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A Dangerous Idea: Nonviolence as Tactic and Philosophy
Abstract
While some American civil rights activists professed belief in the “philosophy of nonviolence,” others declared nonviolent civil disobedience to be “a tactic rather than a philosophy.” Like many dichotomies, the tactic-versus-philosophy distinction combined as much as it divided. Those who viewed nonviolence as a tactic or method were treated as akin regardless of how much they differed in their tactics or methods. Similarly, those who believed in the philosophy of nonviolence were lumped together with each other and with those who saw nonviolence as a “way of life.” The history of the tactic-versus-philosophy dichotomy provides a unique window on the role of nonviolence within the American civil rights movement.
... The idea of peace challenge with non-violence [15] is intently related to the essential principles and exercise of Buddhism. It has been the plentiful virtue of Buddhist ethical philosophy. ...
Buddhadhamma of peace is theoretical in Buddhism intergraded as a key to unlock from inner peace to outer especially engages happiness and liberation. The Sustainable Development (SD) towards people around the world in 1980. Religion plays a particular role directive in human behavior. The conflict that leads the war has appeared with roots based on the desires of the human mind. The purpose of the current article is to engage Dhamma not only external but also internal spiritual to explore the sustainable development path of Buddhadhamma in Theravada canonical integrated peace. The analysis and synthesis were used. The finding has explored three domains i.e., firstly, the terms of external of war that fund the causes as individual behaviors; killing, controvert, and conflict, there integrated by Sīla particular five precepts. Secondly, the term of an internal war that funds the causes have immerged from hate, unkindness, thirst for personal interest, and selfishness, there integrated by Samadhi or meditation particular Brahmavihara. And at last, the term of the root of war that funds the causes have immerged from ignorant unknowing in Law of Kamma, unknowing in Law of the universe, and unknowing in causes and effect, there integrated by Paññā or wisdom for reach to peace.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. appears to have preferred nonviolent tactics for social justice that sidestepped the backfire problem. Given that he deployed approximately twenty-five nonviolent tactics, the number of options he chose not to deploy greatly outnumbers those he did deploy. Why? Both his circumstances and his philosophy shaped his preferences for nonviolent tactics. First, I explore how his preferred tactics embodied the praxis of his nonviolent personalism. Second, I explore the early introduction of King to pacifism and how this evolved during his graduate studies at Boston University. Third, I suggest that King drew upon his commitment to personalism to develop pragmatically his own approach to nonviolent activism, and that when King visited India, he was seeking practical support for his praxis of nonviolent activism. Finally, I reflect on how King’s praxis of nonviolent activism aimed to avoid the backfire problem.
Gandhi famously shook the foundations of the British Empire and sparked the beginning of a new anti-imperial era. But his critique of empire does not quite fit the familiar script of twentieth-century anti-imperialism. Gandhi's positions ranged from sincere expressions of imperial loyalty to a condemnation of English civilization while endorsing its moral empire, to an unqualified disavowal of the Britsh Empire without necessarily claiming independence. Reconstructing the long arc of his (anti-)imperial thought, this article shows that the idea of empire operated in the early Gandhi's thought in two ways: as the authorizing source of the rights of Indians and as the addressee of political claims. This genealogy helps explain the complex trajectory of his two separate breaks from empire. The article ultimately suggests that the key to understanding the global resonance of Gandhi's ideas lies in his transformation of the imperial adversary into a universal addressee of action.
This essay overcomes the division between “principled” and “strategic” approaches to nonviolence studies by demonstrating that ethical analysis is key to understanding movement strategy. I show how the moral phenomenologies of Martin Luther King Jr. and Emmanuel Lévinas, figures usually treated by scholars of principled nonviolence, possess genuine insight for nonviolent strategists. With reference to each thinker and supporting evidence from the #BlackLivesMatter movement, I argue that nonviolent resistance makes a moral appeal through the medium of the body to the conscience of those bearing witness. Analysis of the way King combined moral reflection and strategic action recovers his legacy for the pragmatic tradition of social thought, while Lévinas's theory of the face offers additional considerations for nonviolent practitioners aiming for moral transformation at the local level. Studies that elucidate the complex moral dynamics by which nonviolent movements either succeed or fail will make the field a greater asset to practitioners.
The recent explosion of philosophical papers on Confederate and Colonialist statues centers on a central question: When, if ever, is it permissible to admire a person? This paper contends that it's not just Confederates and enslavers whose reputations are on the line, but also pacifists like Martin Luther King, Jr., and Daisy Bates, whose commitments to pacifism meant they were unwilling to save others by using defensive violence, including others they talked into endangering themselves for the sake of racial equality. Other things being equal, that's gravely immoral if pacifism is false, and we shouldn't admire people guilty of grave immorality. So it appears that we shouldn't admire Bates or King, which is counterintuitive. To solve this problem, I explore several possibilities: that only selective traits of Bates and King are admirable, that Bates and King are admirable despite their grave immorality, and that Bates and King are admirable by virtue of their integrity. However, each of these proposals fails: the first because it inadequately captures our moral phenomenology (we admire people, not just their traits), the second because it ignores the extent to which gravely immoral commitments are constitutive of a person's moral character, and the third because we ought not to admire people for acting on their immoral beliefs. The paper concludes, first, that either pacifists like Bates and King aren't admirable or they are, and the latter presupposes the truth of pacifism. Second, I borrow from Vanessa Carbonell's ratcheting-up argument from moral sainthood to argue that pacifists like Bates and King provide epistemic defeaters to the objection that pacifism is unreasonably costly. Thus, not only are pacifists admirable only if they're right—they are right.
Role-play was a popular educational strategy within the American civil rights movement. Many civil rights activists performed the movement in private before performing it again in public. Compared to the scholarship on the role of music in the civil rights movement, the importance of drama has been understudied. The history of role-play as an educational strategy provides new insights into the relationship between performance and nonviolent activism, and offers an alternative genealogy of applied theatre.
Martin Luther King Jr. is widely read through his association with Gandhi's ideas and practice. Whilst it is important to neither overstate nor ignore this influence, the paper retraces the work undertaken behind the scenes to script this relationship for wider audiences. It questions how King's casting as America's black Gandhi was strategically undertaken, by whom and for what purposes, as well as exploring why it was ultimately short-lived. Although King experimented with Gandhism briefly in the late 1950s, by the early 1960s the idea had largely been dropped. In particular, the paper focusses on the role played by the American pacifist movement up to, and including, organizing King's visit to India in 1959. These sources are used to make a broader argument that King's ability to inhabit Gandhi's legacy during the movement's early years was critical to forging global anticolonial connections. As such the paper argues that nonviolence was more than a repertoire of resistance techniques, but a spatial mechanism which could fold scale, bridge distance, and thereby produce and reshape racial solidarity itself.
This article charts the trip made by civil rights leader Bayard Rustin to West Africa in 1952, and examines the unpublished ‘Africa Program’ which he subsequently presented to leading American pacifists. I situate Rustin’s writings within the burgeoning literature on black internationalism which, despite its clear geographical registers, geographers themselves have as yet made only a modest contribution towards. The article argues that within this literature there remains a tendency to romanticize cross-cultural connections in lieu of critically interrogating their basic, and often competing, claims. I argue that closer attention to the geographies of black internationalism, however, allows us to shape a more diverse and practiced sense of internationalist encounter and exchange. The article reconstructs the multiplicity of Rustin’s black internationalist geographies which drew eclectically from a range of Pan-African, American and pacifist traditions. Though each of these was profoundly racialized, they conceptualized race in distinctive ways and thereby had differing understandings of what constituted the international as a geographical arena. By blending these forms of internationalism Rustin was able to promote a particular model of civil rights which was characteristically internationalist in outlook, nonviolent in principle and institutional in composition; a model which in selective and uneven ways continues to shape our understanding of the period.
The historical record indicates that nonviolent campaigns have been more successful than armed campaigns in achieving ultimate goals in political struggles, even when used against similar opponents and in the face of repression. Nonviolent campaigns are more likely to win legitimacy, attract widespread domestic and international support, neutralize the opponent's security forces, and compel loyalty shifts among erstwhile opponent supporters than are armed campaigns, which enjoin the active support of a relatively small number of people, offer the opponent a justification for violent counterattacks, and are less likely to prompt loyalty shifts and defections. An original, aggregate data set of all known major nonviolent and violent resistance campaigns from 1900 to 2006 is used to test these claims. These dynamics are further explored in case studies of resistance campaigns in Southeast Asia that have featured periods of both violent and nonviolent resistance.
This full-length biography of Benjamin Mays (1894–1984) chronicles the life of the man Martin Luther King Jr. called his “spiritual and intellectual father.” Dean of the Howard University School of Religion, president of Morehouse College, and mentor to influential black leaders, Mays had a profound impact on the education of the leadership of the black church and of a generation of activists, policymakers, and educators. The author argues that Mays' ability to connect the message of Christianity to the responsibility to challenge injustice prepared the black church for its pivotal role in the civil rights movement. From Mays' humble origins in Epworth, South Carolina, through his doctoral education, his work with institutions such as the National Urban League, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, and the national Young Men's Christian Association movement, and his significant career in academia, the author creates a portrait of the man, the teacher, and the scholar. The book is a portrayal of one man's faith, thought, and mentorship in bringing American apartheid to an end.
This book examines a group of black Christian intellectuals and activists who looked abroad, even in other religious traditions, for ideas and practices that could transform American democracy. From the 1930s to the 1950s, this network of intellectuals and activists drew lessons from independence movements around the world for an American campaign that would be part of a global network of resistance to colonialism and white supremacy. This book argues that their religious perspectives and methods of moral reasoning developed theological blueprints for the later civil rights movement. The book analyzes groundbreaking work of individual intellectuals and activists and reveals collaborations among them, including Howard Thurman, Benjamin Mays, and William Stuart Nelson; pioneers of African American Christian nonviolence James Farmer, Pauli Murray, and Bayard Rustin; and YWCA leaders Juliette Derricotte and Sue Bailey Thurman. The book traces the ways these fertile intersections of worldwide resistance movements, American racial politics, and interreligious exchanges that crossed literal borders and disciplinary boundaries can enrich our understanding of the international roots of the civil rights movement and offer object lessons on the role of religion in justice movements.
By the early 1940s, activists in the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR), and pacifist interracial communities such as the Harlem Ashram trained thousands in the tactics of nonviolent direct action. They rejected the gradualism of racial liberalism and the sectarian politics of the Communist Party, calling instead for the immediate end of racial inequality and a socialist future. These activists adopted the methods of earlier utopian communities by living communally and practicing a prefigurative politics that called for immediate change. Most significantly, activists like Bayard Rustin and James Farmer taught nonviolent direct action in hundreds of workshops and race relations institutes. Participants brought these tactics into the streets as they engaged in major desegregation campaigns in northern and western cities. Largely overlooked in the historiography of the long civil rights movement, understanding the contributions of radical pacifists to civil rights campaigns outside the South adds a vital chapter to that history. And their eventual contributions to the southern mass movement helped launch the second Reconstruction in America.
It underplays the significance of James Kloppenberg's monumentally ambitious and massively learned Toward Democracy to call it a big book—though at seven hundred pages of text, a hundred pages of notes and another five hundred pages of additional endnotes online it is surely that. It is, in voice and subject, several books in one. The first is a sweeping narrative account of the struggles for self-rule in England, the United States, and France from the seventeenth century through the middle third of the nineteenth century. The great revolutions stand at this history's center—the Puritan Revolution of the 1640s, the British North Americans’ revolt against monarchy and their construction of an enduring kingless polity in the 1770s and 1780s, and the revolutionary upheaval in France in the years after 1789—their origins, struggles, and dramas etched with a skilled narrative historian's hand.
This essay illuminates the process by which the idea of pacifism—a notion rooted in the Quaker religious tradition—evolved into a legible political philosophy of nonviolence with broad appeal for activists in the Black freedom struggle. It does this by analyzing the “interracial and interchurch” workshops held in communities across the United States beginning in 1943. These workshops—borne from collaboration between the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR) and the March on Washington Movement (MOWM)—sparked an important moment of interracial collaboration, an intentional movement strategy designed to bolster local efforts to develop nonviolence into a political weapon used in cities across the United States to erode Jim Crow segregation. Within these nonviolent institutes, local movement activists engaged in a process of what social theorist Sean Chabot has called “collective learning.” Collective learning outcomes included increased clarification about the ideas that best motivated activists to take personal risks, which nonviolent tactics are most readily learned and practiced, and which sites might be most effectively targeted by nonviolent tactics. This paper concludes by suggesting that these nonviolent institutes were critical to harnessing the political potential as well as understanding the limitations of interracial nonviolent action in the struggle against Jim Crow segregation.
Upon This Rock: The Black Church, Nonviolence, and the Civil Rights Movement - Volume 33 Issue 2 - Allison Calhoun-Brown
Unconditional Equality examines Mahatma Gandhi’s critique of liberal ideas of freedom and equality and his own practice of a freedom and equality organized around religion. It reconceives satyagraha (passive resistance) as a politics that strives for the absolute equality of all beings. Liberal traditions usually affirm an abstract equality centered on some form of autonomy, the Kantian term for the everyday sovereignty that rational beings exercise by granting themselves universal law. But for Gandhi, such equality is an "equality of sword"-profoundly violent not only because it excludes those presumed to lack reason (such as animals or the colonized) but also because those included lose the power to love (which requires the surrender of autonomy or, more broadly, sovereignty). Gandhi professes instead a politics organized around dharma, or religion. For him, there can be "no politics without religion." This religion involves self-surrender, a freely offered surrender of autonomy and everyday sovereignty. For Gandhi, the "religion that stays in all religions" is satyagraha-the agraha (insistence) on or of satya (being or truth). Ajay Skaria argues that, conceptually, satyagraha insists on equality without exception of all humans, animals, and things. This cannot be understood in terms of sovereignty: it must be an equality of the minor. © 2016 by the Regents of the University of Minnesota. All rights reserved.
One of the most influential leaders in the civil rights movement, Robert Parris Moses was essential in making Mississippi a central battleground state in the fight for voting rights. As a leader of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), Moses presented himself as a mere facilitator of grassroots activism rather than a charismatic figure like Martin Luther King Jr. His self-effacing demeanor and his success, especially in steering the events that led to the volatile 1964 Freedom Summer and the formation of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, paradoxically gave him a reputation of nearly heroic proportions. Examining the dilemmas of a leader who worked to cultivate local leadership, historian Laura Visser-Maessen explores the intellectual underpinnings of Moses’s strategy, its achievements, and its struggles. This new biography recasts Moses as an effective, hands-on organizer, safeguarding his ideals while leading from behind the scenes. By returning Moses to his rightful place among the foremost leaders of the movement, Visser-Maessen testifies to Moses’s revolutionary approach to grassroots leadership and the power of the individual in generating social change.
The non-violent protests of civil rights activists and anti-nuclear campaigners during the 1960s helped to redefine Western politics. But where did they come from? Sean Scalmer uncovers their history in an earlier generation's intense struggles to understand and emulate the activities of Mahatma Gandhi. He shows how Gandhi's non-violent protests were the subject of widespread discussion and debate in the USA and UK for several decades. Though at first misrepresented by Western newspapers, they were patiently described and clarified by a devoted group of cosmopolitan advocates. Small groups of Westerners experimented with Gandhian techniques in virtual anonymity and then, on the cusp of the 1960s, brought these methods to a wider audience. The swelling protests of later years increasingly abandoned the spirit of non-violence, and the central significance of Gandhi and his supporters has therefore been forgotten. This book recovers this tradition, charts its transformation, and ponders its abiding significance.
In "Pilgrimage to Nonviolence" Martin Luther King, Jr., attributes his intellectual development to his reading of Marx, Gandhi, Rauschenbusch, Niebuhr, and other prestigious authors whose works he encountered during his graduate studies at seminary and at Boston University. To explain his responses to notable philosophers and theologians, King incorporates passages from seven writers whose names do not appear in the essay. While the network represented by these writers stimulated King's thought more profoundly than did the more respectable tradition that "Pilgrimage" invokes, the black church supplied him with the foundation of virtually all the ideas appearing in the essay. In addition, the black folk pulpit furnished the epistemology of voice merging that enabled King to compose an autobiographical essay and a self. Yoking black orality and print, King adapted the folk procedure of blending identities to create a magisterial public persona that could help reshape a nation.
Although pacifism and nonviolence bear a close relationship to one another historically, pacifism is the ideological assertion that war and violence should be rejected in political and personal life, whereas nonviolence refers to a distinct set of political practices. Unlike other modern ideologies such as liberalism and socialism, pacifism has never gained widespread acceptance among a significant portion of humanity and seems to remain a minority position among most of the peoples of the world. Even among those who use nonviolent techniques, the conventional wisdom that physical violence is necessary under certain circumstances often prevails. However, a growing body of empirical evidence shows that the methods of nonviolence are more likely to succeed than methods of violence across a wide variety of circumstances and that more people are using nonviolence around the world. At the same time, both the effectiveness of military and material superiority in achieving political ends and the incidence of warfare and violence appear to be waning. In a remarkable example of convergence between empirical social science and political theory, explanations for the effectiveness of nonviolence relative to violence point to a people-centered understanding of power. This research can provide a basis for a reinvigorated and pragmatic brand of pacifism that refocuses the attention of political scientists on the organization, actions, and loyalties of people as opposed to technologies of domination and destruction.
American intellectual history in the future will be embodied, embedded, and extended. Building on a sturdy foundation of past practices, intellectual historians will consolidate the advances of the last half-century and continue to study ideas articulated in multiple registers, by multiple historical actors, for multiple purposes.
Against enormous odds, non-violent action proved to be a major factor in the downfall of apartheid in South Africa, and the establishment of a democratic black majority government, despite predictions that the transition could come only through a violent revolutionary cataclysm. This was largely the result of conditions working against a successful armed overthrow of the system, combined with the ability of the anti-apartheid opposition to take advantage of the system's economic dependence on a cooperative black labour force. This article traces the history of nonviolent resistance to apartheid, its initial failures, and the return in the 1980s to a largely non-violent strategy which, together with international sanctions, forced the government to negotiate a peaceful transfer to majority rule.
While it is widely acknowledged that Martin Luther King’s notion of the “Beloved Community” owes the origin of its name to Josiah Royce, what has not been noticed in the literature on the subject is the depth of the connection between King’s and Royce’s conception of such a community. Indeed, there seems to be relatively little literature that even mentions Royce in connection with King. It is my intention in this paper to explore those “Roycean Roots” of King’s conception of the Beloved Community and to press the thesis that those roots go far deeper than has been commonly, or appropriately, acknowledged. However, this is not an argument I can ever hope to “prove,” even within the traditional limits of proof that one finds in historical scholarship. King’s style of writing—which was tuned much more to the spoken word, and a spoken word which was intended for a nonacademic audience with other than scholastic concerns—does not lend itself to that sort of detailed, academically well-founded scholarship of the author’s original ideas and sources. Rather, everything I can present here ultimately amounts to no more than a plausibility argument. My hope, however, is that the plausibility will become so overwhelming, as the details of the similarities are brought out, that in the absence of any evidence to the contrary the claim for the depth of the connection may be accepted as reasonably well established.
Now, as I stated above, there are a few direct mentions of Royce in the literature on King. But with one notable exception, these are always brief and in a variety of ways unsatisfactory. Thus, for example, in John Ansbro’s justifiably well-regarded intellectual biography of Martin Luther King, the connection between Royce and King’s notion of the Beloved Community is given only a single paragraph’s mention, and that in a footnote (Ansbro 319n152). Ira Zepp makes mention of Royce both in the context of King’s personalism as well as the Beloved Community. But these comments are again cursory and in general less than favorable. For example, Zepp sees Royce as taking a position that is at least somewhat antithetical to King’s personalism. Zepp says that “community for Hegel (and to a great extent for his American disciple, Josiah Royce) did not allow for the individuality of the person. His uniqueness denied, he was absorbed into the all” (Zepp 205–6). Zepp acknowledges Royce as the source of the term “Beloved Community” but then goes on to add that “Due to his own (Royce’s) idealistic, Hegelian orientation, Royce’s Beloved Community is more of a rational construct than King’s more historical and biblical conception” (Zepp 209). As will hopefully become apparent later on in this paper, neither of these claims can be taken as adequately characterizing Royce’s thought on the subject.1
More recently, Rufus Burrow, Jr., has treated the historical question of whether King actually read Royce in more detail (see Burrow, esp. 161+). It is good that Burrow has restored Royce’s name to its proper place in the narrative about the history of a concept as important as the Beloved Community. Burrow exhausts the direct evidence in his discussion and concludes that we can be fairly certain that one or more of the following is probably true: (1) King read Royce directly when dealing with a list of recommended readings for a course he took from his eventual dissertation director, L. Harold De-Wolf (see Ansbro 18, 38+); (2) King saw the idea discussed in E. S. Bright-man’s book Religious Values, which was assigned for a course King took from Brightman in 1951; (3) King heard the idea widely discussed both in seminary at Crozer and at Boston University and knew it to be Royce’s concept; (4) the idea was reinforced and interpreted in the context of the black church by Howard Thurman in ways that clearly appeared later in King’s writing. At the same time, ideas such as those which Brightman articulated in his The Moral Laws (see the appendix) had enormous influence on King’s thought. So it is...
Among the innumerable warriors against legalized racial segregation and discrimination in American society, the iconic Martin Luther King, Jr. emerged as a principal spokesman and symbol of the black freedom struggle. The many marches that he led and the crucial acts of civil disobedience that he spurred during the 1950s and 1960s established him and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference as rallying points for civil rights activities in several areas in the American South. King's charisma among African Americans drew from his sermonic rhetoric and its resonance with black audiences. Brad R. Braxton, a scholar of homiletics, observed that King as a black preacher “made the kinds of interpretive moves that historically have been associated with African American Christianity and preaching.” Braxton adds that “for King Scripture was a storybook whose value resided not so much in the historical reconstruction or accuracy of the story in the text, but rather in the evocative images, in the persuasive, encouraging anecdotes of the audacious overcoming of opposition, and in its principles about the sacredness of the human person.” Hence, King's use of this hermeneutical technique with scriptural texts validated him as a spokesman for African Americans. On a spectrum stretching from unlettered slave exhorters in the nineteenth century to sophisticated pulpiteers in the twentieth century, King stood as a quintessential black preacher, prophet, and jeremiad “speaking truth to power” and bringing deliverance to the disinherited.
American pacifists first heard of Mohandas Gandhi and his struggles in South Africa and India after World War I. Although they admired his opposition to violence, they were ambivalent about non-violent resistance as a method of social change. As heirs to the Social Gospel, they feared that boycotts and civil disobedience lacked the spirit of love and goodwill that made social redemption possible. Moreover, American pacifists viewed Gandhi through their own cultural lens, a view that was often distorted by Orientalist ideas about Asia and Asians. It was only in the 1930s, when Reinhold Niebuhr and other Christian realists charged that pacifism was impotent in the face of social injustice, that they began to reassess Gandhian nonviolence. By the 1940s, they were using nonviolent direct action to protest racial discrimination and segregation, violations of civil liberties, and the nuclear arms race.
Stretcher-Bearer of Empire; citation_author=Desai, Ashwin; citation_author=Vahed, Goolam
- South African
- Gandhi
Global Perspectives; citation_author=Ganguly, Debjani; citation_author=Docker
- Nonviolent Gandhi
- Relationality
Also see Judith Butler, The Force of Nonviolence: The Ethical in the Political
- Mark Kurlansky
Mark Kurlansky, Nonviolence: Twenty-Five Lessons from the History of a Dangerous Idea (New York,
2006). Also see Judith Butler, The Force of Nonviolence: The Ethical in the Political (New York and
London, 2000);
This Is an Uprising: How Nonviolent Revolt Is Shaping the Twenty-First Century
- Mark Engler
- Paul Engler
Mark Engler and Paul Engler, This Is an Uprising: How Nonviolent Revolt Is Shaping
the Twenty-First Century (New York, 2016);
The Nonviolence Handbook: A Guide for Practical Action
- Michael N Nagler
Michael N. Nagler, The Nonviolence Handbook: A Guide for Practical Action (Oakland, 2014);
A Force More Powerful: A Century of Nonviolent Conflict
- Peter Ackerman
- Jack Duvall
Peter Ackerman and Jack Duvall, A Force More Powerful:
A Century of Nonviolent Conflict (New York, 2000).
Choudhry for sharing incisive comments on an early draft of this article. Finally, I would like to thank all those who have written on the history of nonviolence and of the civil rights movement. I wish I could have cited more of that extensive scholarship
- Jahan Dasgupta
Dasgupta and Jahan Choudhry for sharing incisive comments on an early draft of this article. Finally, I
would like to thank all those who have written on the history of nonviolence and of the civil rights movement. I wish I could have cited more of that extensive scholarship. If only notes were not included in word
counts!
49
Box 28, Lawson Papers. 50 "Methods of Nonviolence
- Gene Sharp
- James Lawson
Gene Sharp to James Lawson, 19 Sept. 1950, "Baldwin-Wallace-Correspondence
-Incoming-September 1950," Box 28, Lawson Papers.
50
"Methods of Nonviolence," "Book Draft-Chapter V," Box 45, Lawson Papers;
A Dangerous Idea: Nonviolence as Tactic and Philosophy. Modern Intellectual History 1-25
- Daniel T Rodgers
Daniel T. Rodgers,
"The Commitments of Democracy," Modern Intellectual History 16/2 (2019), 595.
Cite this article: Slate N (2020). A Dangerous Idea: Nonviolence as Tactic and Philosophy. Modern
Intellectual History 1-25. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1479244320000207