Violence, Non-Violence, or Nothing: Analyzing the

Methods of Non-Traditional Participation

Civil Disobedience

Prof. Christian Rostbøll

Exam Summer 2010, 10 ECTS

 

 

In March 2010, Thai citizens took to the streets and began pelting their current prime

minister’s home with bags of blood, collected drop by drop from the outraged supporters of the

former Prime Minister, Thaksin Shinawarta. This group called the Red Shirts grew increasingly

frustrated as their demands for justice and legitimate political participation went unanswered.

Thaksin was, as the Red Shirts cried out, ousted from his position illegally when forced out by a

coup in 2006. One year later, Thaksin allies regained governmental control by winning an

election. However, the victory was short lived when the government fell again to a rival. Red

Shirts activists decided after their attempts at legitimate governmental control by way of the

majority rule in a democratic voting structure were disregarded for the second time, it was the

time to show their disapproval in overwhelming numbers. The mass rioting on both sides of the

conflict escalated into several protests that turned violent, resulting in an ever-increasing death

toll. (BBC News, 2010)

Despite claims from Red Shirt activists that they remained non-violent, police

intervention and provocation from the other side has resulted in deaths for the cause. It is hard to

distinguish if their gory symbolism can even be considered non-violent, but the situation

becomes even more muddled when violence continually enters the arena of protest. It is

impossible to disagree that an act like this demands media attention and brings grievances to the

forefront, but is an act’s effectiveness the sole means by which it is judged right or wrong? With

situations like these, it becomes difficult to see if truly non-violent protest is even possible, or,

conversely, if violent protest can ever be justified. If not, is conscientious objection the answer

when grievances arise, or is any form of non-compliance of authority wrong in itself?

The very definition on civil disobedience has been highly disputed among political

theorists from Socrates to modern thinkers. Some believe the government has inherent and

sovereign power, which can never warrant actions such as the Red Shirt protests in Thailand, or

even ones more violent. Thomas Hobbes, in his explanation of social contract theory, put down

any justification for acts against the government. For Hobbes, sovereignty is absolute. In

Leviathan, he says, “nothing the sovereign representative can do to a subject… can properly be

called injustice or injury” (Hobbes, 1651: 138). His justification is that “perpetual war of every

man against his neighbour, [is] much worse” (Hobbes, 1651: 135). The concept of a “state of

nature” (Hobbes, 1651: 76), as Hobbes puts it, may seem a little outdated to modern readers, and

anyone will agree the period Hobbes was writing in was exponentially different than the one we

 

 

live in today. Most obviously, one can see that a modern democratic society does not hinge on

cooperation of every law in order to keep peace and the validity of rule in tact. Even Peter

Berkowitz, in his argument for the place of Hobbes in the modern classroom, concedes that

“priority should be given to the understanding of the historical context in which Hobbes lived

and wrote,” though saying that its need is often exaggerated (Berkowitz, 2008: 4).

Hobbes form of realism, as some brand it, is far from realistic in a modern sense. Noel

Malcolm states that “Hobbes's natural laws were rules for the attainment of peace” (Malcolm.

2005: 125), but it should be added that this peace was to be maintained at whatever cost, even

that of enduring life-long grievances and injustice. In Hobbes’ world, one either obeys the

sovereign or subjects themselves to a life of lawlessness and fear. The lack of any means of

objection is not only disturbing, but also shortsighted in a modern context. Jürgen Habermas

would call this type of thinking “the ‘law is law’ mentality,” something he sought to challenge

(Habermas, 1985: 101). Indeed, 38 years after Hobbes wrote Leviathan, Locke questioned this

mentality saying, “Which is better for mankind: that the people be always exposed to the

limitless will of tyranny, or that the rulers be sometimes liable…?” (Locke, 1980: 115) This idea

of accountability is one that has persisted into modern democracy, through checks and balance

systems like separate governmental branches and even the modern media acting as a watchdog

for political misdeeds. Locke obviously knew the revolutionary answer to the question of

authority before many of his contemporaries, which is that rulers should have to answer to their

subjects for the decisions they make. This is not only because the laws directly affect the people,

but also because Locke felt the people should have more say in what goes on during policy

making.

For Habermas, legitimacy cannot be based solely upon the legality of a decree handed

down by a sovereign, but on something deeper, like the collective morality of the citizens

(Habermas, 1985: 104). Berkowitz maintains that Hobbes says that no political morality exists

that has not first been established by the citizens (Berkowitz, 2008: 9). However, this does not

allow that the morality of the majority can and has been flawed by disregarding the rights of

entire sections of the population, and therefore, unjust. Furthermore, Berkowitz also realizes that

the very basis of Hobbes ideas on the natural rights of humans are not about “freedom of speech

or religion or association, but the rudimentary right to preserve one’s life and limb by whatever

means necessary” (Berkowitz, 2008: 16). This idea of the existence of only the most basic

 

 

human rights is extremely narrow-minded in a modern context. In modern America, if you took

away a citizen’s gun or denied them the ability to worship any god but the Christian one, there

would be outrage. This is simply because times have changed. The common people have more of

a demand on what exactly their rights are. Hobbes’ political thinking seems rooted in paranoia of

violence, so any disturbance or defiance of the law is a direct enemy of peace, unless one

disobeys for self-preservation. Protection of oneself is of the utmost importance, which,

interestingly enough, goes against almost every other philosopher on the matter of civil

disobedience.

Socrates perhaps goes even further than Hobbes in his ideas of authoritarian legalism, as

spelled out in Plato’s Crito. He believed disobedience to a state that one formed a social contract

with was unacceptable, even in the face of death, though throughout his life he consistently

challenged the common people’s ideals. He says, “one must not even do wrong when one is

wronged” (Bedau, 1991: 20). His grievance, as he saw it, was against the judges as individuals,

not against the state as a whole, so to do the state an injustice by disobeying would be morally

reprehensible. This type of pacifism turns Ronald Dworkin’s “integrity-based” disobedience on

its side. Dworkin speaks of one’s moral conscience making it impossible to obey certain laws

(Dworkin, 1985: 107). Conversely, Socrates’ convictions made it impossible for him to disobey.

It might be assumed that Socrates would follow his convictions, regardless of whether it

conflicted the state, to fulfill his concept of morality. However, it becomes clear that, similar to

Hobbes, Socrates’ convictions and idea of rightness revolved around the state. Above all, being a

good citizen was most important. To Hannah Arendt, the idea of being a good citizen is vastly

different than Socrates’ view. Arendt sees a good citizen as someone who fully participates in the

political sphere, someone who makes their voice known and does so on behalf of the common

good (Arendt, 1969: 65). Therefore, Socrates’ blind obedience to an unjust verdict made it so,

not only he was wrongly executed, but, perhaps, many more could have been wrongly executed

in the same manner. His obedience to the verdict ensured his death and silenced his political

voice. At the same time, he did so for personal moral reason and not the common good, making

it hard to view him as a good citizen in Arendt’s view.

Clearly, like Hobbes, Socrates saw disobedience to the city-state as a destructive force for

political society. On this point, Socrates makes an interesting point regarding the definition of

violence in Crito. Like civil disobedience itself, violence has not been universally defined, and

 

 

changes from author to author. Socrates says, “violence is a sin even against your parents, and it

is a far greater sin against your country”(Bedau, 1991: 23). Violence, more typically defined,

involves the harm towards an individual or his property, and is sometimes more narrowly

construed as physical harm to a person. Socrates takes this concept of harm further to apply to

the state. Disobedience, as he sees it, harms the state, and should therefore be avoided at all

costs.

As we can clearly see through acts of modern protest, this just is not the case. Modern

society can handle disobedience. It does not fall apart, and while some imperfections are shown,

it is not, for the most part, being portrayed by protesters as flawed as a whole. Dworkin perhaps

put it most simply when he said, “Civil disobedience is no longer a frightening idea in the United

States” (Dworkin, 1985: 105). This, of course, can be extended past the United States to all

modern participatory democracies because they hinge on the voice of the citizens, instead of the

suppression of it like in a totalitarian regime. In order to keep the peace in a society that is mostly

viewed as just, there has to be a means for citizens to voice grievances that cannot be silenced by

a majority vote. If unjust laws exist, society must allow a means for correcting the injustice,

thereby creating a sustainable constitutional society throughout the change of time and morality.

Henry David Thoreau, unlike Hobbes and Socrates, allowed that unjust laws may in fact

exist, and one should not comply with such laws (Bedau, 1991: 35). His method of disobedience

perhaps more closely mirrors that which Dworkin described as integrity-based than Socrates’

integrity-based obedience. Thoreau refused to pay his due to a government that he suspected

would only use his tax money to spend on a war he objected and the enforcement of unjust laws,

more specifically the recapture of runaway slaves. However, many modern political thinkers

have criticized his means of protest. While it may make sense to remove funding, and therefore

symbolically display a lack of support and participation, doing so on a personal level lacks the

voice and collective effort necessary to institute any real change. If Thoreau’s goal was to place

some sort of embargo on tax money in order to pressure his government into change, doing so on

such a small scale would make little to no difference.

While Thoreau was certainly civil and obviously disobedient, one could argue that his

sheer lack of impact of civil society is what limits his actions from being true civil disobedience.

According to Cohen and Arato, “what distinguishes civil disobedience from conscientious

refusal is that it is public… not being concealed… and of appealing to the general political

 

 

principles of justice” (Cohen and Arato, 1992: 571). If civil disobedience is the fight reaction of

the sympathetic nervous system that is modern alternative participatory politics, then Thoreau’s

brand of conscientious objection could be considered the flight response. It is removing oneself

from an unsatisfactory situation, a complete washing one’s hands of the issue. Hannah Arendt

perhaps described his actions best when she called them flat-out “unpolitical” (Arendt, 1969:

60).

It can be said that “Thoreau believed that the key to reforming society was the reform of

individuals” (Jenco, 2003: 361), but his actions were strictly based on personal feelings that were

voiced in private and never developed any further. Reform on an individual level is self-

improvement, not political involvement. Due to its lack of impact, Thoreau’s civil disobedience

may be easiest to justify, but it is also the most ineffective means to any end. In this case, the

effectiveness of the action of conscientious objection is most pertinent. Like Antigone’s protest

of burying her brother when the king decreed it illegal (Sophocles, 2005: 16), it is justifiable to

carry out personal dissention, but it just does not assist society as a collective entity.

Furthermore, Gandhi, in his justification for non-violent protest, says pacifism or inaction

is the worst way to bring about change. It can be argued that Socrates and Hobbes were not

aiming to change their systems of government, but within the constructs of a democratic society,

change is sometimes a necessity to keep a society relevant for modern times, and even to deter a

full-scale revolution. In this argument against inaction, Gandhi also makes his only justification

for violent action. He states, “I would rather have India resort to arms in order to defend her

honour than that she should, in a cowardly manner, become or remain a helpless witness to her

own dishonour” (Gandhi, 1934: 472). Though Gandhi sees violence as the lesser of two evils in

this scenario, it does raise an interesting point: that violence, which he considers as wholly sinful,

is preferable to inaction. Not making any action to voice grievances is therefore more sinful than

acting violently, even to the man many consider as the father of non-violence. One can use his

justification of the “swiftness” or effectiveness of non-violent action to add consistency to his

claim that violence is better than inaction. If non-violence is the most effective method of protest

to Gandhi because it ensures dignity on both sides while making injustice known, violence is

preferable to inaction due to its ability to at the very least make those injustices known. Not

acting and agreeing, to Gandhi, is one and the same in its effectiveness for change.

All of that being said, Gandhi should not to be confused with a proponent of violent

 

 

action. Gandhi’s beliefs can even be considered as a complete reversal of Hobbes’, for he states

that, “when it is a choice between killing oneself or the assailant, I have no doubt in my mind

that the first should be the choice” (Gandhi, 1934: 496). Instead of putting self-preservation on a

pedestal, Gandhi promotes long-suffering and lofty moral standards such as selflessness and

altruism. According to Martin Luther King Jr., another famous supporter of non-violent action,

an intensive self-purification process precedes this type of selfless action. The process demands

an introspective analysis of one’s ability to give oneself to a cause, accepting of any negative

consequences that may result from the act (Bedau, 1991: 69). Therefore, it is hard to imagine that

any citizen could join any cause just based on support. These rigorous standards make it so only

the selfless can participate in civil disobedience. While it is important to perform civil

disobedience for the common good, it is equally likely that some actors may have more selfish

reasons to get involved. If the goal of civil disobedience is to act completely magnanimously,

one can expect a relatively small group of protesters. Eliminating those feats of altruism may be

the key to getting more support, more attention, and a swifter response to grievances.

More realistically, Gandhi concedes that true non-violence can never be attained because

“all have to destroy life,” even to eat or walk (Gandhi, 1934: 444). Despite the non-violent ideals

of fully giving oneself to a cause unselfishly and with dignity, a great deal of modern

philosophers sees different advantages to non-violent protest. Andrew Sabl says non-violence

gives “regard for future possibilities” (Sabl, 2009: 310). Many supporters of strictly non-violent

action say that violence is a cyclical force, one that is met with and perpetuated by only more

violence. The only way, for Gandhi and King, to break this violent cycle is to meet it with

peaceful and upright action. This thinking ignores instances like the American and French

Revolutions, which were bloodied struggles for independence from non-representative

monarchies that did end in peaceful democratic societies. While it is possible that violent means

can sometimes achieve non-violent ends, the fact remains that non-violent disobedience does

clear the air, at least on one side of the conflict, of initial violence.

Interestingly, the face of non-violent protest is changing with the advent of modern

technology. According to Dominguez, massive virtual sit-ins have been used to protest events

like the war in Iraq and American immigration reform (Dominguez, 2008: 661). However, one

might wonder how influential an electronic protest might be. With all the other bloggers and

online editorialists, this type of so-called action might just end up white noise in the dregs of the

 

 

information superhighway. Dominguez calls this difference “being there and being digitally

there” (Dominguez, 2008: 661). One tactic of being digitally there is to swarm a Web site, which

overloads the server and prevents people from being able to visit a site (Dominguez, 2008: 662).

While this temporarily cuts off the dissemination of incendiary or unfavorable information, it

really does little more than that. If civil disobedience is a public voicing of grievances, electronic

disobedience hardly counts in that the Internet provides a shield of anonymity to anyone

committing these acts (Calabrese, 2004: 335). Furthermore, it is even difficult to classify this

action as disobedience, as there is no law against going to a Web site with a group of other

people. If there was, anyone who visits Google or Facebook on a regular basis could easily be

arrested. This action is less like civil disobedience and more like civil naughtiness or cyber

stalling.

However, as Calabrese suggests, this type of activism fills a void for a means of

communication that is still relatively new (Calabrese, 2004: 327). If it is necessary to have a

means to voice grievances such as civil disobedience, it certainly should be available in an outlet

that is so widely used. The question of actual impact and effectiveness still lurks in this topic

though. Is it possible to make any electronic noise loud enough and in enough numbers to make

any difference or even turn heads? It seems unlikely with the Internet’s ability to give a voice to

anyone anywhere at anytime. There is just too much going on. Admittedly, relatively few

Internet users even noticed the shutdown of the Web sites Dominguez was referring to. When

everyone has a voice that speaks equally loud, no one has a distinct voice. To this end, electronic

disobedience ends up being more like a bureaucratic breakdown where no one is visible,

responsible, or distinguishable from the crowd. A “rule by Nobody” (Arendt, 1969: 137) filters

out the impact of the intensity of emotion that the action of disobedience provides. Electronic

civil disobedience is also difficult to calculate in terms of actual numerical representation. One

hacker can shut down a Web site in the same way that thousands of people can. Unlike a

traditional sit-in, the transparency of support in numbers just is not there.

In the end, while Gordon Schochet suggests that civil and non-violent disobedience are,

in fact, synonymous (Schochet, 1971: 241), a violent act done with the intention of calling

attention to an unjust law in the interest of the common good could still be viewed as civil in the

respect that it was done for the benefit of civil society. Perhaps Schochet is confusing civil

disobedience with disobeying in civility. As Joseph Raz points out, non-violent protest

 

 

sometimes has more severe consequences to the public than violent actions (Bedau, 1991: 161).

More poignantly than Schochet, Peter Singer states that “violence or interference tends to

obscure the fact that what is being done is a form of address” (Bedau, 1991: 124). When violence

enters the sphere of debate, it does become difficult to distinguish if a political commentary is

continuing or if it has transformed into a brawl. However, this doesn’t mean that all violent

action is devoid of any symbolism, substance, or expression. Violent action, though more

effective in getting attention quickly, is just a more difficult method of forming a discourse from

the rulers to the ruled. To ensure the dignity of the oppressor and the oppressed, alike, and to

keep the lines of communication more open, it was important to Gandhi that those participating

in disobedience strive for the least violent course of action possible.

Contrarily, the concept of human dignity was also a driving force for Frantz Fanon’s

argument in favor violence. He objected that the use of violence was not only humanizing for the

natives of Algeria, but it also strengthened their community ties, making their dissident actions

more cohesive and organized. The most attractive aspect of Fanon’s philosophy is its sheer

singularity. Fanon made it clear from the beginning of his book that his aim was to discuss the

Algerian conflict. Unlike Gandhi and King, Fanon does not create an extensive, overarching

principle for every instance of civil disobedience everywhere. Instead he focuses on one case,

and in this case he sees an outlet for violence that results in more than just destruction. He says

both that “violence unifies the people” and that “violence is a cleansing force” (Fanon, 1961:

94). For the natives who were denied any political voice and even seen as unruly, immoral

animals to the settlers, the only way to attract the attention of a violent regime was with violent

resistance.

The act seems justifiable in the Hammurabian sense of an eye for an eye, but the

collective action of the Algerian peoples against the French settlers seems more like a revolution

than a protest. Actors of civil disobedience often seek to change a particularly unjust law in what

Rawls refers to as a “nearly just society” (Bedau, 1991: 104). The native peoples were not

participants in the political society, as they were given no means to participate. Even in the civil

rights movement of King’s day, the black population had the right to vote, though their efforts to

exercise that right were often thwarted by extremist thugs. Fanon claims governmental reform is

a tool of the elite class, while revolution is accessible to all. Non-violence is an inconceivable

concept for the native people, who were weaned on violence, and to expect them to conform to

 

 

some Gandhian level of rightness and goodness is kind of absurd. As noted earlier, the method of

necessary self-purification that precedes non-violence is a task in itself for the average person.

Howard Zinn said that an “inevitable tension” exists when transitioning from a violent society to

a non-violent one, which makes the means of carrying out this transition hard to pin down as

either strictly violent or non-violent (Zinn, 1968: 39-40). However, a full-scale rebellion from

colonial rule hardly meets the qualifications of civil disobedience. It is apolitical in nature

because it seeks to wholly transform the political structure, instead of operating within its

confines. Therefore, the Algerian peoples’ fight for freedom is not a useful example of violent

protest.

However, Fanon’s principles are useful in establishing the groundwork for a basic

justification of violent protest, something many philosophers rarely attempt to tackle. Assuming

that the society is nearly just or an inclusive participatory democracy, it might be hard to justify

the statements Fanon made regarding a complete degradation of day-to-day life into one of

imposed violence (Fanon, 1961: 88). However, he makes a valid point for disobedience, not just

revolution, when he says, “violence represents the absolute line of action” (Fanon, 1961: 85).

Violent action is one that simply cannot be ignored or overlooked. Howard Zinn makes the point

that if the degree of importance of a rebellion in Korea or Algeria could justify violence, then in

an already democratic society, like the United States “some issues might be important enough to

justify some degree of violence” (Zinn, 1968: 45).

Unfortunately, the definition of violence is never made clear in any text. To what degree

trying to right an unjust law can justify violent action is uncertain because of the relatively

unexplored varying degrees of violence (Zinn, 1968: 46). As mentioned earlier, there is a

distinction between violence to people versus violence to property. While both constitute actual

damage, one is obviously more severe than the other, and therefore, more difficult to justify.

Then there is the separation of coercive violent tactics and persuasive violent tactics. Coercive

violence involves a forced compliance, by either mentally or physically abusive means to an

individual. Persuasive violence is more of an obstruction or damage made with the intention of

convincing someone (Bedau, 1991: 136). Persuasive violence is more consistent with human

rights in that its actors attempt to convince others of their cause, instead of just forcing them to

believe it. Coercive violence is a tactic that is best left to those wishing to instill a dictatorial

regime.

 

 

This distinction proves that some types of violence are more morally acceptable than

others. Therefore, some violence can be more easily justified in the context of civil disobedience.

It is important, then, to “distinguish between limited violence designed to achieve selective

particular ends” (Bedau, 1991: 141) and all out rioting. Violence can be an effective means to an

end. As shown in the case of certain revolutionary acts, which are arguably more destructive than

violent civil disobedience, violent means do not always meet violent ends, as Gandhi suggested.

However, John Locke issued a sound warning to those who pursue violence, whether they are the

governors or the governed. “For wherever violence is used and injury done… it is still violence

and injury” (Locke, 1980: 16). If someone uses violence to achieve a goal, they should do so

knowing that what is justifiable is not always right. Harm is still incurred through the use of

violence, no matter how important a cause is.

Recently, there has been support for a new form of representative democracy, which has

its roots in political philosophy dating back to the Golden Age of Athens. Deliberative

democracy is a talk-centric theory seen as something purely non-violent. It is deliberation

through communication, with the only real action being a coming together to discuss issues

(Smith, 2004: 353). Though some deliberative democrats see civil disobedience as another “form

of communication” (Humphrey, 2006: 320), it is hard to limit it to that. Civil disobedience is

expression through collective action, not a mere deliberative tactic.

Though deliberative democratic ideals are certainly preferable in their inclusiveness, it

just is not a realistic model for what society is today, especially in countries as large at the

United States. Decisions would never be made if we heard every possible side of every argument

in a polity consisting of over 300,000 people. Perhaps in a world more capable of extensive

communication it would be possible to operate under deliberation, but the fact remains that

people’s voices continue to go unheard and unheeded in policy making today. If voting, or the

simple aggregation of sometimes uninformed opinions, is necessary to make decisions in a

timely manner in a large democracy, then civil disobedience will always be necessary to fill the

void of inclusiveness and intensity of decision that the current representative democracy leaves

behind.

When it comes to civil disobedience, assuming that it is a necessary means in modern

democratic societies for minority dissention to be brought to light, non-violence is the preferred

method for many philosopher and participants due to its ability to cause the least harm while still

 

 

being effective. Non-violence can hypothetically ensure dignity for all parties involved, while

still getting the message of collective grievances out in the open. This will more likely be met

with peace and perhaps even understanding than the demands for justice ushered forth from the

barrel of a gun, though violent means do not always meet why violent ends. When non-violence

is held to lofty self-purification standards, as laid down by King in his “Letter from Birmingham

Jail,” it can be a daunting method for common people, and an impossible one for people who

have only ever known violence and force.

Therefore, one should not go as far as Gandhi in completely condemning violence since

some instances can justify violent civil disobedience. For example, Arendt sees violence as being

able to achieve short-term goals effectively by quickly attracting public attention to a cause

(Arendt, 1969: 177). However, in the long-term it is more of a revolutionary tool, or even the

beginning or a civil war. Another problem that faces those who choose violent tactics is the

difficulty in gaining public support. The common person will most likely find it hard to be

sympathetic to those participating in disobedience for a just cause when their property is being

damaged or they fear bodily harm. Furthermore, the more violent acts of disobedience towards

individuals become, either mentally or physically, the less likely the individuals will be actually

persuaded towards a cause. Granted, those under attack might be coerced, but never sincerely

convinced of injustice. Coercive tactics are not the right way to bring about justice because

injustice to others responded with by more injustice to others can rarely beget justice for those

originally affected by the injustice. While violence is sometimes justifiable, it should be used

sparingly and with extreme discretion. Even under the most controlled circumstances, violent

acts can snowball into riots or be met with violence from other citizens or law enforcement. It is

important to remember that which is justifiable is not always the right course of action. Just as

conscientious objection is a justifiable act, its inability to cause change or even be done

collectively hardly makes it the best option for those seeking to reverse the effects of an unjust

law.

The best way to attack the foreboding question of the justifiability of violence, non-

violence, or inaction is to just take each case on its own. Every instance of civil disobedience is

so unique in circumstances that each demands a critical analysis that is independent of others.

Though one can not completely ignore the historical relevance of other acts of civil

disobedience, creating broad theories to say what is best for everyone everywhere at every point

 

 

in history is basically like creating laws that can not be changed and no one is held accountable

for. What works in a particular situation will not necessarily work elsewhere. Like laws in a

constitutional democracy, theories on the justifiability of civil disobedience have to be able to

change to fit new circumstances in order to continue to be relevant. The collective moral

conception of justice and rightness changes with time. When Thomas Hobbes wrote Leviathan,

the very basis of sovereignty hinged on a completely law-abiding and unquestioning public.

Therefore, it was wrong to question authority because it could disrupt society as a whole.

However, modern democratic society is built on the belief that the people should be informed

and included and those in positions of power should be held accountable for their decisions. This

massive change of ideals happened over the course of about 300 years. It might be possible that

violence will be a more accepted means of dissention in another 300 years, or society might

develop more deliberative forms of decision making so that civil disobedience is no longer a

necessity to make sure minority voices are not drowned out by a majority vote.

 

 

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