Violent Resistance: On Necessity and Morality

Rebecca SE Tan

25 December 2022

Introduction

Violent resistance characterises our news today – from Iran to Hong Kong to Bolivia and Chile – protestors across the globe have turned to violent means to fight against the authority of their government (Thaler, 2019). By violence, I refer not only to physical violence against people, but also that against objects (functionally or symbolically), or that which targets the psyche or culture of the state (Nayar, 2013, pp. 70). While much has been argued about the practicality of using violence, I argue instead about the very legitimacy of doing so – i.e, violent resistance need not necessarily be successful to be justified. I contend that some instances of violent resistance are in fact justifiable: where necessary when the state fails its social contract, for the purposes of recovering one’s sense of self and the moral advancement of humanity as a whole. However, even under these stringent criteria, violence must not be an end in itself, but rather the focus of protestors needs to centre on a well-defined purpose.

Addressing the failure of the state

There must exist strong, foundational reasons for any form of resistance, and even more so for that of violent ones. Crucially, resistance is legitimate insofar as the state has broken its social contract, as it is argued by Locke to be the safeguard against tyranny (Locke, 1690/1997). Tyranny is defined in two ways – first, when the ruler exercises their own interests rather than the general good (“not for the good of those, who are under it, but for his own private separate Advantage”) (Ashcraft, 1994, pp. 228). And second, when the ruler overextends his power and influence (“exceeds the Power given him by the Law”) (Ashcraft, 1994, pp. 228). In these cases, the ruler has broken the established limits of the law and the government is hence no longer consensual or constitutional. These failings legitimises resistance – the ruler “ceases in that to be a Magistrate, and acting without Authority, may be opposed, as any other Man, who by force invades the Right of another" (Locke, 1690/1997, pp. 418–419). What then are some examples of state failure?

One example is the violence experienced during colonialism. Fanon writes, “the government’s agent uses a language of pure violence… and brings violence into the homes and minds of the colonised subject” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 4). Colonial violence is three-fold (Nayar, 2013, pp.70): first, it is violence against the body, by “physically limiting the space of the Colonized” (Fanon, 1963, pp.6) and creating a “compartmentalized world” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 5). Think, for example, of the demarcation of “black” and “white” towns in the apartheid regime in South Africa (Nayar, 2013). Second, colonialism is violence against the psyche of the colonised (Nayar, 2013, pp.70): hierarchy is implied through racialised identities, which “becomes the foundation for all colonial relations” (Nayar, 2013, pp. 74). A black man, for example, is “simply treated as a black body, and is trained to be ashamed of it” (Nayar, 2013, pp. 81). He becomes nothing more or less than the color of his skin (Nayar, 2013, pp. 75). Lastly, colonialism is violence against the culture of the colonised. “The customs of the colonized, their traditions, their myths… are the very mark of… indigence and innate depravity” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 7). The mandate of French in Vietnamese schools, for example, can be said to have slowly replaced shared local culture with particular rules of interaction. With time, the colonised faces “cultural trauma”, losing touch with himself as he tries to adopt that of his master (Nayar, 2013, pp. 81). This threefold violence of the state is dehumanising – it reduces the colonised “to the state of an animal” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 7), essentialising them as “black, brown and yellow hordes” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 8).

Beyond colonialism, I argue that resistance is also legitimate when the state fails to uphold one’s safety and security. Even before tyranny, a Hobbesian necessity is one’s right to self-defence – without upholding this contract for security, the state ceases to be one and can therefore be resisted (Steinberger, 2002, pp. 858-859). One example is the plight of the Rohingya in Myanmar today. Under the rule of the military junta, more than 740,000 Rohingya have been displaced, with thousands killed or raped (Amnesty International, 2019). These Rohingya are denied jobs, services, education, and even basic human rights – their extreme condition hence sets the foundation for resistance.

However, the violence of the state is not justification enough – how do we go from justifying resistance to violent resistance? After all, there are plenty of violent states – even Gandhi, renowned champion for non-violent resistance, speaks of the bureaucratic violence of states, eliminating moral reasoning through impersonal rulings, with individuals reduced to numbers and paperwork (Parekh, 1989, pp. 111-112). As such, we need to take one step further: not just that states have failed in their social contract, but that violence is the only means, or that which is necessary to reinstate what was lost.

In the case of anti-colonialism, where the colonised is excluded from the political process, “the underprivileged and starving peasant… discovers that only violence pays” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 23). Excluded from the political mechanisms, there is no way for say, a black South African in the apartheid system to register their discontent (Nayar, 2013, pp. 85). Fanon writes, “colonialism is not… a body endowed with reason. It is naked violence and only gives in when confronted with greater violence.” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 23). Here, it is again important to stress that violence need not necessarily constitute that against humans. With colonialism being a mechanism for economic benefits, other forms of anti-colonial violence include buildings and infrastructure: “the sabotage of bridges, the destruction of farms, repression and war can severely disrupt the economy” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 24).

Similarly for the Rohingya, their dissent is drowned out by the state and Buddhist monks (symbols of religious authority) in traditional and social media (Bakali & Wasty, 2020). They are also excluded from the political process through a denial of Myanmar citizenship (Bakali & Wasty, 2020). Perhaps, it can be argued that their situation may pave the ground for which violence simply becomes an expression of necessity.

Recover one’s sense of self

Beyond the desideratum of fighting fire with fire and responding in the same language that perpetrators understand, violence, in the right situations, may also restore morality. Targeted at the culture and the psyche of the perpetrator, violence can be a “cleansing force” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 51), through which agency is returned to the victim. Fanon writes, “[Violence] rids the colonized of their inferiority complex, of their passive and despairing attitude. It emboldens them, and restores their self-confidence (Fanon, 1963, pp. 51).

However, a moral counterargument is the idea that resistance needs to be non-violent for one to get back in touch with their moral reasoning. Violence against a violent state, as critiques argue, would be equally illegitimate because it simply repeats oppressive authority. One example is great political ethicist Mahatma Gandhi, who stressed that resistance should “place man at the centre and help him recover and develop his moral and social powers currently surrendered to the state” (Parekh, 1989, pp. 113). He demonstrated his position through his use of satyagrahas, a non-violent “Force” which rests upon a bedrock of Truth (“satya”).

What, however, does it mean to place man at the center? Can violence be a tool for man to recover one’s social powers? While violence should be avoided wherever it could, I argue simply for the possibility of its restorative effect. Under colonialism, sufferers are labelled as “a kind of quintessence of evil” (Fanon, 1963, pp.6), and even begin to question their own identity (Fanon, 1963). Violence may break free this notion – the colonised begins to “discover that his life, his breathing, and his heartbeats are the same as the colonist’s” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 10) – and may hence be the preliminary for a new humanism. The use of violence by the Algerians, for example, was cathartic in restoring the “Self” that was systematically destroyed in colonialism (Nayar, 2013, pp. 84), recreating themselves through the “erasure of the colonial intellectual legacy” (Nayar, 2013, pp. 93).

The same argument could perhaps be made for other injustices like that of the Rohingya. The current narrative by the state is an attack on their very “Self” - that they are not part of taingyintha[1], that their darker skin does not belong in Myanmar, that they are actually Bangladeshi, and that they should be ashamed of being Muslim (Azad & Jasmin, 2013). While violence may not be the answer, particularly with many other practical considerations involved, I contend that the moral judgement on violence is not as straightforward as opponents insist.

[1] Roughly translated to a state’s definition of “national races”.

Further, just as Gandhi argued that Satyagraha could create a “feeling of collective solidarity” (Parekh, 1989, pp. 116), recovering one’s identity through violence may equally help to “build a new social order” (Nayar, 2013, pp.84). Fanon writes, “a war of liberation… introduces the notion of common cause, national destiny, and collective history into every consciousness. Consequently… nation building is facilitated by the existence of this mortar kneaded with blood and rage.” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 51). Hence, violence may facilitate the construction of a sense of community, belonging and shared culture, before which denied by colonialism.

Lastly, the moral claim against violent resistance seems to focus on a more individualised or localised perspective. Yet, violent resistance may be a means for larger moral goals of humanity, which will be expounded on in the following section.

Moral Advancement of Humanity

In certain cases, violent resistance may work to bring about universal moral advancement. Revolutions, often (though not necessarily) violent affairs, may be justified as working towards “moral progress for the species, if not for individual human beings”, and “[bringing] out the centrality of collective agency in moving towards universal moral goals” (Ypi, 2014). Philosophers like Kant and Marx may hence endorse revolutions if “the ends of revolutionaries [are] oriented by the interests of humanity as a whole” (Ypi, 2014). By extension, the use of controlled violence in these revolutions may also be legitimised.

One example is the notoriously bloody French revolution. Despite Kant’s seeming rejection of revolutions in his prior political writings, he was a fervent supporter of the French revolution and strongly defends it in writings such as “The Conflict of the Faculties” (Ypi, 2014). He insisted that “all the horrors that took place in France were nothing compared to those that people had suffered under a despotic regime, and that the Jacobins were probably right in all their actions.” (Droz, 1949; as cited in Ypi, 2014). Thereby violence in revolution, which leads to the “establishment of rightful political relations” and “contribute to humanity’s moral emancipation” is justifiable (Ypi, 2014). After all, the revolution resulted in the creation of “The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen”, which can be seen as advancing universal human rights and hence furthering the moral development of the human race. As such, the question of legitimacy cannot be seen in isolation with respect to individuals but should also consider the potential of universal social advancement.

Focus on Aims, not the Violence

That said, even with all the aforementioned reasons, there is much caution to be had on the use of violence. It is, perhaps, so easy for violence to go overboard. Fanon writes: “the militant who faces the colonialist war machine with the bare minimum of arms realizes that while he is breaking down colonial oppression, he is building up yet another system of exploitation. This discovery is unpleasant, bitter, and sickening: and yet everything seemed so simple before” (Fanon, 1963, pp. 145).

To prevent such gratuitous use of violence, Fanon suggests that acts need to be focused on a clear vision and plan (Fanon, 1963). Without which, perpetrators will find themselves slipping into reproducing the same oppressive power relations, with the only change being the parties involved. How then will such a segregated group create a new national identity? Indeed, Fanon stresses that all revolutionaries have to be involved in formulating this new reality, to pave the foundation for a coherent and sustainable state (Fanon, 1963). Such a consideration does not only apply to anti-colonialism but should also be extended to all other militias as well – focusing on the cause rather than to feed one’s desire for revenge or harm. Only then can the physical and human costs of violence, both to the attacked and the attacker, be justified (Fanon, 1963).

Conclusion

While much scholarship already debates on the practicality of using violence in resistance (see: Chenoweth & Stephan, 2011; Enos et al., 2019), I argue instead of its normative value. Under a very specific set of criteria, violence may be justified: where it is absolutely necessary, where it can regenerate one’s sense of self, and where it may further the moral advancement of humanity. However, even where violence starts off right, much deliberate effort needs to be taken to keep the resistance on course: focused intently on creating a better future for all.

References

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