We are no longer free. But we can win our freedom back

The Guardian

14 hours ago

Most of us are no longer free.
People are aware of this condition to varying degrees. Some, nostalgic for the world that was, reject 'unfreedom' as an exaggerated description of our situation. Others, seeing reality clearly, nevertheless hide from the unnerving implications.
Some people, a minority, experience the changes that have come to America in 2025 as liberation. They are free to say and do what they want with impunity and without shame. On the other side of the spectrum, many who are not free now also were not before, and they suffered no illusion that they were. Now, they might raise an eyebrow to the rest of us, asking if we now see what this country has long been for some people, much of the time.
But for most in this country, unfreedom is a novel experience. What makes this condition confounding is that our unfreedom doesn't yet look like it does in Russia or China – it is still partial. Most in this country can still enjoy a dinner out with friends, loudly deploring the current state of affairs. For most, authoritarianism has not snuffed out the pleasures, private or communal, of a spring morning in the park. In fact, most of us can still read about horrors while lying on the grass, soaking up the sun.
The newly unfree live with cognitive dissonance. You hear of people like doctoral student Rümeysa Öztürk and labor leader David Huerta innocently walking down the street or protesting outside an immigration detention center, or even presiding in their courtroom – being arrested, detained or abducted. Institutions founded on principles of free expression or the rule of law have quickly abandoned them to avoid financial losses. People hesitate to travel abroad for fear of what will happen when they try to return to the country they've called home. And now, we have 2,000 national guard troops and 700 marines sent to a city to repress protest against the wishes of the governor and mayor. After Los Angeles, more Americans are conscious of our growing unfreedom.
When – if – you wake up to our shared condition of unfreedom, you face an existential choice. Do you act on what you know to be true, or do you hide? Too many corporate titans, university presidents and heads of major law firms are behaving as though they are powerless. Members of Congress admit that they are afraid to speak up. Judges talk openly about the threats they face to their safety.
Those leading powerful institutions still have leverage. They still have power. We must call on them to unite and exercise it. Silence and hiding will offer no lasting reprieve.
But regular people, everyday people, face a different challenge. In order to act, they must first discover their power – and learn how to use it.
What should using that power look like? A dilemma for those awake to our growing unfreedom is that the tools we know how to use to change things no longer seem to work. Protests are crucial in raising awareness, but often don't compel those in power to change course. Representatives are less responsive to our advocacy. The rules have changed. Reason, evidence and expertise don't carry the day. Norms we once took for granted are gone.
There are ways we can oppose authoritarianism, using techniques that haven't been used at a scale for decades. These tools are our inheritance. They have been passed down for centuries, by abolitionist campaigners, labor organizers and anti-colonial leaders. Gandhi famously revived them in the early 20th century, inspiring many leaders in the US civil rights movement. The Black freedom struggle, this country's leading democracy movement, has in turn inspired nearly every peaceful, people-powered movement around the world since. This is the lineage of strategic nonviolence to which we must now return. These are the tools we must rediscover.
Sue. Protest. Vote. Then, rinse and repeat. In recent years, pro-democracy advocates have faithfully followed that formula. These strategies have prevented many abuses. But they did not prevent an authoritarian movement from gaining strength. And they won't be enough to prevent what we now face: the prospect of years of authoritarian rule, or something far worse.
So what is to be done?
Much depends on how quickly civil society can remake itself for this new era. We can learn from previous generations of change-makers in the US, and from contemporaries around the world today, who have won by deploying a booster formula for times such as these. It is simple:
Disrupt. De-legitimize. And draw defectors.
To be clear, the formula of sue, protest and vote remains absolutely necessary – but is not sufficient.
Lawsuits curbed the worst excesses of Trump's first term and have been among the few speed bumps slowing the current administration's much more aggressive rampage against civil liberties and the rule of law. But we are already seeing open defiance of court orders.
When Trump was asked whether he was obligated as president to uphold the constitution in the case of Kilmar Ábrego García, who had been wrongly deported from the US, he replied: 'I don't know.' While Ábrego García is now back on US soil, preventing this particular collision course, other contempt trials continue to play out and legal experts fear many more opportunities for Trump to even more brazenly defy the courts.
History also suggests reasons to avoid placing too much hope in the courts, because they cannot always be counted on to save us. Consider Dred Scott v Sandford in 1857, when the supreme court ruled that Black Americans were second-class citizens; Plessy v Ferguson in 1896, upholding racial segregation; Korematsu v United States in 1944, allowing Japanese citizens to be interned in camps; or Trump v United States just last year, in which the court needlessly expanded the doctrine of presidential immunity. Lawsuits buy us essential time, but by themselves are not a sufficient safeguard of our freedoms.
In fact, history further suggests that the courts move in concert with public opinion – and are often pushed by people who take bold action. The supreme court only affirmed same-sex marriage rights, for instance, after public support had increased following years of organizing and advocacy.
Protests also play a vital role in building the confidence of those opposed to an authoritarian government's policies. They help people see they are not alone. And they help embolden those in power who may be sympathetic to the opposition.
But while protest remains an effective means of focusing pressure and raising awareness, protest alone can't force authoritarian coalitions to change. Authoritarians revel in their power to defy dissidents – and can become violent in doing so, as we have seen in Los Angeles this week. Authoritarians have also learned to disregard many types of dissent. Erica Chenoweth, a leading scholar of protest, found that protest movements have recently become less effective in unseating despots around the world, due in part to authoritarians' growing savvy in repressing them or waiting them out.
Meanwhile, sociologist Zeynep Tufekci and journalist Vincent Bevins have reported that mass protests facilitated by social media lack the power of protests of a previous era because they are not undergirded by organizations that can negotiate and adapt tactics as circumstances change. Mass protest is essential, but it is not a panacea.
Voting is crucial. But rulings on everything from redistricting to campaign finance to voter suppression bills make clear that elements of the federal judiciary are all too happy to disenfranchise voters across the nation. And we cannot wait for communities to make their voices heard at the polls. What happens now will determine whether this country even has free and fair midterm elections.
The situation is dire. But as we look to the other movements that have successfully defeated authoritarianism and achieved democratic breakthroughs, it's useful to maintain perspective. Movements in places like South Africa, Brazil and the Jim Crow south succeeded under conditions far worse than those we face today – when the right to vote and to protest did not exist, when courts were uniformly hostile, when the media and other major institutions were captured. How can it be possible to prevail under such conditions?
Rev James Lawson came into the Los Angeles community center and greeted everyone personally. Some two decades later, I still remember how intently he listened to the two dozen immigrant-rights organizers who had come seeking advice on how we might achieve a federal path to citizenship for undocumented people living in the US. We described a strategy focused on mass mobilization, skillful advocacy with policymakers, and expert communications to frame the problem and solution.
His response was kind but firm. Our strategy wouldn't work, he said. We were playing by the rules of someone else's game. This Black American leader had seen the full truth of this country – the horrors as well as the heroism – and from that experience learned some hard truths. He wanted to share them with this group of mostly first-generation immigrants, many of whom still believed what we read in textbooks about how change happens. If we wanted to succeed, he said, we would have to engage in nonviolent disruption at a scale big enough to force a moral and economic crisis that would bring about change.
We weren't ready or able to take Rev Lawson's advice then. We pursued a strategy that achieved some important gains in policy, but were unsuccessful in our efforts to pass federal immigration reform.
Maybe we are ready to listen to him now.
Rev Lawson knew more about disruption than perhaps any living American. He was, as Dr Martin Luther King Jr called him, the 'leading nonviolence theorist in the world'. In the 1950s and 60s, he trained thousands of civil rights leaders and marchers, including John Lewis, to meet violence with love and dignity. He worked closely with the Little Rock Nine, who led the desegregation of an Arkansas high school, helping them muster the courage to remain composed as they walked into school amid a barrage of violent hate. He prepared the brave participants in Nashville's sit-ins to desegregate lunch counters. He was instrumental in organizing the freedom rides in protest of the defiance of the ruling ordering the desegregation of buses.
I'd first met Rev Lawson over a decade before that meeting, as part of a small training on principles of nonviolence that he held for organizers in Los Angeles. I had studied Gandhi and the ideas he'd developed during the Indian independence struggle. I was part of the Aids movement, and I'd witnessed a lot of death and government-sponsored cruelty. I thought I knew the material, but what Rev Lawson taught me in our first meeting shook me to the core.
I had expected a master class in tactics. How do you plan a sit-in? How do you get press attention? What police tactics can you anticipate? Where do you have lawyers waiting? Instead, Rev Lawson devoted the first few hours of the training inviting us into deep introspection. He opened a dialogue about love, and asked if we loved our opponents. My attitude was well-captured by Tina Turner: 'what's love got to do with it?'
While I had viewed nonviolence as a strategy, Rev Lawson understood nonviolence as a way of life. He believed the principles and techniques he taught couldn't work without this depth of commitment. You couldn't win defectors to your side without taking the moral high ground, and you couldn't convincingly fake love for any length of time.
We spent the next few hours of the training on building discipline. How do you conduct yourself facing unimaginable pressure and violence? I remember him inches from my face, calling me names and threatening me, trying to provoke a reaction. At the end, he assessed our performance. Did we manifest love, even to our opponents? Did we maintain the composure under fire that he demanded? With a glance, he let me know that I had done much better with discipline than with love. I'd been resolutely nonviolent, but was obviously smoldering inside.
Rev Lawson was teaching us the art and science of nonviolent disruption. This is the hidden electric current that has powered the great episodes of American progress. WEB Du Bois explained that it was enslaved people themselves, and not white northerners, who broke the back of the plantation economy and won their own freedom by engaging in a loosely coordinated 'general strike' that fatally damaged the southern cause. In more recent decades, the United Farm Workers' grape boycott of 1965 and strikes by teachers in 2018 and autoworkers in 2024 are iconic examples of nonviolent disruption that delivered results.
Disruption differs from protest in a key sense. Where protests are designed to capture attention, Rev Lawson constantly reminded us that disruption is not always loud and noisy. Sometimes it involves sitting where you're not supposed to, not buying what you usually do, or not showing up for work. The point is that disruption must exact real economic or political costs on authoritarians and their collaborators.
During the early days of the administration, we have already seen such methods yield results. Take the ongoing boycott of Target over its diversity, equity and inclusion policy rollback, which has depressed the chain's foot traffic and stock price, or the widespread disavowal of Tesla, resulting in a worldwide sales crisis for Elon Musk's once-trendy automaker. Or look at the Los Angeles unified school district's refusal to give federal immigration authorities access to the city's schools.
These acts of non-cooperation create friction, and friction slows the consolidation of authoritarianism. Each act of non-cooperation, of disruption, inspires others to use the power they have to throw sand in the gears.
It's an encouraging start. But there is more that must be done to revive the tools Rev Lawson, who died in 2024, left us for times such as these. I am inspired by an organization called Free DC, which is leading the way in revitalizing the lineage of nonviolence for this generation by training and organizing thousands of people across our nation's capital to stand up for the capital city's right to home rule, defend workers at federal agencies and protect immigrants. It is a fitting place to begin; Washington DC is still a colony and it is reeling from the firings of thousands of its residents, government workers, without cause.
To meet the moment, it will be crucial to scale the work of organizations like FreeDC across the nation and train tens of thousands more in the proud nonviolent tradition that Rev Lawson and his fellow civil rights pioneers left us.
Thousands of people have descended on town hall meetings around the country opposing cuts to Medicaid, which provides essential healthcare and elder care to nearly 80 million people. Some of those showing up are members of unions, community groups and disability groups. Others are people who have never taken action before for whom Congress's decision is a matter of life and death. Camilla Hudson came to Washington DC to defend Medicaid because she has an autoimmune disease that requires expensive treatments. She explained that without prescription drug coverage, 'it's terrifying … I would have to leave the US because I will die here.'
These people may have voted for Trump, for Harris or not at all in 2024. Medicaid is even more important to people in red states than blue states. Most of them would not show up to a rally to defend the rule of law, but they are highly motivated by an issue that hits close to home. The activism is having a huge impact as some unlikely voices in Congress – who have been otherwise loath to break from the administration – openly declare their opposition to cuts.
Meanwhile, thousands of people around the country have mobilized to protect their immigrant co-workers, co-parishioners and neighbors. The upswelling of support in Los Angeles, for example, includes union members, people of faith and relatives of immigrants who were not active before the recent raids.
This is what it means to de-legitimize – and it goes hand in hand with disruption. De-legitimization, the process of driving down public support for authoritarian policies, recognizes that an administration with policies polling in the 20s or low 30s will be less able to execute its agenda or prevail in the courts than a government whose policies are supported broadly by the public.
The goal is to win over everyday people through organizing, helping them understand the connections between the challenges they're facing and the harmful actions of the administration. This process will ideally help people identify authoritarian strategies, allowing them to better resist propaganda. If done well, organizing can also serve to strengthen citizens' commitment to democratic principles by offering them an experience of democracy in practice each day, rather than as a quadrennial abstraction.
To this end, the administration's 'flood the zone' attacks on so many cornerstones of American life offer not only the biggest organizing imperative, but also the biggest organizing opportunity of our lifetimes. We must harness the power of the many millions of Americans who now feel under threat, including older Americans, veterans, the US-citizen children and spouses of immigrants, the parents of disabled and trans kids, and the large number of people who would be affected by cuts to Medicaid, including patients and medical workers. To name a few.
Unexpected constituencies are raising their voices. Take scientists, who have long sought to protect their research by staying away from politics. Recognizing that the administration's actions are not only undermining their own work but destroying the scientific enterprise for a generation, they are speaking out and even organizing marches of their own.
Perhaps the greatest organizing challenge facing the pro-democracy coalition in the US will be bridging between the largely middle-class constituency that is fired up about attacks on the rule of law and the largely working-class base that is focused on kitchen table issues – not on a system that hasn't been working for them. Without the latter group, the coalition will not be big enough to succeed.
We must not be seen to be working to restore a broken system, but rather to transform it through a new vision, with accompanying policy goals. That may include, for example, campaigns for workers' rights to help dissolve the unnatural bond between billionaires and some blue-collar voters that fuels the authoritarian coalition.
We must develop and demonstrate alternatives that people will believe in.
Disruption and de-legitimization lead to the third key objective: drawing defectors. These efforts must be targeted across the ideological spectrum and they must be achieved at two levels: that of institutions and individuals. Authoritarians rely on support, whether passive or active, from key pillars of society: corporations, churches, police and media outlets, among others. Under pressure, institutions like law firms and Columbia University shamefully moved from neutrality to active collaboration with authoritarianism.
It does not have to be this way. Harvard's recent decision to challenge the administration in court is an example of institutional defection, moving from the sidelines to active opposition. It did not happen by accident. Harvard's action was the culmination of a massive behind-the-scenes organizing campaign of faculty, students, donors and alumni. Similar efforts are taking place across law firms, foundations and other universities.
Employees have considerable leverage when it comes to winning defections at scale among businesses, faith institutions, tech companies, the military and law enforcement. They can push their institutions to not 'obey in advance' and instead openly resist authoritarianism. Many individuals across the country who are concerned about the advance of authoritarianism forget the power they can wield over the institutions they are a part of. Now is the time to use it.
It is also necessary to win defections at the level of everyday people. Consider the example of Women of Welcome, a group of evangelicals who educate and engage other Christians on issues related to immigrants and refugees. This group recently led a delegation of evangelical women to the southern US border to provide aid to asylum seekers and listen to their stories. They are not progressives – but they are taking a strong public stand for immigrants and recruiting their neighbors in communities that have been broadly receptive to the Trump administration's xenophobic appeals.
In seeking to build a pro-democracy coalition, members of the opposition must resist the impulse to write off, shame or expel those with whom they have disagreed in the past and may still disagree on many important issues. The imperative of defeating authoritarianism must supersede internecine fights or purity tests. It is essential to talk to everyone.
Embodying the moral character taught by civil rights leaders like Rev Lawson – acting nonviolently and showing love to those on the other side – will be vital in creating the kind of attractive, welcoming gateway for defectors to join the movement. Doing so will help to create a pro-democracy majority that extends beyond our traditional allies in the progressive movement.
I may finally grasp what Rev Lawson meant when he said that love is our secret weapon. When a mom and her three school-aged children were detained by Ice in the small upstate New York town of Sackets Harbor (ironically, the home of Tom Homan, the administration's immigration enforcement 'czar'), public school teachers and administrators swung into action, engaging in aggressive advocacy. These educators may or may not have been politically engaged before, but their care for their students moved them to take a stand, speak up and choose opposition over collaboration. They won – the mom and kids are free as a result of their courage.
We face considerable obstacles in trying to prevent the consolidation of authoritarianism in the United States. But the truth is that they are smaller than those encountered by prior generations. The freedom rides, orchestrated in part by Rev Lawson, are now iconic, but we forget the violence that riders encountered in the process. Following the successful Birmingham campaign to win desegregation in 1963, four little Black girls were killed in the 16th Street Baptist church bombing. The next year, civil rights workers James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner were the victims of a deadly KKK conspiracy in Mississippi.
Yes, the physical threats to judges, politicians, election officials and citizens in the United States are real. Yes, immigrants have been taken off the streets and held without due process. Fortunately, as worrying as this week's troop deployment to California should be to all of us, we still have a precious window of time to organize and dissent openly. We can take hope from cases around the world when everyday people have made that choice in large numbers.
U-turns happen. Scholars have found that 73% of episodes of authoritarian breakthrough around the world in the last 30 years have been followed by democratic revivals. Sometimes, those revivals bring about an even stronger democracy than what came before. But U-turns aren't self-executing. And the time to act is limited – comparable cases like India and Hungary suggest that if authoritarianism is not effectively challenged in the first couple of years, it can deepen and become the new normal for a decade or more.
Our aspiration cannot be to return to the before times. The rotten fruit of authoritarianism grew in the soil of obscene inequality and insufficiently democratic institutions. We must therefore not only oppose autocracy, but propose something better – democratic alternatives that are ready to go if we can awaken from this nightmare.
Rev Lawson and his contemporaries did not promise an easy path. Millions of us will have to reckon honestly with our current reality. We will need to make the choice to act. We will need to contribute our time, talent and money strategically. We will have to tap deep reservoirs of courage and love we didn't know we had. Rev Lawson's key teaching was hopeful: if we do those things, we can get free.
Deepak Bhargava has been an organizer and campaigner for 30 years and is the co-author of Practical Radicals: Seven Strategies to Change the World. He currently serves as the president of the Freedom Together Foundation and the Movement Action Fund