the current state of resistance, and what to do about it

Soon after the November election, I predicted that grassroots resistance would rise in response to Donald Trump.

Some activity is underway. There was, for example, a march in Boston over the weekend. Dana Fisher offers valuable statistics about the march in Washington. Still, I perceive less activity than I had honestly expected by this point.

I think some reasons are psychological. Many people who oppose Trump are tired and discouraged. Eight years ago, many retained a faith in the basic democratic process because Trump had lost the popular vote and had lost all the age groups under 45. It was easy to envision that future elections would go better. The courts, big media platforms, and the press were are at least making noises about defending democratic institutions.

In 2025, Trump’s popular-vote majority, his gains among some younger groups and some people of color, and his reelection after the events of 2016-21 are demoralizing and may suggest that the American people are to blame for the situation. Even if this blame is fair, it discourages democratic solutions. Meanwhile, media moguls are bending the knee, and the Supreme Court has a pro-Trump majority. And perhaps some people who would otherwise resist a 78-year-old president in his second term are counting on time to do their work.

Such psychological challenges can be addressed. If morale is low, maybe it’s time for planning and recruitment. If a march or a public meeting would draw small numbers, maybe it’s time for one-to-one meetings. We can develop messages for various types of people that renew their energy in the face of discouragement and alienation.

But there is a deeper problem. Not enough people have roles and resources that allow them to address psychological barriers to participation.

Imagine an organization that draws enough money from its own members that it can afford to hire at least one part-time organizer, and it elects a leadership team of volunteers. Its organizer and its leaders can–right now–combat resignation and spur action in their specific context. I’m sure that some of this is happening.

On the other hand, let’s say there are many people in a given community who have expressed abhorrence for Trump and are willing to give time or money–but they have no relevant organization. Then, even if some of them discuss ways to energize people, it’s not likely that anyone will get working on it. This is the situation in most places.

That is why, for me, it’s so important to build power for resisting authoritarianism and provide the tools people need to preserve and strengthen democracy.

There is a debate about the ideology and political objectives of the first Trump resistance, with some arguing that it provoked a backlash because it was too radical. (See Adam Gurri’s rebuttal to these views.) Without going into that debate, I would note that the ideology of a movement is only one variable–and it tends to change over time. Three other variables are its methods, structures, and composition. We need a large and diverse movement that is self-sustaining and autonomous (not dependent on grants or celebrities) and that allows its participants to discuss, debate, and develop while taking the actions that are appropriate for the moment.

We do have many elements of this movement, but we must expand and strengthen it greatly.

See also: What our nation needs is a broad-based, pro-democracy civic movement

Paul Shambroom, "Maurice, Louisiana (Population 642) Village Council, May 15, 2002."© 2002 Paul Shambroom.

the dignity of democracy

My favorite object in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts’ exhibition “Power of the People: Art and Democracy” is Paul Shambroom’s Maurice, Louisiana (Population 642) Village Council, May 15, 2002 (shown above).

This large exhibition presents works from ancient Athens to contemporary America, including some famous and powerful objects. In this context, Shambroom dignifies democracy as the rule of regular people. (His photograph is also the favorite of Boston Globe critic Mark Feeney.)

Shambroom’s village councilors are middle-aged Americans in mostly casual clothes, including polo shirts for the two men. They all seem to be listening to the speaker at the right–three of them watching her face, one staring attentively into the distance.

The flags and seal behind them convey authority. These people represent the state, which ultimately wields the power of life and death. (Compare the empty juror chairs in Jim Dow’s eloquent photo, “Grady County Courthouse, Jury Box, Cairo, Georgia, 1976,” also in the exhibition.) But the councilors are not evidently bossing anyone around. They are probably trying to decide whether a proposed building conforms to the city plan.

The councilors occupy a dais that sets them apart from any constituents who might attend, whether to petition them or to oversee their work. The woman at the center, presumably the council chair, is raised higher, and she seems to be listening with mild amusement.

The large scale of the photograph (33 x 66 in) makes it monumental, in the tradition of public history painting. In fact, the exhibition invites a comparison to “The Magnanimity of Lycurgus” (1791), a large and histrionic oil painting by Jean-Jacques François Le Barbier, which was made for the Paris Salon at the height of the Revolution. Shambroom’s photo suggests that representative Americans deserve the same kind of recognition as the Lawgiver of Sparta.

Shamboom has made many such images. Compare Wadley, Georgia (population 2,468), City Council, August 13, 2001, which is in the Whitney.

The word “populism” is being used today mainly to criticize political ideologies that posit that the true people of any given country form a homogeneous and intolerant bloc. The people have enemies–domestic and foreign–and can be led by a single, charismatic figure. For me, Shambroom’s city council images are quiet statements of a different form of populism. Here, the people are diverse and deliberative, and they merit the right to do the unglamorous and endless work of self-government.

20th-century political philosophy syllabus

I will be teaching 20th-century political philosophy as a new course this spring. One could choose many different readings for such a course. My list reflects my own interests, to some extent, plus some advocacy by the prospective students. Just as an example, Tufts’ political theory students tend to study Nietzsche intensively, so I have omitted Nietzsche from the “background” part of this syllabus.

Jan. 16: Introduction to the course (we’ll look together at “W.H. Auden’s September 1, 1939”)

Part I: Background

(A review of five major schools of thought that were already well developed before 1914 and that most subsequent authors knew and addressed.)

Jan. 21: Liberalism

  • John Stuart Mill, On Liberty (1859), chapters 1 and 2

Jan. 23: Liberalism

  • Mill (1859), chapters 3-5

Jan. 28: Marxism

Jan. 30: Psychoanalysis

  • A dream from Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams (1900). [It is the dream about Count Thun, discussed by Carl Schorske, and I provide a version with my own explanatory notes.]
  • Sigmund Freud, Civilization and its Discontents (1930), chapters 3, 7 and 8. (The rest is recommended but not required.)

Feb. 4: Modernity

  • Max Weber, Economy and Society. Ed. Guenther Roth and Claus Wittic. New York: Bedminster Press, 1922/1968, excerpts from around pp. 223 and pp. 956ff.
  • Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Sprit of Capitalism, trans. by Talcott Parsons (1930), pp. 13-38, 102-125
  • [Not required, but an interesting take: Charles Taylor, “Two Theories of Modernity (2001)]

Feb 6: Faith and/or nation

PART II: Responses

Feb. 11: Friedrich Hayek 

  • The Constitution of Liberty, chapter 1, pp. 11-21, chapter  4, pp. 54-71and postscript, “Why I am not a conservative”
  • Chapter 2, Creative Powers of a Free Civilization, 18 pages
  • “Errors of Constructivism,” from The Market and Other Orders, 19 pages 
  • “Engineers and Planners,” from Studies on the Abuse and Decline of Reason, 13 pages

Feb. 13: Isaiah Berlin

  • “Two Concepts of Liberty”

Feb. 18: Marxism after Marx

Feb. 25: Fascism

  • Benito Mussolini (1883-1945): The Doctrine of Fascism (1932)
  • Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, pp. 19-22, 25-52, 53-58, 78-79

Feb. 27: Pragmatism I: John Dewey

March. 4:  Pragmatism II: other authors

  • Sidney Hook, “The Democratic Way of Life” 
  • Cornel West, Keeping Faith: Philosophy and Race in America (1994), Chapter 7: Pragmatism and the Sense of the Tragic

March 6: W.E.B. DuBois

  • Black Reconstruction in America (1935), pp. 55-83, 182-202, 210-219, 711-731

March 11: The Frankfurt School

March 25: Hannah Arendt

  • Excerpts from On Revolution  (1963)

March 27: Hannah Arendt

  • The Human Condition, chapters II and V

March April 1: Simone de Beauvoir

  • The Second Sex, trans. by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevalier (1949/2011), pp. 23-39, 83-5, 330-360, 848-863

April 3: Frantz Fanon

  • The Wretched of the Earth, trans. by Richard Philcox (1961/2004), the preface by J.-P. Sartre and Parts I-IV and the Conclusion.

April 8: Michel Foucault

  • Excerpts from History of Sexuality and/or Discipline and Punish [To be selected]

April 10: late Foucault

  • “What Our Present Is” (1981), from The Politics of Truth 
  • “What Is Critique?” in James Schmidt, From What Is Enlightenment?
  • Course Descriptions from the Collège de France 
  • “The Ethics of the Concern of the Self as a Practice of Freedom”
  • “Technologies of the Self (pp. 145-169) in The Essential Foucault
  • “The Subject and Power” (pp. 126-144 in The Essential Foucault
  • “Truth and Power” (1976) in The Essential Foucault   pp. 300-18

April 15: Jürgen Habermas

  • “The Public Sphere” 
  • “Legitimation Crisis”

April 17:  Habermas

  • Between Facts and Norms, pp. 17-23  and 38-41 and pp. 359-379 

April 22: Left open to pursue gaps we have identified (or else texts from the Habermas-Foucault debate]

April 24: Concluding discussion

Cuttings: Ninety-Nine Essays About Happiness

Cuttings is a book in progress that consists of 99 essays about the inner life: about suffering, happiness, compassion, and related themes. I first posted each of the essays on this blog, which is 22 years old today and has accumulated more than 2,400 posts. I’ve selected the contents of Cuttings carefully from this archive, revised most of the essays substantially, and arranged them so that there is a small and meaningful step between each one. In the last three years, I have written some new posts to fill gaps that I perceive in the overall structure. I believe that the architecture is now pretty solid.

Michel de Montaigne is the hero; I seek to emulate his skeptical, curious, humane mind. Like Montaigne, I talk about books, but my library is different from his. Cuttings includes short essays about Montaigne himself, early Buddhist texts, Greek philosophers, Keats and Blake, Hopkins and Stevens, phenomenologists from Husserl to Merleau-Ponty, Arendt and Benjamin, and Hilary Mantel and Ann Carson, among others.

I am releasing the third edition today–a substantial revision from last year, but not yet the final one. You can find the book here as a Google doc. I have also posted it as an .epub file, which will open directly in many e-readers. Alternatively, you could download the .epub to a computer or phone and then use this Amazon page to send it with one click to your own Kindle.

As always, comments are welcome and really the best reward for me.

on defining movements and categorizing people: the case of 68ers

In 1968: Radical Protest and its Enemies (HarperCollins, 2018), Richard Vinen describes the ideals and mores of people he calls “68ers.” (He discusses the USA, France, Germany, and Britain and acknowledges that he omits Mexico, Czechoslovakia, and other parts of the world where the events of 1968 were probably more consequential.) For him, the 68ers include Black Panthers in Oakland, Maoist professors in Parisian grandes écoles, striking French industrial workers in shrinking factories, Berlin squatters, and more.

How should we define such a meaningful but heterogeneous category? A similar challenge may emerge when we try to define any religious or aesthetic movement or historical period. This is not only a scholarly but also a practical issue, because words like “68er”–or “expressionist,” or “fundamentalist”–can be used to motivate or to criticize. We should be able to assess whether such words apply.

One option is to apply a general scheme. For instance, 68ers were on the left. That statement invokes the ideological spectrum that originated in the French Revolution. But 68ers often differentiated themselves from the Old Left, and both sides in that debate claimed to be further left than the other.

One could define the spectrum independently and then use the definition to settle the question of how far left the 68ers stood–but surely they did not agree with each other. Nor would they all endorse anyone else’s definition of the ideological spectrum. They devoted considerable attention to debating issues (with their opponents and among themselves) such as race, sexuality, violence, Israel, and voting. Where specific views of these matters fall on the left-right spectrum seems hard to establish without taking a substantive political position.

Another option is to use an exogenous characteristic that is directly observable to define the category. For example, surely 68ers were college students during the year 1968–hence, early Baby Boomers. But most college students were not 68ers (by any definition of that term), and some classic 68ers were considerably older or had never gone to college. Even the founders of Students for a Democratic Society were as old as 32 (Vinen, p. 30), and many important 68ers were industrial workers.

A third option is to use concrete behavior to define the category. Maybe 68ers are those who participated in mass protests during the year 1968. But the largest protest in Paris was in support of de Gaulle and the regime. Some classic 68ers never literally protested. Probably few thought that the act of protesting defined their movement. And “1968” was not constrained by the calendar year. Vinen thinks that most of Britain’s ’68 took place during the 1970s. The “hard hat riot”–in favor of the Vietnam War — took place a bit late (May 1970) but is still part of Vinen’s narrative.

A common approach in the social sciences would be to treat “68er” as a latent construct that can be detected statistically. Imagine a survey with numerous items: “Do you have a poster of Che on your wall?” “Would you abolish prisons?” “Do you live in a commune?” “Do you like the main characters in Bonnie and Clyde?” After many putative 68ers had completed the survey, researchers would use techniques like factor-analysis to detect patterns. The data might show that an individual’s aggregate score on a small set of the questions defines the category of interest. Then we would have a reliable “68er scale.”

I think that kind of method is helpful, but it cannot be presented as innocent of concepts. We might ask about communes and Che Guevara because we already have a loose mental model of a 68er. We wouldn’t ask people their favorite flavors of ice cream. If we did, and the answer happened to correlate with the whole scale, we would treat that result that as a curiosity, not part of the definition of a 68er. But, if we asked about food and found out that 68ers ate lentils, that would be meaningful. Evidently, we must already know something about what a 68er is as we draft the survey. What is already in our minds?

My own view would build on Wittgenstein’s notion of a family resemblance. In Philosophical Investigations (67), he writes, “the various resemblances between members of a family: build, features, colour of eyes, gait, temperament, etc. etc. overlap and cris-cross in the same way.” He’s arguing that many useful words point to groups of objects that need not all share any single feature but that tend to share features from a list, much as a surname can point to a cluster of people who tend to display some of the same physical characteristics. (“Lots of the Joneses have curly red hair.”) Statistical procedures like cluster analysis can point to these resemblances.

But we know why physical features recur in families: DNA. Why would certain musical choices, political opinions, recreational drugs, hairstyles, and career choices cluster to form the group that we identify as 68ers? Is there an underlying cause?

I think of it this way: Each person holds many beliefs and values. Ideas come and go, and individuals hold them with various degrees of confidence. But ideas are not independent of each other. People think one thing and conclude something else as a result, thus linking two of their beliefs with a reason. For example, they might start by liking Joan Baez and come to oppose the Vietnam War, or vice versa. But there are many ways to put ideas together, and few do it in just the same way. You could hold a strongly anti-authoritarian premise that takes you to anarchism or to capitalism. You could begin by opposing the Vietnam War and find yourself against capitalism or against the state. (I’ve known some Boomer libertarians for whom Vietnam was the formative experience.)

Thus a group like the 68ers (and many others) consists of a cluster of people with a family resemblance, but the reasons that connect their individual beliefs and values together tend to recur, and they recur for discernible reasons. In that sense, a satisfactory account of the group is a list of many of their common specific beliefs and values plus a discussion of the ways that they tend to fit together. The resulting map will not describe everyone but it will capture some of the common patterns and explain on what basis members of the group disagree with each other.

See also: Levine, P. (2024). People are not Points in Space: Network Models of Beliefs and Discussions. Critical Review, 1–27 (2024). https://doi.org/10.1080/08913811.2024.2344994