The Dissidentsia
In Defense of Dissent, Dissidents, and Fighting the Power
Dear Readers,
I write to you in the spirit of The Liberator, The North Star, Poor Black Woman, The Revolution, The Working Man's Advocate, La Raza, Akwesasne Notes, Spare Change, G.I. Community, Harass the Brass, Marine Blues, The American Noncomformist and Kansas Industrial Liberator, About Face, Forlorn Hope, The Prison Mirror, The Angolite, San Quentin News, and the many great abolitionist, antiwar, women’s rights, union, and prison publications throughout history.
I write in the spirit of Attica, Stonewall, Standing Rock, the UFO coffeehouse, United Farmworkers, the Southern Tenant Farmers Union, Students for a Democratic Society, the Catonsville Nine, the Plowshares Eight, the Chicago Seven, Indians of All Tribes, Fish Wars, the Women's International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell, the Atlanta Washerwomen, the National Organization for Women, the Freedom Riders, the March on Washington, and the many courageous labor organizations, social movements, and protest campaigns that have preceded us.
I write in the spirit of Fannie Lou Hamer, Eugene Debs, Helen Keller, Cesar Chavez, Pete Seeger, Daniel Ellsberg, Rosa Parks, Henry Ward Beecher, Ida B. Wells, Harriet Tubman, Abbey Lincoln, Max Roach, Marlon Brando, Sam Cooke, Kurt Vonnegut, James Baldwin, Tupac Shakur, and the many brilliant individuals—artists, activists, and humanitarians—that worked for the people instead of for the power.
I write in the spirit of Jesus of Nazareth.
As we mark (or don't) the Christmas holiday, it behooves us to remember the man at the center of the mythology: Jesus lived and died a political dissident whose advocacy for the less fortunate was an essential element of his ministry. Unfortunately, the Roman Empire was an oligarchy, and thus fundamentally opposed that which threatened its power. Alas, this Jesus guy still managed to reach a few people before—and since—they did him in.
To any readers who may be turned off by what they imagine to be a fundamentalist 'libtard' Resistance contrivance: I have consistently criticized the broader political left for the imprudent practice of calling out fascism and bigotry on the right when their narrow-mindedness and fanaticism often and all-too-ironically mirrors that of their opposition. To any readers who may object to this idea and accuse me of bothsidesism: I'm equating conduct and comportment (i.e. bigotry and intolerance) and NOT the politics. Long story short (too late): I write from a non-partisan position, though my values are generally leftist/humanist; I am a longtime registered Independent in favor of social democracy, pluralism, freedom of expression, labor unions, reproductive freedom, human rights and climate justice, and firmly against capital punishment, the military and prison industrial complexes, corporatocracy, and now indisputable American oligarchy.
Dissent and criticism are essential components of a healthy and free society—protected, of course, by the very First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States—and we have arrived at a moment in American history in which these practices have perhaps never been more important. Recent actions by members of the incoming administration and its sycophants are certainly cause for consideration, if not deep concern. The richest man in the world, a craven and nauseatingly odious douchenozzle creep and self-styled ‘free speech absolutist’ with a long history of bowdlerization and censorship, shady legal maneuvers (including forced arbitration to silence employees), and cozy relationships with repressive regimes, spent over a quarter of a billion dollars (made thanks to billions in government subsidies that he now conveniently opposes) to re-install Donald Trump in the White House, and recently killed a bipartisan Congressional budget deal by publicly threatening political retribution against Republicans who voted in support. Various other industry executives, foreign leaders, and media figures—many of whom had previously objected to Trump as a threat to decency, democracy, and national security—are now lining up to kiss the ring, pathetically and avariciously abandoning principles for a suckle at the teat, and to avoid incurring the puerile wrath of an authoritarian leader who threatens to punish those who merely exercise their constitutional rights and civic/intellectual duty to speak, assemble, and petition their government for a redress of grievances.
When I read the news of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson gunned down on a Manhattan street, I will admit to insouciance, taking another sip of my coffee, and thinking to myself something to the effect of "If anyone had it coming..." This thought was immediately followed by another, which admonished the monster of the moment previous for such heinous thinking. But I soon saw that my initial knee-jerk sentiment was shared by a large swath of the public, who have also experienced the inhumane horrors of the American healthcare industry.
A smattering of responses from the internet:
“Thoughts and prayers are out of network.”
“We understand that you were actively 'bleeding out,' but this does not exempt you from exploring lower-cost care pathways.”
“They didn't cover treatment for my rectal glaucoma so I can't see my ass snitching.”
“CEOs of predatory corporations getting popped, turn this up. Peace out, Brian Thompson.”
For as long as I can remember, when I've made a note in my journal referencing my healthcare insurance, I have put the word in quotes—“healthcare”—because of my intimate acquaintance and experience with the abhorrent morass perpetuated in order to continue lining the pockets of shareholders, all while the people their companies purport to serve struggle, suffer, and often die indignant deaths that could easily have been prevented had their care not been entrusted to the dictates of a parasitic industry.
I grew up watching a primary caregiver remain sick and trapped in a system that preferred to keep it that way rather than to help them heal and lose a cash cow. Throughout my life, I've experienced various troublesome elements—features, not bugs—of the system, from bills that would have bankrupted me were I in a different financial circumstance to denied coverage and inability to access essential care.
As the CEO assassination laid bare, my frustration is shared by millions of Americans who have their own intimate experiences of this sadistic shakedown. The majority of Americans support single-payer, universal healthcare—and yet it was nowhere to be found in the platform of either major political party in 2024. Public support of the assassin and his act has led to much conversation around violence being normalized, and how this represents a sad new chapter in American history. While I have personally always been averse to violence (and firearms in particular) and count among my foremost heroes Henry David Thoreau—from whom was gleaned the concept of non-violent civil disobedience espoused by Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, et al.—I also find it necessary to remember that the definition of violence is subjective and relative to environment and circumstance. One take I adore is from comedian Cody Woods, who in discussing contrasting practices of child rearing between races muses: “Some black comedians say white people don't hit their kids. That's bullshit. Poor white people hit their fucking kids. You have to hit kids if you're on a budget.” The joke illustrates the extent to which non-violence is a privilege of those who can afford it, and the way cycles of poverty and violence are intertwined.
In the immediate aftermath of the incident, I was incensed (though not entirely surprised) by pundits who clutched their pearls and lectured the public about how violence was no way to solve problems. Chalk another one up for asinine, out-of-touch corporate bootlickers (who are largely the same folks abetting a Democratic party that arrogantly and unsuccessfully attempted to force an undemocratically-selected candidate down the people's throats, all while attacking their opponent as a threat to democracy). The ignorance and entitlement was staggering—especially in the wake of the (hopefully humbling) electoral loss. Rather than attempt to understand millions of fellow citizens who've been inhumanely victimized so that executives and shareholders can get that next vacation home in Park City, they chose to moralize and admonish a sentiment that—however unconsciously—they know has the potential to upend the entire damn system should the discontent continue to spread.
Perhaps you're thinking: 'I understand the outrage—but there are other ways to express it, non-violent channels e.g. through the legal system, etc.' This thinking ignores the unfortunate reality that the American legal system—like so much else in the country—is rigged to favor the rich and powerful, and is virtually off-limits to those of lesser means. The legal framework one would encounter to address concerns is a contrivance of the industry and their lobbyists; the best case scenario for a plaintiff might be a measly settlement from the corporation that would hardly remedy the wrongdoing.
Also for those insisting that violence does not solve the problem, here's a cold fact: within approximately 24 hours of the murder, Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield announced that it would reverse a controversial policy decision that would limit anesthesia coverage.
Additionally, there's a sickening truth to the unconscious way we are quick to condemn violence when the victim is a wealthy white male—and then are willing to overlook and endorse the unconscionable violence and atrocities perpetrated against the people of Gaza and the West Bank. Apples and oranges, you say? But when it comes to human life, it’s like the father in My Big Fat Greek Wedding says: we’re all fruit. It is an indisputable fact that our conception of violence is contingent upon to whom it is done. In order to excuse their violence, the Israeli government—with the steadfast support of the United States—has systematically dehumanized the Palestinian people, which is exactly what the United States did to the people of Iraq, to the Vietnamese, to the Somalis, to Black people in the United States, and to countless other populations upon which it sought—or still seeks—to justify the exercise of violence. So whether it's violence in the form of the barbarous massacre of a civilian population—including tens of thousands of children savagely and needlessly killed, maimed, starved, traumatized, and displaced—or the systematic violence perpetrated against millions of Americans via corporate greed, or violence that sees a wealthy insurance executive murked, violence is baked into the American way. The powerful use it systematically; the people use it reactively. And when the system continues to fail the people, and justice beyond violence remains a privilege of those with the means to afford it, violence becomes the medium to which many are resigned.
In a contemplative moment of a favorite film of mine, Walter Salles' The Motorcycle Diaries, Alberto Granado schemes whimsically to a young Ernesto Guevara—then a medical student and in the middle of a life-changing journey with his biochemist buddy—about his idea to organize a non-violent indigenous people's revolution. The man who would become El Che responds soberly: "A revolution without guns? It'll never work." Even Martin Luther King Jr., one of the paragons of non-violent resistance, admitted that violence has been essential throughout history to bring about change; successful revolutions in Haiti, France, Russia, Cuba, and the United States bear this out. Alas, like Dr. King, I still believe in the power and dignity of non-violence, as we have seen Che's sentiment disproved and nonviolent movements that have succeeded in bringing about meaningful and lasting change.
The war in Gaza is being waged by a criminal government in Israel that is led by a Prime Minister whose future—as both politician and free citizen—is tied to the continuation of war; Netanyahu and his defense minister Yoav Gallant have been accused by the International Criminal Court of war crimes and crimes against humanity, including deliberate starvation, persecution, murder, and other inhumane acts, and the court has issued warrants for their arrest. (Netanyahu has predictably dismissed these accusations as antisemitism, the reliable-yet-ersatz ace up his sleeve.) His government’s merciless extermination campaign is endorsed by the American government, which is itself governed by corporatocratic interests whose sole and singular goal is to keep the spigot open and profits flowing, regardless of the death and human suffering that are the byproducts of their business interests. Meanwhile, the governments of Canada, the United Kingdom, Italy, Spain, Belgium and the Netherlands have restricted or entirely cut off military aid to Israel. The case brought by South Africa in the International Court of Justice, accusing Israel of decades-long apartheid, occupation, blockade and now genocide in Gaza, has now been joined by the over 30 world governments. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, the United Nations Special Committee, Doctors Without Borders, and a growing number of experts and organizations now accuse Israel of ethnic cleansing and/or genocide.
To be clear (though frankly I'm annoyed that I feel the need to clarify this): I am not anti-Israel, and it is not anti-semitic to criticize the policies of an extremist Israeli government, their underwriters, and continued systematic violence against a civilian population under the pretense of self-defense.
The horrific trajectory of the war in Vietnam was successfully obstructed by the pressures of an engaged citizenry, including clergy, lawyers, physicians, military veterans, educators, and working-class folks of all stripes. Ending the atrocities in Gaza, and combating the oligarchy, inequality, and injustice at home will be up to us, the people—and it will take concerted, collective, and direct action. It is action that we must take, so that when we look back at this moment and one of the most destructive and inhumane military campaigns in our lifetimes, we will know that we did not simply stand by and allow it to happen. Maybe we'll even get to know that we helped to end it.
The following are among Michael Corthell's points of import for resisting oligarchic rule, ever-so-slightly tweaked, from his recent essay:
Grassroots activism advocating for campaign finance reform, universal healthcare, reproductive freedom, de-militarization, stronger worker protections, and a living wage.
Unionization and cooperativization, empowering workers to secure fair wages, benefits, and healthy working conditions.
Progressive taxation, to ensure the wealthy pay their fair share to reduce inequality and fund essential public services.
Antitrust enforcement, establishing and enforcing laws to curb excessive corporate concentration and promote competition.
In the closing chapters of his seminal A People's History of the United States, Howard Zinn includes three separate but congruent passages, emphasizing the import of We, the People:
“The democratic principle, enunciated in the words of the Declaration of Independence, declared that government was secondary, that the people who established it were primary. Thus the future of democracy depended on the people, and their growing consciousness of what was the decent way to relate to their fellow human beings all over the world.”
“If democracy were to be given any meaning, if it were to go beyond the limits of capitalism and nationalism, this would not come—if history were any guide—from the top. It would come through citizens' movements, educating, organizing, agitating, striking, boycotting, demonstrating, threatening those in power with disruption of the stability they needed.”
“..we have in this country, dominated by corporate wealth and military power and two antiquated political parties, what a fearful conservative characterized as 'a permanent adversarial culture', challenging the present, demanding a new future. It is a race in which we can all choose to participate, or just to watch. But we should know that our choice will help determine the outcome.”
When it comes to protest songs, there's a gallimaufry to choose from—'We Shall Overcome', 'Strange Fruit', 'Mississippi Goddamn', 'A Change is Gonna Come', 'For What It's Worth', 'People Get Ready', 'Fight the Power', 'Imagine'—but arguably one of the finest and most impactful is Dylan's 'Blowin' in the Wind'.
In the final verse, he sings:
Yes, and how many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
And how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knows
That too many people have died?
The answers to Bob's questions may be eluding him and blowin' in the wind—but he's still asking the questions. The paradoxes do not keep him from puzzling, and there's a sense of presque vu—for while the quiddity may ultimately reside in the questions themselves and the solutions may remain evanescent, I hear him hopeful that the dogged pursuit will see someday a propitious gust blowin’ our way.