Good Trouble and the Call for Escalation to Violence

What happens when "good trouble" no longer feels sufficient to confront the scale of injustice and authoritarianism we’re facing?

“Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”
— Congressman John Lewis

But what happens when good trouble isn’t enough? When democracy teeters and justice is silenced—not by apathy, but by force?

Let me be clear: I am not advocating for violence. But we need to confront the reality that more and more people—on both the left and the right—are beginning to see it as the only path forward in the face of growing political unrest and institutional collapse. In this moment, it’s not enough to dismiss those feelings or shy away from hard questions. Today, I want to explore the tension: the growing call for escalation, the risks it carries, and the power that still exists in disciplined, strategic nonviolence. And then I want to hear from you—what do you believe we should do next?

What is “Good Trouble”?

“Good trouble” is a moral imperative to challenge injustice—even when it’s inconvenient, disruptive, or uncomfortable. Coined by civil rights icon John Lewis, the phrase reclaims disruption as not just necessary, but righteous. It means defying systems of oppression through nonviolent resistance, civil disobedience, and direct action, guided by a deep commitment to justice and human dignity.

Good trouble isn't about chaos for its own sake. It’s about intentional, principled action that exposes injustice, demands change, and moves society forward—often at great personal risk.

Historically, “good trouble” lead to the Selma March, Sit Ins, and Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat on the bus. These acts of defiance galvanized the civil rights movement. These types of civil disobedience were also repeated during the ACT UP protests during the AIDS crisis. Activists disrupted government meetings and media events to demand life-saving action on AIDS. Their confrontational tactics led to policy changes and drug access. Good Trouble has also empowered many groups, like climate activists to block pipelines or stage die-ins, student walkouts to protest school shootings, and the Black Lives Matter protests after the deliberate public murder of George Floyd.

Even now, we are harnessing the power of protests to speak out against the corruption, fascism, and the dismantling of our democracy. But, even with all of the protests, people are beginning to question whether or not it’s working.

The Case for Non-Violent Resistance

Erica Chenoweth (political scientist, co-author of Why Civil Resistance Works) says, “Nonviolent campaigns are more than twice as likely to succeed as violent ones.” In their groundbreaking study of 323 uprisings from 1900–2006, Chenoweth and co-author Maria Stephan found that nonviolent campaigns succeeded 53% of the time, compared to 26% for violent ones. Gene Sharp (political scientist, father of modern nonviolent strategy) says, “Dictators are never as strong as they tell you they are. People are never as weak as they think they are.”— From Dictatorship to Democracy (1993), and outlined 198 methods of nonviolent action that have been used in revolutions from Serbia to Egypt.

From Martin Luther King Jr. to modern scholars like Erica Chenoweth and Gene Sharp, the power of nonviolent protest has been well documented. “Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon,” King declared, showing how peaceful resistance in Selma and Birmingham forced the nation to confront the brutality of segregation. Decades later, Chenoweth’s research confirmed what many already believed: nonviolent movements are statistically more successful than violent ones—especially when they can mobilize mass participation. Even Barack Obama, responding to the 2020 protests after George Floyd’s murder, noted that “the protest tradition has been the lifeblood of our democracy.” These voices remind us that civil disobedience is not weakness—it is strategy. It is courage. And historically, it works.

Why Are More People Considering Violence as a Means of Change?

As democratic institutions buckle under corruption, inequality, and repression, some people are considering turning toward violence—not out of malice, but out of desperation. When peaceful protests are ignored, courts are stacked, and police respond to civil disobedience with militarized force, nonviolence can begin to feel inadequate. The rise of authoritarianism, the failures of reform, and the sheer urgency of today’s crises—from climate catastrophe to civil rights rollbacks—are pushing some activists and citizens to question whether peaceful tactics can still protect their futures. Add to this the radicalizing influence of online echo chambers and centuries of revolutionary mythology, and the appeal of violence—once unthinkable—starts to creep into the mainstream.

Here are some of the reasons people are considering:

• Disillusionment with Institutions
  Peaceful protest, voting, and advocacy feel increasingly ineffective to many. When elected leaders ignore public will, courts are politically stacked, and lobbying drowns out citizen voices, nonviolent methods begin to feel futile.

• The Rise of Authoritarianism
  With democratic backsliding on the rise—through voter suppression, anti-protest laws, and executive overreach—some believe that time has run out for incremental change. When the system feels rigged, urgency replaces patience.

• State-Sanctioned Violence
  When peaceful demonstrators are met with tear gas, rubber bullets, or police batons—as seen during the George Floyd protests and during the most recent ICE raid protests—it creates a brutal double standard: the state may use force with impunity, but civilians are expected to remain passive. That hypocrisy breeds rage.

• Historical Precedent
  From the American Revolution to anti-colonial uprisings, U.S. history and global liberation struggles often frame violence as justified in the face of tyranny. Some see today’s political climate through that same lens, questioning why modern resistance should be any different.

• Radicalization and Online Echo Chambers
  Extremist ideologies thrive in algorithm-driven spaces. Online forums, fringe media, and social platforms amplify messages that glorify violence and position it as the only "real" path to freedom or justice.

• Psychological Desperation
  For many, especially those whose rights, livelihoods, or identities are under direct threat, hope is running out. When people are pushed to the brink—whether by poverty, discrimination, or repression—violence can begin to feel like a last resort, not a choice.

There’s a growing belief among some activists that the Civil Rights Movement wasn’t truly peaceful—or at least, that it wasn’t effective until violence erupted. They point to events like the Watts Rebellion, the uprisings in Detroit, and the unrest following Dr. King’s assassination as the real pressure points that “forced” the system to act. But that interpretation distorts the timeline and risks erasing the strategic genius of nonviolent resistance. Major victories like the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were not the result of riots—they were earned through years of organized, disciplined action: boycotts, sit-ins, voter registration drives, and televised marches that exposed the savage violence of white supremacy to the world. Yes, violence occurred—but it was overwhelmingly inflicted upon peaceful protesters by police, white mobs, and state actors. That contrast—the dignity of nonviolent resistance against the brutality of state-sanctioned force—is what shifted public opinion, shamed lawmakers into action, and moved the moral arc of the nation. To suggest that progress only came when cities burned ignores the deeper truth: it wasn’t chaos that changed America—it was the courage and sacrifice of people who showed up, again and again, without weapons, and demanded to be seen.

And yet, even with this history and evidence in hand, it’s easy to understand why some are losing faith in nonviolence. The slow, grinding pace of reform feels excruciating in the face of what can only be described as the collapse of democratic norms and basic human rights. When laws are rewritten to erase communities, when courts are weaponized, and when political violence is already being threatened—often, now, openly—by those in power, the appeal of quicker, more forceful resistance grows. People are not wrong to feel urgency. They are not wrong to feel rage. But before embracing escalation as the only remaining option, we must remember the power already proven in our hands. Gene Sharp offered 198 ways to disrupt injustice without mimicking its brutality. Erica Chenoweth showed us that these methods don’t just work—they often work better. Nonviolence is not passivity. It is confrontation with discipline. It is resistance with strategy. And at its best, it invites a mass movement—not just the brave few—to reclaim power and demand change.

The Power of “Shame!” in Action

In recent days across California, communities have confronted ICE agents, National Guard troops, and even Marines—not with force, but with a simple, pointed chant: “Shame! Shame! Shame!” In San Diego, locals surrounded ICE during a restaurant raid, and their unified chorus drove the agents away: “Shame! Shame! Shame!” they chanted until the ICE vehicles retreated Reddit+2Reddit+2Reddit+2Reddit+6Newsweek+6Global News+6. One Reddit user praised the tactic:

“I think ‘shame’ chanting should be our motto for resistance … It’s short and effective.” It needs to be the National call to action.

Similar scenes played out in Los Angeles, where crowds halted National Guard forces and federal agents with “Shame on you!”—a moral rebuke that visibly shook authorities. This chant isn’t symbolic fluff. By branding these powerful forces as agents of blind compliance and state repression, the crowd disrupted them psychologically and publicly, undercutting their authority. It forced a reckoning in the media, altered public perception, and provided a nonviolent way to assert that these agents are not above accountability. (I write more about this in my Substack article, On This Memorial Day: We Still need Heroes.)

What’s more, it’s effective. Reports show that ICE and Guard units became visibly uncomfortable, hesitated, and in some cases withdrew—demonstrating that moral pressure alone, when wielded by a united community, can shift the balance of power. Nonviolent, vocal community resistance doesn’t just protest injustice—it inherits the moral high ground, changes the story, and compels action.

The path forward is not easy, but it is powerful. It is brave. And it is still ours to choose.

So we keep going. We organize. We disrupt. We march, speak out, and show up—even when it’s hard, even when it feels like no one’s listening. We make good trouble. Because the goal has never been to match the cruelty of those in power—it’s to render that cruelty ungovernable. To build something stronger in its place. Change won’t come all at once, and it won’t come easy. But it will come—if we refuse to give up the fight. If we keep choosing courage over fear. Strategy over chaos. Community over collapse.

The moment is dark. But we are not powerless. We never have been.

Let’s make the kind of trouble that moves history forward.

What is your path forward?

Escalating to violence may feel justified—perhaps even inevitable—when the world feels like it’s coming apart. But we must be honest about what that path leads to. History shows us that violence, even when born from righteous anger, often invites more violence in return. It narrows the movement, alienates potential allies, and gives the powerful an excuse to crack down harder. It risks replacing one form of oppression with another, not dismantling the system, but recreating it with new rulers. Violence doesn’t build—it consumes.

We must also understand the moment we’re in. The government—especially under rising authoritarian influence—is already laying the groundwork to escalate. They are looking for a spark to justify a crackdown: to increase surveillance, to even further militarize public spaces, to declare emergencies, even to flirt with martial law. They want protest to become a pretext. They want rage to look like chaos. Just days ago, an immigrant man was shot and killed after he reportedly fired an assault rifle at a Border Patrol facility in Texas. We may never know what brought him to that moment, but we know how the state will use it: as justification to tighten its grip, not loosen its injustice. We cannot become the excuse they’re waiting for. We cannot give them permission to silence dissent by confirming their worst narrative.

That doesn’t mean we stay quiet. It doesn’t mean we wait politely. Nonviolence is not the absence of conflict—it’s the refusal to abandon our humanity in the fight for justice. It’s resistance through community organizing, mutual aid, strategic disruption, and relentless pressure on systems of power. It’s using our voices, our bodies, our votes, our resources, and our networks to undermine injustice at every level.

Disruption Without Destruction: Tools for Everyday “Good Trouble”

Nonviolence isn’t limited to the streets. Marches and chants are vital, but resistance also lives in the choices we make every day—in how we work, spend, speak, and show up for one another. If you're feeling the urge to do something, but protest isn't possible or enough, here are other powerful ways to disrupt injustice and stay rooted in nonviolent action:

Malicious Compliance
Use the rules against those in power by following them exactly as written. When unjust systems rely on blind obedience, hyper-compliance can slow them down or expose their flaws. Think of the worker who enforces a harmful policy to the letter, forcing leadership to see its impracticality. It's protest in plain sight—legal, subversive, and smart.

Refusing to Normalize Injustice
Silence is complicity. Speak up in everyday spaces: in classrooms, at work, at dinner tables. When someone shrugs off book bans, authoritarian policies, or bigotry with a “both sides” argument, push back with facts and clarity. You don’t need to shout—just refuse to pretend this is normal.

Economic Resistance
Money is power. Redirect yours. Boycott companies funding harmful policies. Cancel services tied to oppressive systems. Support mutual aid, local businesses, and community funds instead of large institutions. Even small economic choices, when multiplied, can shift influence and disrupt power. And it’s already working.

Mutual Aid and Skill-Sharing (This is so important!)
Build the world you want now—don’t wait for permission. Offer rides, food, housing, childcare, tech support, legal help. Teach civic literacy, protest safety, or know-your-rights workshops. These acts of care are radical—they reduce dependence on systems designed to exclude and punish.

Art and Storytelling
Culture shapes consciousness. Use it. Whether you're painting murals, writing essays, performing poetry, or creating protest music, storytelling disrupts dominant narratives. It moves hearts, opens eyes, and makes the abstract personal. Don’t underestimate the quiet revolution of art.

Whistleblowing and Exposure
If you're inside an institution and witness abuse of power—speak out. Leak documents. Share data. Tell the truth. Transparency can force change faster than silence ever will. Be wise, but be brave.

Strategic Noncooperation
Power requires participation. Sometimes the most radical act is to withdraw it. Call in sick. Refuse to volunteer for harmful programs. Walk out. Disengage from performative DEI panels or task forces that change nothing. Noncooperation says: not in my name.

Mass Strikes and No-Work Days (We Need This NOW!)
A coordinated pause can send shockwaves. National or sector-wide strikes, "Days Without Us," and work stoppages have long been used to show how deeply society depends on the very people it tries to silence. From the 2006 immigrant rights strike to international women's walkouts, withholding labor—paid or unpaid—can be a potent, unignorable act of resistance.
No work. No business as usual. Just truth, solidarity, and disruption.

This is the fight of our time—not just for policy or power, but for the soul of who we are and who we’re willing to become. We don’t win it by becoming what we hate. We win it by refusing to surrender our principles, even when everything in us aches for speed and vengeance. Good trouble was never about being polite. It was about being unflinching. It was about stepping into the storm with clarity, with discipline, and with others at your side. So let’s disrupt. Let’s resist. Let’s organize with purpose and rage with care. And when history asks what we did when it all was on the line, let the answer be: We made good trouble—and we never stopped.