Everyday Dissidence

Breaking Free from the Trance of Tyranny

Do you keep a list of books that are so compelling you can file them under Read-in-One-Sitting?

HOW TO BE A DISSIDENT by Gal Beckerman is a recent addition to my own list of books I couldn’t put down. The book is described as a manual for living with integrity in an age of conformity and authoritarian drift. Just my cup of tea!

With writing that’s both inspiring and accessible, Beckerman could almost brand himself as “a life coach for aspiring dissidents.” But then again, the notion of branding would be so counter to the nonconformist nature of book that he would have to reject that idea outright.

Beckerman poses one essential question to her readers: How should one behave in the face of tyranny and existential threat? Her answer isn’t singular, but multiple and vast. It turns out there are countless ways to stick to the man. The book explores the lives of dissidents across a wide swath of human history —people as different as Etty Hillesum and Ai WeiWei. Each chapter breaks down and illuminates one essential trait of these different dissidents. Some were intentionally reckless, others meticulous and vigilant. Some possessed unbreakable loyalty, still others made most of their solitude. Some were brainy, some brave, and some intensely inward.

Untitled, Mixed media, 18 x 24

Despite stylistic differences, all the dissidents seem to share one common trait. They refuse to conform to the immoral system they found themselves trapped within. Beckerman writes that the spirit of dissidence emerges when the system forces us to make a choice: play the game and abandon yourself or refuse to abandon yourself and pay the price. A dissident refuses to play along with the dominant culture no matter the price because they can’t live with themselves otherwise. The author suggests that this fundamental refusal is the substance from which a meaningful life might be forged.

The book left me with the sense that dissidence is primarily an orientation of spirit that has infinite expressions. It’s variable by nature. You don’t need to chain yourself to a weapons factory or shut down the construction of an AI data center in your community to be a dissident. (Although that would be amazing! You should totally do it if you feel called!)

The enslaved women who made quilts in Gees Bend, Alabama engaged in a kind of creative dissidence. Anne Frank’s detailed diary of life in occupied Amsterdam was a dissident act, as was Thoreau’s refusal to pay taxes to fund a war he didn’t believe in. The cookbook Nawal El Saadawi penned in an Iranian prison was dissident in nature. And Ai WeiWei became a dissident when he dropped an ancient Chinese urn on the pavement on purpose.

Through its many shapes and forms, dissidence shakes off the trance of conformity that has forced us to collude with powers that are not acting in our best interest. Dissidence is a strategy that brings us into right relationship with ourselves by de-centering prevailing norms and placing value on justice, intellectual freedom, creativity, pleasure, and a rich inner life.

When I finished Beckerman’s book, I had the sense that we all have more access and onramps to dissident acts than we let ourselves believe. And that maybe we can make use of the notion of dissidence to keep our spirits in tact at this time of great fracture. How can simple acts of dissidence be a bridge between the world we now inhabit and the one we wish to create?

I came up with a little catalog of everyday acts of dissidence to cultivate more meaning and purpose in our lives. But then I decided against sharing it. The list was too prescriptive. And more prescriptions are not the point. The point is to be true to ourselves, to not ghost ourselves every other minute through endless distractions. To stay with ourselves no matter the strength of the storm, or pull of the trance. To claim our right to walk as slow as we like under the unbelievable trees here on this earth where we’re all meant to be, not racing off to some faraway planet with no air or water. The point is to recover our right to feel and think for ourselves, and to be able to say it out loud and when it really matters. The point is to read real books, and to watch old films, and to ask ourselves the hard questions and to not be afraid of the answers.

To allow ourselves enough space for beauty, despite the current ugliness. To not leave ourselves, even though they’ve set the world on fire. To know that we can still grow berries in our backyards and have lavender tea with our friends and dance our little dance in the living room.

All love,

Julie