I was exactly halfway between my accommodation and a local park when the air alarm sounded. I’d just bought lunch. I could go back – taking a seat in the hallway outside my room so as to be separated from the glass windows within. The two-walls rule. But now, thinking about it – I’d been going to the park, and in some ways if the missiles were to hit and I had a choice about it, I’d prefer to be outside amongst the Autumn trees and the fallen leaves, the birds and grass, than indoors with the piles of concrete rubble, broken wires and shattered glass. I opted for the outdoor option.

There is a little rotunda in the centre of Ivan Franko Park. It was here that I went to eat my lunch. I think there is something in the human psyche that seeks shelter, whatever kind, even in the outdoors. There was a man at the rotunda with a speaker that played gentle, uplifting music. He sang along quietly, nodding to the rhythms. There was a sense of being peaceful at what could be a time of heightened anxiety.  And a sense of resistance. Yes, the missiles and deadly drones might kill us, or poison gas asphyxiate us, but there was a sense of peacefulness in just being in the moment right here, right now.

Another day at the rotunda; another air alarm. Some local people turned up with buckets, brushes and scrapers. That day we cleaned and brushed the rotunda. It was a satisfying thing to do, scraping the grime off the concrete, and giving this old structure some love. Heritage preservation can happen anywhere, at anytime. Even during a war. We laughed and were at ease despite the tension. Each brush stroke of the grainy surface felt like an act of quiet defiance.

Thinking about these humble everyday activities at a time of conflict, I considered where else such acts of civilian humanity might be applied. The idea of little acts of resistance as a response to war – could there be something in it? I mean, if we all took up our speakers and our buckets, our brushes and scrapers and brooms, or whatever it was that we might prefer – our paint brushes and egg beaters, our garden lights or our golden retrievers, if we took our quiet things of everyday life and staged a resistance? I feel there is something in this approach that goes to the heart of an unjust war – the idea that love and simplicity are stronger than war and military advancement; that it is the quiet things of everyday life that eventually trump the growing shipments of weapons and arms.

Suppose that military spending by all nations was greatly reduced. Instead of scrabbling for stockpiles of ever-more deadly weapons and objects of destruction and deterrence, people of all countries took it upon themselves to be the non-violent civilian resistance. In light of today’s news, robust support for Ukraine is looking considerably less likely. It may not even be a case of negotiated settlements with all parties present. There can only be hope for an alternative, or parallel, pathway to peace. We can look to the past for successful examples of civilian resistance.

When it comes to historical precedents, some civilian movements represent a form of resistance towards occupation or injustice, and a desire for independence and freedom, rather than resistance to outright war. An early example of non-violent resistance to colonisation comes from Aotearoa, where Māori children and seated villagers of Parihaka greeted the marching troops. The U.S. Black Civil Rights movement of the 1960s and the actions of Rosa Parks, galvanised a movement leading to change. More recently, The Baltic Chain, or Way, of 1989 inspired similar independence and democracy movements across the world. In the same period, the Baltic state of Estonia was home to a singing revolution rooted in cultural traditions of song. 1989 was also a big year in China– the year of the student protests in Beijing, when tank man stood his ground in Tiananmen Square. Although stunning in his solitude, imagine what having the numbers to back up such a move could do.

What if, instead of trying the same old military responses to military operations, there was a courageous resolve to try something new. In the face of calls to conscript more soldiers, what if civilians went to the front? Yes, it would be dangerous; potentially deadly. That said, there is danger and risk in any option, including the options which have gained current acceptance. Many lives have been lost – and for what? The idea of a civilian resistance at the frontlines could be deemed hopelessly idealistic. Then again, it’s abundantly clear that doing the same things repeatedly and hoping for different results is costly, ineffective and really quite senseless. Some would argue a civilian resistance at scale is impractical. But, if it was possible to form a human chain stretching across three Baltic states in the days before the internet, then surely something on a similar scale must be possible today. A non-violent civilian resistance could be the new frontline.

What do you think? Is civilian resistance to conflict a possible solution?

Image & Title Credit: A.I.