Rise up!

Nonviolent protest holds surprising power, often succeeding where violent resistance falters.

Decades of research, including some of the most recent by Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephans, published in their landmark study Why Civil Resistance Works, show that campaigns using nonviolent methods are nearly twice as successful as those relying on violence.

Here are the stats:

Violent revolutions succeed about 26% of the time, while nonviolent campaigns achieve their goals roughly 53% of the time.

What's more, when at least 3.5% of a population actively participates in a nonviolent movement, success becomes remarkably likely.

PHILADELPHIA, UNITED STATES - JUNE 14: Demonstrators carrying banners, gather for the "No Kings" protest in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Protests were held nationwide in cities and small towns. Total attendance estimates ranged between 5 million and 14.5 million. Some became a bit unruly, but the only violence reported was either committed or instigated by right-wing activists.

Let’s explore several significant non-violent political movements so that we may understand how, why, and where nonviolent protest truly shines.

Along the way, voices like Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Aung San Suu Kyi, and modern-day organizers remind us why this strategy runs deeper than slogans—it’s a play for hearts, for transforming structures, and for recognizing our shared humanity.

We will begin with the 20 year, non-violent, Satyagraha in India.

Gandhi conceived satyagraha—which he defined as “the Force which is born of Truth and Love or nonviolence, peace”—is the early 20^th century. It wasn’t the first such movement, but without doubt, it was the largest to date. As the Britannica describes it, it was intended “to designate a determined but nonviolent resistance to evil.”

Satyagraha became the very core of India’s fight against British colonial rule. Nonviolent resistance was a moral stance, a way of living. It was the path to liberty and peace. Satyagrahis—the practitioners of satyagraha—"achieve correct insight into the real nature of an evil situation by observing a nonviolence of the mind, by seeking truth in a spirit of peace and love, and by undergoing a rigorous process of self-scrutiny.”

His campaigns, which included symbolic salt marches, widespread boycotts, and acts of civil disobedience, weren’t about quick, explosive gains. Instead, they were like steady moral currents, relentlessly challenging the basic legitimacy of the colonial power. British authorities, trained and equipped to fight armed rebels, found themselves unexpectedly constrained by the public perception and ethical dilemmas of using violence against peaceful, unarmed crowds.

The Salt March of 1930 is a prime example of this strategy in action. Gandhi, along with a small band of devoted followers, embarked on a 240-mile journey to the sea to defy the British salt monopoly. This simple act of civil disobedience soon swelled into a massive national movement, capturing attention around the globe.

International media widely broadcast images of peaceful Indian civilians being brutalized for simply making salt, framing the British crackdowns as repressive and unjust, which steadily eroded the colonial empire’s moral legitimacy. That dynamic of peaceful, resolute protest undermining the moral authority of the oppressors repeated itself over many years.

Scholars Adam Roberts and Timothy Garton Ash have described this powerful influence, noting in their work Civil Resistance and Power Politics that “satyagraha theory influenced Martin Luther King Jr.… and Nelson Mandela’s struggle against apartheid.”

By shaping global norms and understanding around the effectiveness of nonviolent resistance, India’s long struggle provided a clear and compelling template for future movements. It was a template built on unwavering discipline, immense personal sacrifice, and the strategic leverage of moral principles against brute force. Ghandi and satyagraha became the model for major resistance movements from that point forward.

The U.S. Civil Rights Movement truly took off in the mid-1950s, lasting about a decade. A key figure in making nonviolent action a central strategy was James Lawson. He had studied Mahatma Gandhi's successful campaigns in India and built his own approach based on that work. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. even called Lawson "the leading nonviolence theorist in the world" Lawson's guidance and training were crucial for actions like sit-ins, freedom rides, and large marches, making them incredibly precise and impactful.

Lawson later urged grassroots organizers to push past mere polite negotiation, explaining, “If we wanted to succeed… we would have to engage in nonviolent disruption at a scale big enough to force a moral and economic crisis.”

The 1963 March on Washington and the 1965 Selma to Montgomery marches didn’t simply present a list of demands; they laid bare America’s own deep-seated contradictions for the entire world to see. The televised images of peaceful protesters being brutally beaten on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma created an undeniable political urgency across the nation.

The powerful public outcry directly led to the passage of the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965—pivotal legislation born, in part, from a collective national shame and a renewed moral imperative.

on these campaigns consistently found that they often met the criteria for their "3.5% rule" for “success, demonstrating high participation, unwavering nonviolent discipline, clear demands, and a powerful moral framework.” They also “highlight the effectiveness of a diversity of tactics within these nonviolent movements.”

This meant strategically combining different forms of action, such as staging sit-ins in segregated diners, organizing widespread voter registration drives, and pursuing critical legal challenges through the courts—all operating under a unified nonviolent banner. This multifaceted approach allowed the movement to apply pressure from many different angles, making it incredibly difficult for the racist system to respond effectively.

In 1980, when Lech Wałęsa and Anna Walentynowicz initiated a shipyard strike in Gdańsk, it ignited a chain reaction across Poland. Millions of people joined in peaceful protests, organized strikes, and formed underground networks across the country. Solidarity rapidly grew, becoming the first truly independent labor union in communist Europe. It managed to rally an estimated 12–14 million people during a single-day “warning strike” in March 1981, a remarkable feat against a regime that was, at its core, backed by the formidable power of Soviet tanks.

Crucially, the Solidarity movement strictly avoided violent tactics throughout its struggle. As the International Center on Nonviolent Conflict points out, Solidarity’s "high degree of nonviolent discipline" and its philosophy of self-restraint were absolutely key in securing a peaceful transition of power by 1989.

Wałęsa later reflected on the fundamental principle guiding their actions: “The thing that lies at the foundation of positive change… is service to a fellow human being.” This unwavering focus on moral service significantly bolstered their international reputation and helped to exert immense pressure on both Moscow and the Polish government in Warsaw.

By 1989, Poland had successfully negotiated for free elections, an event that directly kickstarted the broader collapse of communism across Eastern Europe—and it all happened without a single bullet being fired.

Nonviolent protests in South Africa, beginning in the 1950s, such as the powerful 1976 Soweto youth uprising and the massive 1989 Cape Town march, slowly but surely began to shift public opinion and government policy.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, a towering moral figure, famously described nonviolent resistance as "a powerful weapon of the weak," a tool that profoundly helped to erode apartheid’s moral foundation and expose its deep injustices to the world.

Nelson Mandela himself, though later associated with armed resistance, initially advocated strongly for nonviolent methods in the early days of the struggle. He openly acknowledged that peaceful demands from the Black majority were routinely met with brutal force by the apartheid regime, noting that “sometimes even the mildest form of nonviolent resistance was met with years of imprisonment.”

Despite the African National Congress (ANC) eventually turning to armed struggle in the face of escalating repression, Mandela returned to dialogue and negotiation in the early 1990s. His leadership skillfully guided the nation through a complex transition from apartheid to democracy without a widespread explosion of violence.

The pivotal shift from protest to policy in South Africa came through a powerful combination of global economic sanctions and unrelenting internal civil pressure. By 1994, the apartheid system had officially ended, and Mandela—whose long struggle had been deeply influenced by nonviolent strategy in his formative years—became the country's first Black president. His ultimate commitment to peace and reconciliation demonstrated that violence is not the only, or even the most effective, path to liberation in seemingly intractable regimes.

In Czechoslovakia, the late-1989 Velvet Revolution proved just how swiftly and peacefully nonviolent defiance could topple an entrenched communist power. Inspired by the success of Poland’s Solidarity movement and deeply galvanized by the brutal suppression and self-immolation of student Jan Palach in 1969, Czech university students began organizing peaceful protests. People soon filled Prague’s iconic Wenceslas Square, which you might remember as the location of the iconic John Lennon Wall, carrying candles and flowers, and singing patriotic songs. The prevailing mood was not one of violent revolution; instead, it was a collective expression of mourning for past injustices and a quiet, resolute resistance to the existing regime.

Popular Czech singer Marta Kubišová later vividly captured the essence of the movement, stating, “It was our power of words and concerts that made tanks retreat.”

That powerful imagery—of peaceful citizens facing down the specter of military force—did far more damage to the communist government’s authority than any gun could. Communist authorities, increasingly fearful of widespread global condemnation and facing a growing domestic revolt, ultimately chose not to meet the protesters with violent force.

Within a mere ten days, President Gustáv Husák resigned, and power peacefully passed to dissident leaders. No tanks ever rolled into the streets. The revolution's "velvet touch" was undeniably its profound moral force and the undeniable power of public visibility, rather than violence.

In East Germany, particularly in the city of Leipzig, the weekly Monday demonstrations quickly escalated from just a few hundred brave churchgoers to over 70,000 people in a matter of weeks. Unlike previous, bloodier attempts at protest in earlier years, these demonstrators came armed only with handmade banners and flickering candles.

They boldly demanded fundamental freedoms: the right to free travel, a free press, and genuinely free elections. The regime, caught in an impossible bind between using brutal force and facing severe international backlash, visibly faltered under the sustained, peaceful pressure.

Chancellor Helmut Kohl of West Germany later described the East German protesters as “people whose unlimited moral strength spoke louder than any gun.”

That remarkable restraint on the part of the protesters, combined with their overwhelming numbers, produced an irreversible political shift that year. By November 9, the Berlin Wall—once an impenetrable symbol of division and oppression—was breached by jubilant crowds. This incredibly powerful moment affirmed a crucial truth: that courage and conscience can indeed override violence without necessitating mass casualties.

In 2014, Hong Kong experienced a significant wave of peaceful resistance known as the Umbrella Movement. Thousands of pro-democracy supporters occupied central districts for weeks, protesting against Beijing’s imposed restrictions on electoral freedom. Students, teachers, and office workers from all walks of life participated—many wore masks and shielded themselves with umbrellas against tear gas, but they were consistently unarmed.

Mainland Chinese government eventually responded with crackdowns and stalled reforms, yet the movement’s unwavering peaceful discipline garnered widespread global solidarity and attention. It undeniably reshaped Hong Kong’s civic identity and laid the groundwork for even larger protests in the years that followed.

The subtle yet profound power of the movement was clear: occupy a public space, demand dignity and fundamental rights, and hold your ground—all without resorting to violence.

In 2018, a group of U.S. lawmakers nominated the Umbrella Movement leadership for a Nobel Peace Prize. Benedict Rogers, co-founder and chair of Hong Kong Watch said, "This is an excellent, very timely and very welcome initiative. The Senators and Congressmen who have proposed this nomination are absolutely right in describing the Umbrella Movement as a whole, and its leaders, as among the most inspiring and courageous peaceful movements for democracy and human rights in recent times, certainly fitting the criteria of the Nobel Peace Prize and in keeping with the values of previous Laureates.”

In Tunisia, the initial spark for revolution was a tragically quiet act: the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi, a young street vendor protesting official corruption and humiliation. From his solitary act of despair, spontaneous, nonviolent street demonstrations rapidly surged across the entire country. There were no militant campaigns, no armed insurrections. Just ordinary people, united in their demands for a basic public justice system and an end to the long-standing authoritarian rule of President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali.

Erica Chenoweth, a renowned scholar of resistance, has highlighted Tunisia’s trajectory, calling it “the Arab Spring’s only success story.” She emphasizes that Tunisia's revolution followed a predominantly nonviolent path. The sustained protests ultimately persuaded the deeply entrenched regime to stand down, culminating in the holding of democratic elections within a matter of months. This stands as a powerful testament to how nonviolent civil disobedience can achieve significant political change with minimal bloodshed.

These diverse movements, despite their unique historical, cultural, and political contexts, share several common threads that help explain the surprising and often underestimated power of nonviolent action.

Nonviolent protest often operates by exposing the inherent violence of the power structure rather than by deploying violence itself. When police or military forces use brutality against unarmed citizens who are simply demonstrating peacefully, the moral balance shifts dramatically. Public opinion, both domestic and international, tends to sway overwhelmingly toward the protesters.

Figures like Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and Lech Wałęsa understood this concept: moral authority acts as a powerful magnet, attracting both internal and external support, which, in turn, severely constrains the state’s ability to use brutal force without facing severe repercussions and widespread condemnation. This moral high ground often leads to defections within the regime's own ranks, from police forces hesitant to attack their own people, to civil servants refusing to carry out oppressive orders.

Chenoweth and Stephan’s research provides a quantitative argument: nonviolent campaigns are significantly more likely to succeed when at least 3.5% of a population actively participates. This threshold, though seemingly small, represents a critical mass that makes a movement incredibly difficult for any regime to ignore or suppress.

While engaging in nonviolent action can still carry substantial risks for individuals, the very nature of nonviolence inherently broadens the gates for participation. It allows a much wider range of people—from students and homemakers to professionals, religious leaders, and even civil servants—to join the movement. This inclusivity dramatically increases a movement's overall legitimacy and its operational scale, making it much harder for the state to isolate or demonize the resistance.

The broad demographic participation also means the regime faces internal divisions and potential loyalty shifts among its own security forces or administrative apparatus.

Effective nonviolent strategies focus on creating functional disruption rather than widespread physical destruction. This includes a wide array of tactics such as economic boycotts, strategic sit-ins, and large-scale strikes. These methods effectively inhibit the state's normal operations and economic functioning without actively destroying society’s foundational infrastructure.

This delicate balance allows momentum for change to build steadily—without tipping into the kind of chaotic violence that authoritarian regimes are typically well-equipped to brutally suppress. By avoiding destruction, movements also preserve the societal fabric necessary for a stable transition once their objectives are achieved.

Successful nonviolent movements rarely rely on a single tactic. Instead, they often cleverly combine direct protests with a variety of other strategic approaches, including legal challenges, sophisticated media work, and shrewd negotiation.

Gandhi’s strategic dialogues with British officers, Martin Luther King Jr.’s relentless pursuit of legal suits to dismantle segregation, and Poland’s Round Table Talks—where Solidarity leaders negotiated directly with the communist government—all illustrate this adaptability. These diverse tactics contributed to an evolving and multifaceted pressure system that proved far more effective and resilient than relying on sheer force alone. This adaptability allows movements to respond to changing political landscapes and exploit new opportunities.

In stark contrast, violent resistance movements frequently fracture along existing fault lines—whether ethnic, social, or ideological. When a movement takes up arms, authoritarian regimes are often emboldened to retaliate with even greater ferocity, given that they typically possess a monopoly on armed force. Military coups, even if successful in overthrowing a dictator, often lead only to the installation of new dictatorships rather than genuine democratic transitions.

International sympathy for a cause also tends to drift or dissipate, especially when violence begets more violence, making external support harder to secure. Ultimately, violent resistance is generally easier for a state to suppress and much harder for a movement to sustain over the long term. Nonviolence, by its very nature, scales upward by attracting broader participation; violence, on the other hand, often self-limits itself by alienating potential allies and inviting overwhelming state repression.

Nonviolent struggles—from Gandhi’s iconic Salt March, to the resilient Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong, to the recent No Kings protests in the U.S.—powerfully demonstrate that true power doesn't reside solely in firepower, but rather in the unwavering strength of human dignity and collective conscience. When protesters bravely risk arrest, rather than death, they compel a moral judgment from silent bystanders and the global community.

Their inspiring stories reveal a foundational and enduring truth: that history is often shifted not under the barrels of guns, but under the banners of conscience and the persistent courage of ordinary people demanding justice.

We're facing a moment right now, a crisis that cuts to the very heart of who we are as a nation. It feels heavy, perhaps as heavy as challenges any country has ever known. But here’s the truth: this doesn't have to be our end. It doesn't have to lead us down a path to civil war. Not if we choose a different way.

We have to lay down our stones and reach for our signs instead. We have to walk away from the desire to break things and embrace the power of boycotts. We've been slow to truly see where things are headed, to grasp the depth of this divide. But now, our eyes are open. And if we listen to the wisdom of people like James Lawson, we can win this.

He told us, "If we wanted to succeed… we would have to engage in nonviolent disruption at a scale big enough to force a moral and economic crisis." That means every time we march, every time we rally, we need to show up in numbers so vast they can't be ignored. We need a sustained turnout, at least 3.5% of our population, making our voices heard, not with violence, but with an undeniable, peaceful force that demands change.

This is our chance to turn the tide. We cannot waste it.