Why did you write this book?
During the pandemic, as the streets were filled with Black Lives Matter protesters, I realized that we had no complete, up-to-date guide to political activism. There are tons of great histories, case studies, and theoretical works, but nothing that brought them together in a simple, accessible guide. So I set out to write that book.
Does the book make a specific argument?
When you look at the grand sweep of history, you realize that every great advance in rights, opportunity, and common resources began with activism. Someone, operating outside of the normal channels of politics and government, had to raise hell. The history of democracy is really the history of activism.
For example…
Just run through American history from colonial times to the present. Activists were central to the struggle against the British crown, which led to the Revolutionary War. Tax protests in early America shaped the powers of federal and state governments. The abolition movement challenged slavery. Suffragists demanded the vote for women. Early labor organizers fought to give workers a voice. Civil rights activists demanded basic rights for Black Americans, from assembly to public accommodations to voting and beyond. Then came the antiwar, women’s, and gay rights movements. The environmental movement also arose in the 1960s and 1970s. We could go on…
Why can’t activists just work within the system?
They can, and they do. But when the deck is stacked against you, you have to take recourse to extraordinary means to make your case. And it’s not always visible to the public. A lot of important struggles in American history began with quiet resistance. Any kind of resistance that can put sand in the gears of government can lead to organizing and activism that draws broader support.
Who is this book for?
I wrote this book for anyone who cares about the future of democracy in America. That means, primarily, citizen activists—people who want to stand up for basic rights, opportunities, and the constitutional form of government. But it’s also for scholars and students, journalists, and anyone who wants to understand the complexity of American politics in this fraught age.
What if I don’t think of myself as an activist?
That’s fine. Most people don’t wake up one morning and say, “I’m an activist.” They start by noticing something wrong in their own community, workplace, or school and deciding they can’t ignore it. Activism isn’t about a label—it’s about action. If you care about fairness, about protecting rights, about keeping democracy alive, you’re already halfway there. The real work begins with conversations, small acts of resistance, and building connections with others who share your concerns. That’s how every great movement in American history has started.
Why does activism matter now?
Because nearly every pillar of American democracy is under assault—labor rights, environmental protections, women’s rights, immigration, civil rights, LGBTQ+ rights, the rule of law, even the right to speak out and protest. Authoritarian forces are testing the boundaries of what they can take away. If we don’t answer the call to activism now, we may not get another chance for a very long time.
Is activism just about protests?
Activism is more than protest. At its core, it’s about gaining a voice for everyone—the right to basic liberties and the opportunity to grow as individuals, groups, and communities. Protest is one tool, but activism also means organizing, educating, building institutions, and shaping agendas. It’s about taking control of our lives rather than leaving corporate, media, military, and government elites to decide how we live and what we must give up.
What do organizers have to do to succeed?
To begin, they have to have open and searching conversations with people in their communities. Saul Alinsky and the Industrial Areas Foundation developed a process for engaging people at the street level to find out what issues mattered most. When organizers come into a community thinking they already know, they’re usually wrong. It’s always better to learn from the people on the ground.
How does that work?
One of the IAF organizers, Arnie Graf, described how he worked in communities. He would go to local leaders and ask who really made a difference. Sometimes it was a housing activist, sometimes a teacher, sometimes someone working in parks. Whoever it was, Arnie went to see them.
Often they were surprised to get a visit. “I’m not political,” they would say. “That’s OK,” he’d reply. “Just tell me what’s going on—who cares about what issue, and who has trust in the community?” Over hundreds of conversations, he would map out the issues, organizations, and people who mattered. Then he’d help them articulate what mattered most and design agendas and actions together.
Then what?
Then they would figure out their ultimate goal. Who was their ultimate target? What were their guiding values? How were issues related to each other? Who could they count on as allies? What resources were available in the community? What organizations could be called on to join the fight?
And that’s where strategy comes from?
That’s a big part of it. You have to distinguish between strategy and tactics. Think of strategy as your theory of change and tactics as the specific actions you take to realize that change.
Say more about strategy…
Think of strategy as happening along four dimensions: time, space, force, and mind. Each one shapes how people think about issues, struggles, organizing, and community. Some movements think of time as a long-term resource to manage carefully. Others see time as urgent and believe they must make a quick hit and score a quick success. Most movements try to align short- and long-term strategies.
What about the other dimensions?
Think of space: where does the struggle take place? In the early stages of organizing farmworkers in California, César Chávez focused on battles with local growers. At a certain point, an organizer named Jerry Brown—not the later governor—argued that farmworkers could not succeed on that small scale. They had to take their fight to the whole nation. He proposed a boycott of buyers. Chávez resisted at first, but when Brown threatened to leave the movement to return to graduate school at Cornell, Chávez agreed to give it a try. It was a massive success. By shifting the scope of conflict from local to national and even international, the whole movement was transformed.
And force and mind?
Force is about how you compel the other side to listen and act. Persuasion is great, but people in power usually don’t respond to mere words. Activists must be willing to apply pressure, both on opponents and on the broader public.
Mind is about values. Do you appeal to shared community beliefs about democracy and rights, or do you confront people directly by challenging their basic assumptions?
OK, so those are the dimensions of strategy: time, space, force, and mind. What about tactics?
Exactly. Tactics are all about the specific actions you take to realize your strategy. They begin with small, even invisible actions and scale up to direct and public confrontation.
How does that happen?
Think of the concept of consent. Every political system—democracy or dictatorship—depends on the consent of the governed. That doesn’t mean people affirm what the regime is doing, but they do go along. At a certain point, activists may organize people to withdraw that consent.
How does that look in practice?
It could be as simple as refusing to pay taxes or to work under abusive conditions. Or it could be larger and more organized, like a strike. Strikes may be local—at a single factory or warehouse—or they may be general, involving workers, students, and others across society.
Isn’t activism mostly for young people?
Young people have always been the wellsprings of activism, going back to the Revolution—Nathan Hale, for example, was just 21. Sociologists call this “biographical availability”: younger people often haven’t yet taken on heavy responsibilities, so they have more time and freedom to commit to causes. But activism is not limited to youth. Research shows that many people dedicate themselves to movements across their entire lifetimes, bringing new skills, wisdom, and resources as they grow older.
How can small, local movements avoid being swallowed by big national organizations?
It’s always a challenge. The key is to build alliances across the movement world so local groups don’t face all-or-nothing choices. Movements are strongest when they remain a collection of smaller organizations working together rather than a single centralized body. That’s been true in labor organizing and the fight for gay rights. It was critical during the AIDS movement of the 1980s and 1990s, and earlier in the anti-highway battles of the 1970s, when very different neighborhoods—working-class, immigrant, middle-class—came together to resist destruction.
How do activists deal with burnout?
It’s a tough problem. The best answer is to build real movements—with organizations, resources, recruitment, and training. The danger of “pop-up” activism, when ordinary people rise up to meet emergencies without much structure, is that they often work too hard without enough support or strategy. It’s important to respond to urgent crises, but lasting energy comes from creating long-term capacity: institutions, leadership pipelines, and communities that can carry the work forward over time.
What about digital activism—hashtags, viral campaigns, online petitions?
Sure, people live online. Digital tools can spread awareness quickly and connect people across distances. But real activism requires action rooted in face-to-face relationships. There’s only so much you can learn by tapping keys or scrolling feeds. The real test comes in communities, where people wrestle with problems at street level. Activism is about connection—real human connection—not just screens.
How do you answer critics who say activism is divisive or dangerous?
Activism is nothing more or less than ordinary people standing up for their interests and values. That is the essence of democracy and self-governance. When you look at American history, you see that activists have often been among the most informed, careful, articulate, and principled people. They don’t always seem that way—after all, as John Lewis reminded us, activists are always “making good trouble.” But it’s trouble with a purpose. That doesn’t mean negative elements never creep in, but that’s true for all forms of politics, not just activism.
Do activists have to risk arrest to make a difference?
Not necessarily. Before major actions, organizers usually ask participants how far they are willing to go. Are you ready to confront counterprotesters or police? Are you prepared to risk arrest? Organizers are careful to respect people’s limits. Movements need participants at every level of commitment, from those who take on high-risk actions to those who support in quieter but equally vital ways.
What role does storytelling play in activism?
Activism is, in many ways, storytelling in action. Activists seek to rewrite the usual way of talking about issues and to place themselves inside a larger narrative. They want others to see their struggles as part of that broader story. At the 1963 March on Washington, for example, Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t just present a list of demands—he placed the civil rights struggle squarely within the American story of liberty and justice.
So when people resist the regime, then what?
Nothing ever happens easily. That’s why it’s so important to actually organize—to go out in the community, talk to people, win commitments, and train them in strategy and tactics. Activism is not about signing a petition on Facebook or even showing up to a massive march like the Women’s March or the BLM demonstrations. It depends on creating a force that is always present, always ready to confront authorities—not just in response to events, but to initiate new discussions and demands.
At a certain point, if all goes well, activists can make major changes in laws and policies.
That’s right, but it’s never easy. Activism is fundamentally about challenge and resistance; policymaking is fundamentally about bargaining and compromise. Activists sometimes feel like they’re selling out if they bargain with the enemy. Often, when a movement enters the legislative process, it loses energy and focus. That’s a danger—but one movements have to face.
Are there models for maintaining the challenging approach of activists and the collaborative approach of policymakers?
The answer may surprise you: Greenpeace. They’re known as radical and confrontational, but over the years they’ve developed a massive infrastructure that lets them pivot quickly from protest to policy. Even their fiercest opponents acknowledge that Greenpeace understands the issues deeply. They are real policy experts. This expertise allows them to keep one foot in confrontation and the other in negotiation.
If I finish this book, what’s one concrete step I can take tomorrow?
Show up—somewhere. Speak up—somehow. Learn something, then share what you’ve learned. Decide that you want to be part of the story of American democracy: that you will help keep the democratic experiment alive by committing your time and effort. Instead of letting others dictate what you can and cannot do, take charge of your own life—and work to ensure others can do the same.
What’s the future of activism in America and the world?
It depends. First, we have to get over the childish idea that activism is just reacting to a Facebook post or showing up at a rally. Those matter, but they’re not enough. Real activism requires recruitment, training, organization, expertise, resources, coalition building, and more. It’s really a way of life. And it has never been more important than now.