UK: School Boys Place Health First, Gender Norms Second

On Thursday morning a group of high school students from Isca academy confidently strutted into school clad in skirts. In spite of temperatures exceeding 30C in this last week, school authorities cautioned that the boys must keep to their regular school uniform, which as of yet does not allow for shorts. Acknowledging that the school would likely remain uncompromising in its stance, a group of boys opted to wear the school skirt in lieu of their long trousers, allowing them to partially resolve the issue, all whilst respecting the school uniform. Media pounced on the story, and the school soon came under fire for not being more mindful of student health.

Although it would be easy to dismiss this story as nothing more than a charming little tale, there are nevertheless some important takeaways from this wee rebellious act. In the first place, it highlights the potential to act in a way that challenges authority without necessarily acting outside of the law. Although such action is perhaps still limited, it might nevertheless prove to be more inviting, allowing for greater people to join your cause. In the second place, it underscores the power of humor in activism, or as we like to call it here at CANVAS, “laughtivism.” In their cheeky, albeit lawful action, the boys used to humor to underscore the absurdity of the school’s response and accordingly draw to it criticism. Finally, this anecdote serves to remind readers that protest at its best is fundamentally intersectional. Whilst these boys might have only been protesting a Kafkaesque school bureaucracy, doing so involved challenging gender norms, inevitably also drawing in the support of feminists and queer-theorists the world over – accidental allies, but allies nevertheless.

Read more here. Photo: BBC/Apex.

Hong Kong Youth Activist: We Will Continue Our Fight By Carol Off and Jeff Douglas

Read more here: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-friday-edition-1.4164029/we-will-continue-our-fight-why-hong-kong-activist-joshua-wong-will-keep-speaking-out-for-democracy-1.4165073. Photo: Anthony Wallace/AFP/Getty Images. Piece by Carol Off and Jeff Douglas.

Joshua Wong was 17 years old when he gained global attention as a leader of the Umbrella Revolution, a series of pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong that took place in 2014. Wong, who is the subject of a new documentary on Netflix Joshua: Teenager vs. Superpower, plans to plead guilty for his role in the revolution and says he’s proud of his involvement in pressuring his government for change.

 

Yes Magazine: Pop-Up Schools to Train Amateur Activists in U.S. By Chuck Collins

Read more: https://www.yesmagazine.org/new-economy/how-to-go-the-resistance-distance2014pop-up-schools-for-new-activists20170612. Photo: shaunl / iStock. Article by Chuck Collins.

Opened on May 4, 2017, the Sojourner Truth School for Social Change Leadership will provide in-person training opportunities in activism in Western Massachusetts. The Truth School is one of a number of new schools emerging to meet the demands of a new wave of activism and resistance that has swept throughout the United States since the Trump election. People have offered free venues for the classes to operate; the Truth School is now popping up in art studios, libraries, and community centers.

The school is similar to the Citizenship schools and Freedom schools formed during the Civil Rights movement to fight for voter registration and teach youth about Black history and civic engagement.

 

Africa News: NGOs denounce human right violation in Morocco

Read more on Africa News and on Anadolu Agency. Photo: Jalal Morchidi – Anadolu Agency.

The Moroccan Coalition for Human Rights on Wednesday denounced “abusive” arrests and cases of “torture” in al-Hoceïma.

The coalition which comprises 22 organisations, criticized Moroccan authorities for repressing demonstrators of the “Hirak”, a popular protest movement that has been shaking the northern Rif region for months.

The focal point of the movement was to call for the development of the Rif region deemed marginalised.

 

NBC News: Meet a Young Venezuelan Artist Known As the ‘Painter of Protests’

Read the full article here. By ASSOCIATED PRESS. Photo by Ariana Cubillos / AP.

Abuse is hurled daily at the art of Oscar Olivares.

Rubber bullets and tear gas canisters clatter off protesters’ shields adorned with his works — cartoon-like digital paintings that have made him an instant icon for the demonstrators who have taken to Venezuela’s streets in recent weeks to oppose the socialist government.

Olivares received a standing ovation at a recent event by former colleagues of volunteer paramedic Paul Moreno, who died in May after being crushed by a truck while attending to injured protesters. In Olivares’ hands, Moreno is immortalized as 24-year-old clinching his fist high the air while walking through a cloud of tear gas with Venezuela’s colorful flag trailing behindIn this June 2017 photo, a protester carries a homemade shield embellished with an adhesive printout created by artist Oscar Olivares, during a protest in Caracas, Venezuela.

Another popular creation, called the “Heroes of Liberty,” depicts the more than 50 victims of this year’s protests – along with victims of previous unrest in 2014 – standing alongside independence hero Simon Bolivar and other national icons smiling widely and staring into a sky full of white doves.

 

Slate: Why Dictators Don’t Have a Sense of Humor

Originally published on Slate.

It was early on in our efforts to take down Slobodan Milosevic, and like all novice activists, we had a moment of reckoning. Looking around the room at one of our meetings, we realized that we were a bunch of Serbian kids, and rather than focus on what we had going for us, we began obsessing about everything we didn’t have. We didn’t have an army. We didn’t have a lot of money. We had no access to media, which was virtually all state-run. The dictator, we realized, had both a vision and the means to make it come true; his means involved instilling fear. We had a much better vision, but we thought on that grim evening, no way of turning it into a reality.

It was then that we came up with the smiling barrel.

The idea was really very simple. As we chatted, someone kept talking about how Milosevic only won because he made people afraid, and someone else said that the only thing that could trump fear was laughter. It was one of the wisest things I’ve ever heard. As Monty Python skits have always been up there right with Tolkien for me, I knew very well that humor doesn’t just make you chuckle—it makes you think. We started telling jokes. Within an hour, it seemed to us entirely possible that all we really needed to bring down the regime were a few healthy laughs.  And we were eager to start laughing.

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Milosevic-on-a-barrel, smash his face for just a dinar.

Photo courtesy Srdja Popovic

We retrieved an old and battered barrel from a nearby construction site and delivered it to our movement’s “official” designer—my best friend, Duda, a designer—and asked him to draw a realistic portrait of the fearsome leader’s face. Duda was delighted to help. When we came back a day or two later, we had ourselves Milosevic-on-a-barrel, grinning an evil grin, his forehead marked by the barrel’s numerous rust spots. It was a face so comical that even a 2-year-old would have found it amusing. But we weren’t done. We asked Duda to paint a big, pretty sign that read “Smash his face for just a dinar.” That was about two cents at the time, so it was a pretty good deal. Then we took the sign, the barrel, and a baseball bat to Knez Mihailova Street, the main pedestrian boulevard in Belgrade. Right off Republic Square, Knez Mihailova Street is always filled with shoppers and strollers, as this is where everyone comes to check out the latest fashions and meet their friends for drinks in the afternoons. We placed the barrel and the sign smack in the middle of the street—right at the center of all the action—and hastily retreated to, the Russian Emperor, a nearby coffee shop, to watch.

The first few passersby who noticed the barrel and the sign seemed confused, unsure what to make of the brazen display of dissidence right there in the open. The following 10 people who checked it out were more relaxed; some even smiled, and one went as far as picking up the bat and holding it for a few moments before putting it down and quickly walking away. Then, the moment we’d been waiting for: A young man, just a few years younger than us, laughed out loud, searched his pockets, took out a dinar, plopped it into a hole on top of the barrel, picked up the bat, and with a gigantic swing smashed Milosevic in the face. You could hear the solid thud reverberate five blocks in each direction. He must have realized that with the few remaining independent radio and newspapers of Belgrade criticizing the government all the time, one dent in a barrel wasn’t going to land him in prison. To him, the risk of action was acceptably low. And once he took his first crack at Milosevic’s face, others started to realize that they too could get away with it. It was something between peer pressure and a mob mentality. Soon curious bystanders lined up for a turn at bat and took their own swings. People started to stare, then to point, then to laugh. Before long some parents were encouraging their children who were too small for the bat to kick the barrel instead with their tiny legs. Everybody was having fun, and the sound of this barrel being smashed was echoing all the way down to Kalemegdan Park. It didn’t take long for dinars to pour into the barrel and for poor Duda’s artistic masterpiece—the stern and serious mug of Mr. Milosevic—to get beaten into unrecognizability by an enthusiastic and cheerful crowd.

As this was happening, my friends and I were sitting outside at the café, sipping double espressos, smoking Marlboros, and cracking up. It was fun to see all these people blowing off steam with our barrel. But the best part lay ahead.

It came when the police arrived. It took 10 or 15 minutes. A patrol car stopped nearby and two pudgy policemen stepped out and surveyed the scene. This is when I came up with my beloved “Pretend Police” game. I played it for the first time at the café that day. The police’s first instinct, I knew, would be to arrest people. Ordinarily, of course, they’d arrest the demonstration’s organizers, but we were nowhere to be found. That left the officers with only two choices. They could arrest the people lining up to smack the barrel—including waiters from nearby cafés, good-looking girls holding shopping bags, and a bunch of parents with children—or they could confiscate the barrel itself. If they went for the people, they would cause an outrage, as there’s hardly a law on the books prohibiting violence against rusty metal cylinders, and mass arrests of innocent bystanders is the surest way for a regime to radicalize even its previously pacified citizens.

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Which left only one viable choice: Arrest the barrel. Within minutes of their arrival, the two rotund officers shooed away the onlookers, positioned themselves on either side of the filthy thing, and hauled it off in their squad car. Another friend of ours, a photographer from a small students’ newspaper, was on hand to shoot this spectacle. The next day, we made sure to disseminate his photographs far and wide. Our stunt ended up on the cover of two opposition newspapers, the type of publicity that you literally couldn’t buy. That picture was truly worth a 1,000 words: It told anyone who so much as glimpsed at it that Milosevic’s feared police really only consisted of a bunch of comically inept dweebs.

Of course, this was just the beginning. Over the next six years, my friends and I built Otpor—Serbian for resistance—a nonviolent social movement that challenged Milosevic’s regime, stripped it of its legitimacy, and led to its downfall. But it began by chipping away at the people’s fear. It began with a joke.

Today my colleagues and I help train nonviolent democratic movements around the world, and the barrel story is one of the first stories we share with aspiring activists. And, without fail, every time people hear about it they say more or less what my Egyptian friends did when we walked them through Republic Square. “It’ll never work back where I’m from.” But I remind my new friends that while humor varies from country to country, the need to laugh is universal. I’ve noticed this as I’ve traveled to meet with activists around the world. People from Western Sahara or Papua New Guinea may not agree with me on what exactly makes something funny—for more on this check out any German “comedy”—but everyone agrees that funny trumps fearsome anytime. Good activists, like good stand-up comedians, just need to practice their craft.

Politico: Harvey Milk’s First Crusade: Dog Poop

Originally published on Politico.

As a former leader of the youth movement that overthrew Slobodan Miloševic—and now as somebody who shares his passion about non-violent struggle with everyone from street activists in the Middle East to students at Harvard and NYU—there’s one thing I’ve learned: A big part of a movement’s success will be determined by the battles it chooses to fight, and a lot of that has to do with how well it understands its opponent. Many centuries ago, Sun Tzu reflected on this idea when he told readers of The Art of War how important it is to always put your strong points against your enemy’s weak points. Take Gandhi, who went up against the British army, the most powerful in the world, by attracting 10,000 Indians to march for tax-free salt—a mineral essential for human survival and found in almost every household, no matter how poor.

That’s the reason you see so many activists campaigning for better and healthier food: Because no matter what a person’s religion, skin color or political belief may be, there isn’t a single human being out there who doesn’t need to eat. Whether it’s food or some other basic necessity, activists who can identify some everyday thing that speaks to as many people as possible will always have an advantage over those who cling to a much narrower platform.

Which brings us to Milk. Harvey Milk, that is. Apologies for the pun, but you may have heard about this pioneering politician who was the first openly gay public official in America. If you haven’t, he is wonderfully portrayed by Sean Penn in an Academy Award-winning movie called Milk that you may want to check out. Milk’s story is about many things: courage, conviction and dedication. But most of all, it’s about how important it is to start with the small stuff. And by small, I mean dog poop-level small.

Nothing in the first four decades of Harvey Milk’s life suggested that he would one day become an inspiration to anyone seriously interested in human rights and equality. Born on Long Island to a conservative, middle-class Jewish family, he’d known he was gay from a very young age, but took great pains to cover up his true identity. He joined the Navy, fought in Korea and then found work first as an insurance actuary and then as a researcher for a large Wall Street securities firm. This future icon of liberal America even campaigned for the archconservative Republican presidential candidate Barry Goldwater. Milk was hardly a revolutionary, and in fact he once broke off with a boyfriend he dearly loved because he felt the young man was too likely to challenge authority and get in trouble with the police. Milk was successful and respectable, with neatly cropped hair and a closetful of fine suits. He was also miserable, living a lie. Eventually he got fed up: In 1969, at the age of 39, he quit his job, got rid of the tie, let his hair grow and moved west to San Francisco.

The city he found was one busy being reborn. By 1969, it had the largest gay population of any major metropolitan area in the United States. Neighborhoods like the Castro, where Milk eventually settled, were shedding their old residents—working-class Irish Catholics—and welcoming in new ones, young men and women who had come to San Francisco seeking tolerance, free love and flower power. Here Milk felt liberated. Having spent a lifetime keeping his sexuality a secret, he was now accepted openly and wanted to help other gay men and women not to be ashamed of themselves.

Milk, who ran a popular camera shop, soon became involved in local politics. His first stop was the Alice B. Toklas Memorial Democratic Club, the most powerful—and only—gay political organization in town. Milk showed up, smiling widely and talking bravely. He was like so many other young, talented and hugely passionate men and women who decide to make a difference. The way to victory, he and his closest friends believed, was to tell the truth, raise good points, offer sensible solutions and count on good people to come out and vote for change.

But it wasn’t so simple. Back then, even in San Francisco, homosexuality was still a taboo subject. Today, with the advance of gay marriage and the growing acceptance of homosexuality in American society, it’s easy to forget how different the cultural landscape was when Harvey Milk ran for office. In the early 1970s, when Milk was first mobilizing, gay sex was still a felony in many places and a legitimate cause for eviction from rented apartments. As late as 1973, the American Psychiatric Association categorized homosexuality as a mental disorder. Being gay wasn’t something that people were comfortable with. So Milk was running a principled platform that confused, turned off and even revolted plenty of ordinary voters.

His campaign was, of course, a disaster. Milk had no money, no staff and no idea how to run an effective campaign. He did manage to get the support of some gay business owners tired of police harassment, and his personal charm helped win over a handful of converts. But when he finally ran for city supervisor in 1973, he came in 10th out of 32 candidates. But Milk persevered. He discovered a talent for rousing speeches and gave them frequently, talking about persecution and the injustices of anti-gay legislation. He wanted to represent his community, and thought the best way to do that was by organizing all the gays together as one political bloc with a few key allies.

Again he failed. While he had managed to go more mainstream, making inroads with labor unions and firemen and meeting with regular people at bus stops and movie theaters, it still wasn’t enough. This time, although he came closer to victory with a seventh-place showing, a margin of 4,000 voters still guaranteed that Milk would remain little more than a well-meaning and talented niche activist.

Milk needed to attack from a different angle, and even though hard-core evangelical Christians across the country were using San Francisco’s gay community as a stand-in for all that was evil in America, he sought to stand up for his community by focusing on something that all San Franciscans lived in fear of: dog shit.

Turbulent London: Book Review: ‘Blueprint for Revolution’

Originally published on Turbulent London. By Hannah Awcock.

Srdja Popovic and Matthew Miller. Blueprint for Revolution: How to Use Rice Pudding, Lego Men, and Other Non-Violent Techniques to Galvanise Communities, Overthrow Dictators, or Simply Change the World. London: Scribe, 2015. £9.99

Srdja Popovic is particularly well qualified to give advice on the use of non-violent protest tactics. One of the leaders of Otpor!, the non-violent movement that overthrew Slobodan Milosevic in Serbia, he then decided to use his experience to help others and founded CANVAS, a non-profit organisation that gives advice and training to activists all over the world. Blueprint for Revolution is part how-to guide, part memoir, in which  Popovic uses stories of successful activism to illustrate his advice. Many of the stories come from his own experience as an “ordinary revolutionary” (p vi) and protest guru.

There is a false notion that only the elites in our societies matter and that all change, progress, or setbacks emanate magically from within their dark and greedy souls…The world we live in worships and respects the strong and the mighty. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that nobody gives enough credit to the weak and the humble. But, as we have learned, even the smallest creature can change the world.” (p260)

Some of Popovic’s advice might look more at home in a business manual than a protest one- branding is crucial, for example, and find out what the people want instead of trying to make them care about the same things you do- but it’s good advice nonetheless. As Popovic explains, Harvey Milk was elected on a promise to crack down on dog poo, not because of his stance on gay rights.

Otpor logo

The logo of Otpor!, the Serbia social movement which toppled Slobodan Milosevic (Source: b92).

Popovic is a strong advocate of what he calls ‘laughtivism’ (he admits it isn’t the best name!); undermining authority through comedy and laughter. Those in power, particularly despots and dictators, are used to being taken seriously, and making fun of them can be a powerful weapon- “the only thing that could trump fear is laughter” (p100). My favourite example (which made me laugh as I read about it) was Otpor!’s idea of painting Milosevic’s face on an old barrel and putting it in a busy public street with a baseball bat and a sign inviting people to “smash his face” (p101-3). Popovic’s love of laughter shines through in his writing; Blueprint for Revolution is a fun and light-hearted read. He comes across as a genuinely nice guy, and even gives his personal email address at the end of the book, asking readers to “please keep in touch” (p261).

On occasion Popovic’s relentless positivity can grate slightly. He hopes that the book will inspire some to take action, “to get you on your feet and moving” (p ix). Call me cynical, but I’m not convinced a book can make an activist out of someone, no matter how good it is. This is a minor gripe however; overall the book’s tone is uplifting and did make me feel hopeful, which is not a common occurrence when it comes to politics. Also, the captions for all the illustrations are at the front of the book, so you have to flip back and forth for information about a picture (again, I am nitpicking).

Blueprint for Revolution: How to Use Rice Pudding, Lego Men, and Other Non-Violent Techniques to Galvanise Communities, Overthrow Dictators, or Simply Change the World may not be winning any prizes for short titles, but it is a fun read, which cannot be said for a lot of books about overthrowing violent dictators. It may not turn you into a non-violent revolutionary, but it certainly is an enjoyable way to spend a few hours.

The Politic: A DIY Guide for Overthrowing Dictators

Originally published in The Politic. By Yifu Dong.

AFTER RECEIVING A copy of Blueprint for Revolution, my top concern was bringing the book home. If the customs officials at the Beijing airport chanced to order my luggage into the X-ray machine, they would surely ask what books I was carrying. Last December, I told them, “textbooks,” smiling a little, looking confident, a Beijing kid pretending his best. This time, I knew I would say, “novels,” and I rehearsed the line in my mind every day. But as a necessary precautionary measure, I decided to put the book in a plastic bag with clothes, leaving some harmless English novels and Spanish dictionaries on the surface for inspection. Any book named Blueprint for Revolution would definitely not be welcome in Mainland China today, unless the author was Godfather Marx, Comrade Lenin or Dear Leader Mao. Fortunately, my luggage was not inspected this time.

The author of Blueprint, Srdja Popovic, is not particularly well-known, but when I heard him speak at Yale’s College Freedom Forum last semester, I knew I had to read his Blueprint for Revolution: How to use rice pudding, Lego men, and other nonviolent techniques to galvanize communities, overthrow dictators, or simply change the world. (There goes the best subtitle of the year.) Unlike scholars or dissidents, Popovic is first and foremost a victor. In 2000, a movement he helped found, Otpor! (Resistance!), successfully overthrew one of the most notorious dictators in recent memory––Serbia’s Slobodan Milosevic––who was later tried at The Hague in 2006 for genocide. Moreover, Otpor! achieved its goal through nonviolent means. In this book, Popovic explains how Otpor! succeeded and lists the necessary elements of successful and peaceful social revolutions.

Listening to Mr. Popovic at the Freedom Forum, I was somewhat glad that “revolution” was finally not a US-centric or Euro-centric topic. Even if those living in free societies care deeply about the plight of those under dictatorships around the world, many experiences of the oppressed are not easily relatable.

However, oddly enough, the book is written in English and sold in the “free world.” What seems quite strange to me, but perhaps encouraging to Popovic’s intended audience, is that the book tries to ignore the differences between revolutions in democratic and undemocratic societies. Popovic assuages his readers whose countries allow this book to appear in bookstores: “[You] don’t have to be groaning under a dictatorship to apply the principles of people power; they are universal, and they apply no matter who you are and what your problem may be.” In the last chapter, Popovic provided the fictional example of “Kathy,” who lobbied persistently and peacefully to achieve her goal. He notes that he has met many Kathys during his travels in the United States.

Unfortunately, while Popovic emphasizes that the principles are the same, there are not many Kathys elsewhere. The book, after all, pertains more to revolutions against dictators than lobbying in American towns; it covers  movements from Tahrir Square to Tiananmen Square, from Burma to Belarus, from Moscow to the Maldives, from Kyiv to Kenya, from Serbia to Syria, just to name a few. Despite the excitement and energy Popovic brings to the pages, few revolutions mentioned in the book ended up successful. Popovic sums up the painful lessons of these failed revolutions, reminders of the continuing hemorrhage in undemocratic regimes.

The style of the book, however, is a wonderful break from the droning tone of some academics. As insincere and random as Popovic sometimes sounds, his messages are clear and his points sharp. This approach diffuses the tension surrounding the mere thought of revolutions, convincing more people to believe that they, too, can use nonviolent revolutions to change the world.

The book walks the readers through many tactics of organizing social movements. Popovic suggests that revolutionaries start with winning small victories, always have a vision in mind, understand the opponent’s support network, employ humor to absorb force, make oppression backfire, unite different kinds of people, plan every small step, avoid falling into the trap of violence and, finally, declare themselves winners at the right time. (The book’s website includes a more thorough summary of each chapter, a treat few other books offer.)

Besides listing tactics, Popovic provides in-depth analysis on why the underlying principles are universal. For example, some Syrian activists, who received training from Popovic and his Centre for Applied Nonviolent Action and Strategies (CANVAS), never thought humor could be part of the Syrian revolution. Popovic told them about how Serbian activists once put out a barrel with Milosevic’s picture on it and instructed innocent passers-by to smack the barrel while activists retreated to a nearby café to watch the spectacle. Ultimately, the police could arrest no one but the barrel, an act showing the foolishness of the authorities. The Syrians could not have possibly used a barrel, for anyone smacking at it might be arrested. So instead, the activists inscribed anti-regime slogans such as “Freedom” and “Enough” on thousands of ping-pong balls and rolled them down the hilly avenues of Damascus, forcing the police to chase after the balls.

Although these tactics seem useful and even fun, what the book doesn’t mention (though Popovic emphasized it during the College Freedom Forum at Yale), is that many regimes around the world seemed to have studied the revolutionaries’ blueprint, and in turn strengthened oppression and devised countermeasures.

Take China for example. When I read about nonviolence and unity, I thought about a moderate Uighur scholar and professor, Ilham Tohti, whose calls for ethnic unity and creating blogs were enough to land him a life sentence. While reading about starting with small victories, I thought about China’s famous “Feminist Five,” who planned to distribute leaflets against sexual harassment on public transportation on International Women’s Day. But two days before their planned action, they were detained and released on parole more than a month later. (Chinese law allows the police to detain people up to one month without pressing charges.) Someone must have brought a copy of Blueprint into Beijing without putting it in a bag of clothes.

After reading the book, I realized that Blueprint for Revolution may first and foremost be a guide for dictators, providing them with all the wisdom of successful revolutionaries so that they could in turn deliver more delicate, better-targeted oppression. Furthermore, Popovic reminds readers that “luck matters,” meaning that the revolutionaries will have to put principle into practice and possibly learn from trial and error.

Above all, practice is the essence of Blueprint for Revolution, and the methods covered in the book will only come in handy with it. Anyone seeking inspiration from the book should not be deterred from trying out the feasible methods Blueprint introduces toward shaping a better world. Although dictators may first capitalize upon the advice of the book and gain even more advantage over dissidents, activists and revolutionaries are more creative, more resourceful, and more resilient. With the guide of Blueprint and sufficient practice, the oppressed might hope to prevail in the long run.

Scientific American: Selma’s Timely–and Empirically Sound–Message of Nonviolence

Originally published on Scientific American. By John Horgan.

Americans are flocking to a film that celebrates a soldier who killed lots of people during the U.S. war in Iraq. Meanwhile, a growing number of Americans want the U.S. to send ground troops back into Iraq to fight ISIS, the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria.

Scholarship shows that nonviolent tactics, like those depicted in the film Selma, which focuses on the struggle of Martin Luther King and others in the civil-rights movement in the 1960s, have been more effective than violent ones.

So now is the perfect time for people to see Selma, which like American Sniper has been nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. Selma celebrates a genuine hero, Martin Luther King, and it delivers a message—backed up by empirical evidence–that our violence-intoxicated era badly needs to hear.

Selma dramatizes one of American’s history’s most inspiring episodes, when King and other courageous activists banded together to challenge violent, state-sponsored bigotry and injustice and changed our nation for the better.

The inaccuracies that some critics have griped about are nit-picky. Selma hews to the historical record more closely than most historical films (even though the estate of Martin Luther King, Jr., refused to allow Selma’s director, Ava DuVernay, to quote from his speeches). Compared to American Sniper, Selma is True as a Euclidian proof.

The film recreates the horror of “Bloody Sunday,” an incident in 1965 when Alabama police beat 600 civil rights protesters marching across the Edmund Pettus Bridge (named for a grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan). After the bloodied activists retreat to a church, one declares that it’s time to fight the police with guns.

A protest leader, Andrew Young, insists that violence is not the answer. “You can’t win that way,” Young says in the film, which closely tracks Young’s own recollections in a 1985 interview. “I’m not talking about the Bible, I’m talking facts. Cold, hard facts.” Young, who went on to become an eminent politician and diplomat, argues that nonviolence is not just morally superior to violence; it is more effective, especially for people struggling for justice against a more powerful group.

King emphasized the pragmatism of nonviolence too, of course, and so does political scientist Gene Sharp, whom I have discussed previously on this blog and in my book The End of War. Drawing upon the careers of King and Gandhi as well as other historical episodes, Sharp argues that violence, even in the service of a just cause, often precipitates greater injustice and suffering; nonviolent movements are more likely than violent ones to prevail and to lead to democratic, non-militarized regimes.

The scholars Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephan present further evidence of the effectiveness of nonviolence in Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict. The 2012 book asserts that between 1900 and 2006 “campaigns of nonviolent resistance were more than twice as effective as their violent counterparts in achieving their stated goals.”

Another recent book on nonviolent activism is Blueprint for a Revolution, by the Serbian activists Srdja Popovic and Slobodan Djinovic. The two were leaders of Otpor, a movement that helped topple Serbian dictator Slobodan Milosevic in 2000, and they went on to found the Center for Applied Nonviolent Action and Strategies (Canvas).

Journalist Tina Rosenberg, who frequently writes about human rights, recently lauded the Serbians’ work in The New York Times. She wonders “what Syria could have been now, had the nonviolent activists in the opposition movement prevailed.”

I wonder what the world could have been if the U.S. had pursued less violent strategies for countering Muslim extremism after 9/11. The U.S. invasions of Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003 have been catastrophic failures. They have claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, cost trillions of dollars, made Afghanistan and Iraq even more violent and chaotic and exacerbated rather than quelling Muslim extremism.

Martin Luther King opposed U.S. militarism as well as injustice. Selma shows him briefly, privately, expressing doubts about the Vietnam War in 1965. King hesitated to oppose the Vietnam War publicly, fearing that an antiwar stance could undermine his authority as a civil-rights activist.

But in a major speech in 1967, King spelled out moral as well as practical objections to the Vietnam War. The U.S. military buildup, far from suppressing North Vietnam aggression, had exacerbated it, he suggested. North Vietnam “did not begin to send in any large number of supplies or men until American forces had arrived in the tens of thousands.”

King did not condone the violence of the North Vietnamese, but he argued that they had legitimate political goals. U.S. actions, he contended, had already killed as many as a million Vietnamese, “mostly children.” The war was hurting poor Americans, too, by diverting resources away from social programs. King urged the U.S. to stop bombing North Vietnam and set a date for withdrawal of its troops.

King’s speech (well worth reading in its entirety) enraged President Lyndon Johnson, who had supported civil rights legislation sought by King, and was denounced by major media, including The New York Timesand Washington Post. King was right that the Vietnam War was both immoral and unwinnable.

Last fall, I reported on non-military proposals for dealing with ISIS. Can such strategies work against a group that seems intent on using violence to provoke violent responses from the U.S. and other nations? I don’t know. But clearly our military strategies have not worked; in fact, they have made bad situations worse. So why not try nonviolence?

In the meantime, please root for Selma to win Best Picture, and for American Sniper to lose.