Laying Down in the Road
Lucinda Garthwaite, ILI Founder and Executive Director
“Those in power depend on us to do the work.”
I wrote that down and tacked it to my wall. It’s a quote from an interview with the philosopher, writer, and teacher Elizabeth Minnich. She’s talking about how everyday people, often unwittingly, carry out the will of those who intend harm and lead with cruelty.
Widespread repression and violence cannot happen without widespread cooperation, and Minnich’s study of what she names extensive evils has revealed the horrific results of unthinking cooperation, including genocides.
On the side of that coin, liberation movements have long succeeded through the power of thoughtful noncooperation. Historians point to the Indian independence movement led by Mahatma Gandhi as the root of the strategy, though, like much of history, I imagine there were incidents before about which not much has been written.
As I learned about liberatory organizational change, I’ve heard many stories about noncooperation in that context. One man spoke of a supervisor who consistently derided employees to the point of tears. Many colleagues, fearing similar treatment, avoided those who’d been targeted by the boss, leading to emotional distress and at least one resignation. “It became an awful place to work,” he told me.
When I asked him what he did in response, he told me he talked with a handful of trusted colleagues and then, “We laid down in the road.” He meant they refused to cooperate. In the face of cruelty, they sought out people who‘d been targeted and showed them kindness. They left the room as soon as derision began. They spoke highly of others as often as they could, and made sure that others could hear. Eventually, the tide shifted, and the supervisor’s cruelty lost its bite.
During the U.S. movement for Black civil rights, and through movements for human rights that have followed all over the world, people have laid down in the road; literally and metaphorically, they’ve obstructed cruelty through noncooperation.
Noncooperation is not only for individuals, though. Scholars point to civil society – schools, organizations, and other institutions beyond those associated with government or financial markets – as critical actors in a just social system. Stanford University scholar Lucy Bernholz refers to civil society as an “immune system for democracy.”
Still, despite compelling arguments for its liberating effect and its long history of success, noncooperation appears, to many, a strategy far out of reach. But it’s not.
On a personal level, it’s refusing to join in a chorus of cruel responses to cruelty. It’s walking out of a meeting that devolves to derision. It’s finding a way to bring joy or kindness, in these cynical, unkind times, to a transgender or immigrant friend. For the ILI, it’s continuing without pause or apology to work for organizations and schools in which everyone can thrive and behave in ways that make it possible for others to thrive.
Power is wielded in all kinds of systems, too often for unkind, unjust, and dangerous purposes. For reasons of safety, security, or well-being, not everyone can protest against such power, but refusing to cooperate with cruelty, even quietly, without fanfare, is within almost anyone’s reach.
_________
“Banality’s Evil: An Interview with Elizabeth Minnich.” By James Ballowe. Center for Humans and Nature. February 2018
Philanthropy and Digital Civil Society. Blueprint 2018: The Annual Industry Forecast. By Lucy Bernholz. Stanford University Center on Philanthropy and Civil Society. December 2017.