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 selfimprovement, 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, nonviolence, 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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