occur
on rare occasions.”
Tall
Guy nodded. Its gaze appeared softer, more sympathetic.No,
we cannot perform a miracle. We cannot change the minds of living
beings set on hurting others.
“How
long will it take until humankind rebuilds
all the weapons it
had?”
I sniffed.
“Years? Months? Days?”
Not
long. Tall
Guy’s
tone
registered upon my mind
as
resignation.
I
turned toward the window. The
skies above the Earth weregrowing
darker and dirtier by
the second.
Humanswere
already rebuilding
the polluting factories to
create instruments of death, to
destroy each other and Earth’s fragile ecosystem without mercy.
Can
we help? Tall
Guy communicated
to
me.
I
slowly
smiled
at
my gracious
hosts.
“We’d all better start praying for that miracle,
or else I’ve wasted your time.”
This meme of Israeli girls writing their names on bombs to drop on Gaza is a couple months old. Recent estimates say 15,000+ children have been murdered in the Israeli genocide of Gaza.
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Applying The Resistance Principles--The Resistance History of the United States (Part 3)
