This article is a work in progress. // "Contrasting Strategies" by Tim Hjersted (CC 4.0)
The most common objection to nonviolent resistance—"it only works if your opponent has a conscience"—I've addressed in a prior article. But there are other serious critiques that deserve engagement, particularly this one: "This nonviolent stuff'll get you killed."
That's what Hartman Turnbow told Martin Luther King Jr. in 1964. Turnbow was a Black Mississippi farmer who'd faced down white supremacist terror. When Klansmen firebombed his home, he fought back with rifle fire. His warning carried hard-earned wisdom: in contexts of extreme violence with no state protection, pure pacifism can get you killed.
He was right. But his warning—and similar objections from the left today—often gets interpreted as rejecting strategic nonviolence entirely. The reality is more complex, and understanding that complexity matters for movements facing authoritarianism now.
Below, I address these common objections:
- "This nonviolent stuff'll get you killed"
- "Nonviolence only wins small reforms, never systemic change"
- "These victories just get absorbed back into the system"
- "They're already killing us—they don't need an excuse"
- “So you're saying we should just let them kill us?”
These arguments contain important truths and questions that require serious answers. Armed self-defense played crucial roles in past movements. Victories were often partial. Movements are messy coalitions where different tactics coexist. Training to maximize the chances we make it home is essential.
But I also see other objections, like:
Objection: "This nonviolent stuff'll get you killed"
Hartman Turnbow was one of the "First Fourteen" who attempted to register to vote in Holmes County in 1963. When his home was firebombed in May 1963, Turnbow fought off the attackers with rifle fire, explaining afterward: "I wasn't being non-nonviolent, I was just protectin' my family."
His point: In the context of systematic violence with no state protection, nonviolent protest won't keep you alive. Sometimes you need guns.
This objection names a genuine danger while missing the strategic picture.
What Turnbow got right
In rural Mississippi in the 1960s, nonviolent protesters absolutely needed armed community members for protection. When Klansmen came in the night to bomb homes and churches, nonviolent philosophy didn't stop them. Armed defenders did.
Fannie Lou Hamer said she kept a shotgun in every corner of her bedroom. C.O. Chinn sat outside movement meetings with a shotgun across his lap and a pistol by his side, telling CORE organizers: "This is my town and these are my people. I'm here to protect my people." When SNCC field secretaries traveled dangerous roads, local people with guns kept them alive.
Turnbow's statement wasn't theoretical—it came from lived experience of what it took to survive as a Black person challenging white supremacy in Mississippi. In that context, he was right: pure nonviolent pacifism without any armed defense could indeed get you killed.
What this misses strategically
But Turnbow's warning, while true about personal survival, doesn't address what actually created political change. Notice what happened:
- Turnbow and others registered to vote (nonviolent action)
- They faced violence
- They defended themselves (armed self-defense)
- The political victory came from the voter registration, not from the self-defense
Armed self-defense kept activists alive to continue organizing. But the organizing itself—the voter registration drives, the sit-ins, the freedom rides, the marches—was nonviolent direct action. That's what created the political crises that forced change.
Consider the full context: Turnbow stepped forward at the courthouse and declared, "Me, Hartman Turnbow. I came here to die to vote. I'm the first." That was an act of nonviolent courage that inspired a movement. When he fought off the firebombers weeks later, that was survival. Both mattered. But they served different functions.
The strategic distinction
Turnbow's armed defense worked because it remained defensive. He wasn't launching armed attacks on the courthouse or assassinating segregationist officials.
Defensive gun use didn't provide pretexts for massive state repression. When Turnbow shot back at night riders attacking his home, it didn't give the federal government an excuse to send troops to crush the movement. In fact, he was arrested and charged with arson—the authorities claimed he firebombed his own house. The absurdity of that charge helped expose the injustice.
But armed revolutionary rhetoric—even without offensive action—provided pretexts for crushing repression.
The RAM case study
The Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM) offers a devastating example. Founded in 1963 by young activists led by Max Stanford (Muhammad Ahmad) and Robert Franklin Williams, RAM was a Marxist-Leninist organization that fused Black nationalism with Maoism. RAM advocated armed revolution as the only way to fundamentally alter American society.
Despite its small size and relative obscurity, RAM's militant posture made it a target. By 1965, undercover FBI agents had infiltrated the organization. In June 1967, police rounded up seventeen RAM members in predawn raids. In September 1967, seven members were charged with conspiring to assassinate leaders, blow up city hall, and poison the police force.
Here's the critical detail: The charges were mostly conspiracy and intent, built heavily on informant testimony about alleged plots and fiery speeches or militant rhetoric—rather than any actual violent acts committed. In spring 1967, J. Edgar Hoover branded Max Stanford "the most dangerous man in America.
With most of the leadership in prison, under surveillance, or in hiding, RAM collapsed in 1968—having achieved none of its revolutionary goals.
But the real damage went far beyond RAM itself. RAM became one of the early cases the FBI cited internally to justify and refine operations that harassed civil rights and Black nationalist groups throughout the 1960s.
In July-August 1967, the FBI began "COINTELPRO-BLACK HATE," which focused on King and the SCLC, as well as SNCC, the Deacons for Defense and Justice, CORE, and the Nation of Islam. Note the tragic irony: The official rationale for COINTELPRO was that organizations under surveillance were likely to commit acts of violence. In fact, few arrests were ever made for violent crimes. Most targeted organizations, such as King's Southern Christian Leadership Conference, were explicitly nonviolent.
RAM's armed revolutionary rhetoric gave Hoover exactly the pretext he needed to attack the entire movement—including groups that were genuinely nonviolent.
The Black Liberation Army, which did engage in armed actions against police, emerged largely from the fragments of groups that COINTELPRO had already shattered—including remnants of RAM and the Black Panther Party after it faced devastating infiltration and the assassination of leaders like Fred Hampton. The BLA faced even more crushing repression.
The pattern: advocating armed resistance—regardless of whether violence actually occurred—gave the state exactly the justification it needed to attack both armed and nonviolent movements alike.
What this means now
Armed self-defense—practiced with iron discipline—still has a feasible place within movements. But the primary threat today for most organizers isn't right-wing extremists.
Contemporary authoritarianism—with surveillance tech, militarized police, and a culture glorifying state violence—shifts the tactical math dramatically. Armed self-defense against assaulting cops or ICE agents today carries the risk of near-certain death.
If the goal is staying alive, armed resistance against the modern state is far more likely to get you killed than nonviolent resistance.
Nonviolence is still risky—but the question is which approach minimizes risk while maximizing chances of success.
Objection: "Nonviolence can only win small reforms, never systemic change"
This critique often comes packaged with claims that nonviolent victories get co-opted, that movements only maintained capitalism, that radical economic demands got watered down. There's truth here—movements do get co-opted. The transformation of MLK from a democratic socialist who challenged capitalism and militarism into a sanitized icon of liberal incrementalism is a perfect example.
But the claim that nonviolence can only win "small reforms" ignores the most transformative victories in modern history:
- Indian independence — Ending 200 years of colonial rule
- Ending US segregation — Dismantling a system of racial apartheid that existed for generations
- Ending South African apartheid — Overturning an entire constitutional system
- Solidarity in Poland — Catalyzing the collapse of Soviet communism across Eastern Europe
- People Power in the Philippines — Overthrowing a 20-year dictatorship
- Velvet Revolution — Ending 41 years of Communist rule in Czechoslovakia
- Singing Revolution — Three Baltic nations regaining independence from the USSR
These were systemic transformations achieved primarily through mass nonviolent action, in contexts where earlier armed struggles had not produced comparable change.
Research by Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephan examining 323 violent and nonviolent campaigns from 1900-2006 found that nonviolent campaigns were twice as likely to succeed as violent ones. This held across different regime types, geographic regions, and time periods.
"But those movements had violent elements too"
Yes—and the research accounts for this. The finding isn't that successful movements had zero violence anywhere. It's that success correlated with the nonviolent campaign's ability to mobilize mass participation, not with the presence or strength of violent flanks.
The Civil Rights Movement had armed self-defense elements (Deacons for Defense, armed community members). The anti-apartheid movement had Umkhonto we Sizwe. The Indian independence movement had armed factions. Some argue these violent flanks helped by making moderates look reasonable or providing protection.
The research complicates this picture. Chenoweth and Schock's study of 106 cases found no statistical relationship between violent flanks and campaign success—positive and negative effects cancel each other out. But when they examined individual cases, armed movements were consistently shown not to protect nonviolent activists but to put them at greater risk, as authorities used the presence of armed actors to justify repression against all resistance movements. Violent flanks also reduced mass participation—and mass participation is the strongest predictor of success.
Chenoweth and Schock conclude "that large-scale maximalist nonviolent campaigns often succeed despite intra- or extramovement violent flanks, but seldom because of them." What created the political crises that forced change was mass nonviolent mobilization—the boycotts, strikes, marches, and non-cooperation that made systems ungovernable.
On partial victories
Yes, the Civil Rights Act had limitations. But this critique ignores what was actually won: the legal dismantling of Jim Crow, the Voting Rights Act that enfranchised millions, the foundation for fair housing laws.
When movements win partial victories, the question is why. Sometimes it's because the tactic wasn't powerful enough. But often it's because the movement itself had limited demands—constrained by the dominant ideology, internal divisions, or lack of solidarity consciousness. Early suffrage movements won the vote for white women because that's what many of those movements fought for—a failure of vision, not of nonviolent tactics.
Nonviolent resistance is a tool. What you win depends on what you fight for, who you build coalition with, and whether you can sustain pressure long enough to achieve it. The tool doesn't limit the vision—the movement does.
Objection: "These victories just get absorbed back into the system"
A related critique: "Nonviolent resistance wins temporary concessions, but then movements lose momentum, gains get rolled back, and the underlying system reasserts itself. We keep repeating this cycle."
But this conflates two questions: whether nonviolent resistance can force political change, and whether movements can sustain those gains over generations.
The Civil Rights Movement didn't dismantle capitalism. Chile still operates under economics Pinochet embedded in their constitution. Apartheid ended but economic inequality persists in South Africa. These are real limitations—but they're not failures of the tactic. They're failures of sustained organizing in the face of massive, well-funded opposition.
A tactic isn't a silver bullet
Putting the burden of "ending neoliberalism" on nonviolent resistance is like blaming a hammer for not being a house. Nonviolent resistance is a tactic—a powerful one—but no single tactic is a silver bullet for achieving socialism.
Getting to genuine social democracy requires more than strikes and boycotts. It requires sustained organizing over decades, political education, building alternative institutions, winning people to new economic arrangements, and maintaining movements across generations.
The question isn't "did nonviolent resistance solve everything?" It's "which approach builds a foundation for that longer transformation?"
The alternative doesn't deliver either
The critique implies armed struggle would achieve deeper transformation. The historical record doesn't support this.
Armed revolutions that "won" frequently replaced one form of concentrated power with another. The Russian Revolution led to Stalinism. The Chinese Revolution led to Mao and later market authoritarianism. Cuba replaced one autocracy with another. If the standard is "achieved democratic socialism," armed struggle has an even worse track record than nonviolent resistance.
Meanwhile, the Nordic labor movements of the 1920s-30s used sustained nonviolent resistance—strikes, boycotts, mass non-cooperation—to break the power of the 1% and build social democracy. That didn't happen because strikes are magic. It happened because workers built organizations, sustained pressure across years, created alternative institutions, and won enough people to their side to shift power fundamentally.
Sliding back is an organizing failure
When neoliberalism reasserts itself, that's not a failure of nonviolent resistance—it's a failure of sustained organizing.
The Civil Rights Movement won specific battles. That later generations didn't maintain the pressure, that the movement's radical economic wing was violently crushed by COINTELPRO, that white America found new ways to maintain hierarchy—these are failures of follow-through and coalition maintenance amid massive forces bent on manufacturing consent.
The 1930s labor movement won. That Reagan later crushed unions doesn't mean strikes don't work—it means the long-term project of building and maintaining power requires constant vigilance.
Objection: "They're already killing us—they don't need an excuse"
This objection names a devastating reality: the state does commit violence against nonviolent movements. Bloody Sunday happened to people marching peacefully. Police brutalized civil rights protesters who never raised a fist. Fred Hampton was assassinated in his sleep. COINTELPRO targeted Martin Luther King Jr. and SCLC despite their explicit commitment to nonviolence. In 2020, 93% of Black Lives Matter demonstrations involved no violence or property destruction, yet were met with tear gas, rubber bullets, and mass arrests.
The argument is powerful: If the state brutalizes nonviolent movements anyway, if they infiltrate and attack us regardless of our tactics, if they're already killing us—why does nonviolence matter strategically? They don't need us to give them an excuse. They'll make one up if they need to.
But this misses a crucial distinction: state violence that delegitimizes the state versus state violence that strengthens it.
When nonviolent movements face state violence:
1. The violence backfires. Images of police attacking peaceful protesters on the Edmund Pettus Bridge generated national outrage that accelerated passage of the Voting Rights Act. Videos of police brutalizing nonviolent Black Lives Matter protesters in 2020 helped shift public opinion and fueled internal law enforcement scrutiny. State violence against clearly peaceful movements creates legitimacy crises that have the potential to force change when combined with demands and focused campaigns targeting decision-makers.
2. Security forces experience moral injury and defect. Police and soldiers ordered to attack people who aren't fighting back face psychological costs that lead to defections and refusal to follow orders. The nonviolent resistance in the Philippines succeeded in part because soldiers refused to fire on peaceful crowds.
3. The state pays political costs domestically and internationally. When governments attack nonviolent movements, they face pressure from their own populations, international sanctions, and diplomatic isolation.
When armed resistance faces state violence:
1. The violence is justified and normalized. "They shot first" becomes the story. Media frames it as two sides fighting, not as state repression of dissent. The brutal response is seen as appropriate defense against "violent extremists" or "domestic terrorists."
2. Public opinion shifts away from the movement. Most people fear chaos and instability more than they oppose injustice. Armed confrontation makes movements easy to frame as threats to public safety, pushing potential allies toward supporting state repression.
3.Security forces feel morally justified and experience less defection. It's psychologically easier to shoot people who are shooting at you. Armed resistance eliminates the moral injury that creates cracks in state institutions.
4. The state gains justification for emergency powers. Armed resistance provides pretext for martial law, suspension of civil liberties, and expanded surveillance.
The state wants us to fight back violently
The state wants to portray movements as violent threats. When movements actually engage in armed resistance, they're handing the state exactly the narrative it needs.
State violence against nonviolent movements creates a dilemma for authorities. They either back down (losing face) or attack peaceful people (losing legitimacy). State violence against armed movements creates no such dilemma—it's just "law enforcement" doing its job.
The strategic question isn't "will the state use violence against us?" It will. The question is: what makes that violence backfire against the state rather than strengthen it?
The answer, proven across dozens of successful movements, is maintaining nonviolent discipline while the state attacks people who clearly pose no violent threat.
State violence as strategic weakness vs. strategic strength
When police beat peaceful protesters, they reveal their own illegitimacy. When police respond to armed attacks, they appear to be doing their jobs.
Nonviolent resistance doesn't prevent state violence—but it transforms that violence from a source of state strength into a source of state weakness.
Yes, they're killing us. Yes, they'll continue to use violence. But whether that violence strengthens them or destroys them depends on whether we give them the justification they desperately need—or whether we maintain the moral and strategic high ground that makes their violence indefensible.
Objection: "So you're saying we should just let them kill us?"
No. Absolutely not.
Strategic nonviolence isn't about passively accepting violence. It's about surviving encounters while denying the state the justification it needs for escalation.
First, it's worth noting that many of the most powerful nonviolent tactics don't involve direct confrontation with police at all. Boycotts, strikes, work stoppages, and other forms of non-cooperation can dismantle a regime's pillars of support without ever putting yourself in front of a baton. The riskiest actions are the ones that bring you face-to-face with armed agents of the state: filming ICE raids, blocking deportation vehicles, occupying government or corporate buildings, or any situation where arrest is likely. People engaging in those actions should be as prepared as possible.
During the Civil Rights Movement, activists heading into dangerous situations like sit-ins and marches trained extensively beforehand. They practiced what to do when attacked—how to protect their heads, how to fall, how to stay nonviolent under assault. They learned survival basics that still apply today: stay calm, keep your hands visible, take steps back, don't argue or physically resist even if you believe your rights are being violated. Assert your rights verbally, not physically. Physical resistance gives officers justification for escalating force and can result in additional charges. Police and federal agents operate under qualified immunity, which shields them from accountability even for unjustified killings. When the law protects them and not you, preparation becomes essential.
Some activists use singing and chanting as a tactical tool—not just for morale, but for safety. Songs ease fear, create group unity, and force attackers to deal with the crowd rather than isolate individuals. Police and right-wing vigilante groups both use the same tactic: single someone out, because it's easier to escalate violence against one person. Moving in groups, never arriving or leaving alone, and using songs to bind together as a visible unit all counter this.
Contemporary protest training builds on these lessons. When tension rises between demonstrators and police, experienced de-escalators will form a buffer line—some facing officers, some facing protesters—and calmly ask everyone to take two steps back. Simple chants like "We're nonviolent—how about you?" can shift the energy of a confrontation before it escalates.
Sometimes compliance is survival. If you're being arrested, don't resist physically. Know your rights, but exercise them through words and lawyers, not your body.
Preparation means knowing de-escalation tactics. Organizations like the ACLU, Activist Handbook, and the National Lawyers Guild publish detailed guides on protest safety and know-your-rights training—study them before you need them.
The goal isn't martyrdom. It's staying alive to keep organizing—while denying the state the violent confrontation it's hoping for.
As Jackie Summers writes in a powerful piece full of practical tips, "We need you alive. If you choose to go out, you need more than vibes. You need a plan. This is about maximizing safety and impact. Not about looking brave on Instagram. If you’re going out, your first job is coming home."
Objection: "Nonviolence is FBI propaganda"
This claim has become a popular attack against anyone promoting the effectiveness of nonviolent resistance. It's ahistorical and, ironically, mirrors the very tactics it pretends to expose.
COINTELPRO targeted militant and nonviolent groups alike—and specifically worked to sow discord between the two. The FBI went after Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. because both were threats, and both were primarily focused on mass organizing. Neither engaged in offensive violence against the state.
Malcolm X, despite being famous for saying "by any means necessary," never engaged in offensive violence. He believed in armed self-defense and organizing people at scale. King likewise supported armed self-defense to protect nonviolent activism—Fannie Lou Hamer kept shotguns in every corner of her bedroom, and armed community members protected organizers throughout the South.
The Black Panthers promoted armed self-defense, class-based coalitions, and community survival programs like free breakfast for children. They did not engage in offensive armed struggle against the state. They were working to organize the masses. That's what scared the FBI—and that's why the FBI destroyed them.
If the FBI supported nonviolence, why did they assassinate nonviolent leaders? Why did they spend millions infiltrating, disrupting, and crushing movements built on mass non-cooperation? The claim collapses under the weight of the actual historical record.
To be clear: my argument isn't against armed self-defense. It's against offensive armed struggle as a strategy for revolution in the US context. These are different things, and conflating them serves to confuse rather than clarify.
The "nonviolence is FBI propaganda" talking point functions as divide-and-conquer—fragmenting the left by discrediting tactics with a proven track record while promoting strategies the state knows exactly how to crush. COINTELPRO documents show the FBI actively worked to pit militants against nonviolence advocates, amplifying divisions to weaken both. Seeing the same talking point flood comment sections in recent days, I have to wonder who benefits from that script being repeated.
Objection: "Nonviolence is for the privileged, not the oppressed"
This critique suggests that nonviolent resistance only works for those with existing safety, resources, or protection—that it's a luxury option unavailable to the truly oppressed. History shows the opposite.
The most successful nonviolent movements were led by people facing extreme violence with no institutional protection. Black Mississippians organizing voter registration drives in 1963 weren't operating from positions of privilege—they were among the most vulnerable people in America, facing lynching, firebombing, and systematic terror with no expectation of state protection. South African anti-apartheid activists faced massacres, torture, and permanent states of emergency. Indian independence organizers under colonial rule faced mass imprisonment, police violence, and execution.
These movements succeeded not despite their participants' vulnerability, but in part because nonviolent resistance was the only viable strategy available to people without armies or institutional power.
The "privilege" framing also misses who actually participates in movements. Nonviolent resistance enables broader participation—including by the most vulnerable: women, elderly, children, people with disabilities. Armed struggle privileges mostly young, able-bodied men and excludes most of the population from meaningful participation.
A movement that can only mobilize armed militants will always be outnumbered and outgunned by the state. A movement that can mobilize millions—including those who cannot or will not take up arms—becomes ungovernable.
The Deeper Problem: What's the Alternative?
The most significant weakness in these critiques isn't what they say about nonviolence—it's what they fail to offer as an alternative.
If nonviolent resistance can only win "small reforms," what's the proposed solution? Armed revolution? The 20th century is littered with the corpses of failed armed struggles—and the authoritarian regimes that emerged from the successful ones.
These critiques correctly note that many nonviolent victories were partial, co-opted, or left capitalism intact. But armed struggles produced the same outcomes (or worse), partial victories are better than total defeats, and creating space for democratic participation enables further struggle.
The movements that overthrew apartheid, Jim Crow, colonial rule, and Communist dictatorships weren't perfect. But they transformed the terrain in ways that armed struggle in those contexts had failed to do for decades.
A more honest assessment
Rather than romanticizing either approach, we should recognize the actual dynamics at play.
Nonviolent resistance isn't magic. It requires mass mobilization (hard to achieve), strategic planning (often absent), sustained commitment (people get tired), favorable conditions (sometimes missing), and protection against co-optation (always a risk).
Armed struggle isn't inherently more radical. It often fails militarily against better-armed states, justifies violent repression, produces authoritarian structures, and lacks broad popular support.
This last point deserves emphasis: armed struggle typically relies on small groups of militants rather than mass participation. This isn't just strategically weaker (easier to infiltrate and crush)—it's fundamentally anti-democratic, substituting vanguard action for the collective power of ordinary people organizing together.
The evidence is clear: strategic nonviolent resistance achieves systemic change far more effectively than armed struggle, particularly in contexts where the state has overwhelming military advantage. Armed self-defense may protect organizers, but armed rebellion against the state has consistently failed where mass nonviolent resistance has succeeded.
What Victory Actually Looks Like
In the 1920s-30s, workers in Sweden and Norway faced a choice remarkably similar to ours. The 1% owned virtually everything. Wealth inequality was extreme. Striking workers were met with deadly force—employers hiring goons to crush labor organizing, police killing strikers.
Swedish and Norwegian workers could have chosen armed revolution. Some advocated for it. The Russian Revolution had just happened. Armed struggle seemed like the "serious" response to deadly oppression.
Instead, they chose strategic nonviolent resistance—and over two decades, through waves of massive strikes, boycotts, and direct action, they broke the power of the 1%.
They built what we now call the Nordic model through sustained mass noncooperation that made the old system unsustainable. Workers occupied workplaces. Communities organized mutual aid networks. They created alternative economic structures. When the state deployed force, it backfired—every violent crackdown on peaceful protesters shifted more of the public to the workers' side, eroded police willingness to attack their neighbors, and isolated the ruling class politically.
The wealthy didn't surrender because they grew hearts. They surrendered because continuing to fight cost more than conceding. The strikes were too widespread to break. The solidarity was too deep to fracture. The economic disruption was unsustainable.
This wasn't a "small reform." This was transferring power from capital to labor in ways that reshaped society for generations. And it was achieved through strategic nonviolent resistance—even when that resistance faced deadly violence.
The Work Continues
We're facing a violent police state. ICE operates as modern slave patrols—raiding homes, separating families, and beating and killing protesters, while presiding over dozens of deaths in ICE detention centers just in the last year. Trump and his allies have signaled they're looking for any excuse to invoke the Insurrection Act. If one isn't provided, they may manufacture one, but if they pull this card too soon or on flimsy pretexts, they risk a backlash that could lead to mass defections among the military that could unravel their entire regime, with impeachment quickly following.
Bottomline: They want us to fight on their terms. They're prepared for that. A few armed resisters give them the "domestic terrorism" narrative they've been desperate to manufacture. That lie keeps blowing up in their faces because the movement has maintained discipline.
Mass non-cooperation is the way forward. Workers and state officials refusing to cooperate. A country that stops going along with it.
So ask yourself: Where does your own compliance flow into this system? What could you refuse? What could you disrupt?
But just remember, individual refusal only goes so far. The Nordic workers didn't win because a few brave individuals stopped cooperating. They won because they joined together—in unions, in community organizations, in movements that could sustain pressure over decades.
That's the work. Find the people already organizing in your community and join them. If they don't exist, become the person who starts the conversation. The infrastructure of resistance is built in living rooms, union halls, church basements, and group chats.
We have more power than we've been led to believe—if we organize to use it.
Tim Hjersted is the director and co-founder of Films For Action, a library dedicated to the people building a more free, regenerative and democratic society.
Subscribe on Substack for updates. You can contact the author here.