Resistance is not a democratic option

In Palestine, and most starkly today in Gaza, the very act of resistance has become subject to scrutiny more intense than the occupation it confronts. The people living under siege, bombardment, and military control are judged not by the justice of their cause, but by the decorum of their defiance. In an age where principles are confused and moral compasses falter, resistance is increasingly treated as if it were a government policy, and the resister judged as though they were the criminals. Expectations are heaped upon them that are never demanded of the occupier. This isn’t just politically absurd, it’s a moral inversion.

At its heart, resistance is not a democratic choice. It doesn’t follow electoral cycles or await the results of public opinion polls. Those who resist occupation do not ask whether their defiance is “appropriate” or “palatable”. That question itself reflects a deep ethical confusion — one that equates a subjugated people with the very power that oppresses them.

The resister does not need authorisation. They do not seek permission from the oppressed to defend them. Resistance is not an office one is appointed to, it is an instinct, an act of dignity that arises when all else is stripped away. Even if an entire people were to surrender, a solitary voice raised in defiance still carries moral weight. History has shown us time and again that it takes just one cry for justice to rupture the silence of oppression.

Liberation has never been won by petitions or carefully phrased condemnations. Algerians did not wait for national consensus before rising up against French colonial rule. The Vietnamese didn’t call roundtable meetings before confronting US military occupation. The Irish Republican movement didn’t wait for a parliamentary majority before asserting their people’s right to sovereignty. These liberation struggles — and many more — understood that freedom is not handed over at negotiating tables.

Today, however, we’re witnessing a bizarre expectation — a kind of political luxury — where the freedom fighter is asked to present detailed reports: risk assessments, cost-benefit analyses, diplomatic forecasts. While the occupier demolishes homes, buries families beneath rubble, and flattens schools and hospitals, it is the resister who is expected to account for every outcome.

They are told to “exercise restraint”, “proceed cautiously”, and “act like a statesman” — even though they have no state to govern, no sovereign land to defend, not even a sliver of territory free from siege. It is fair to hope that resistance is carried out with care and compassion. But to place the moral burden of occupation on the shoulders of the occupied is both unjust and intellectually dishonest.

What, then, is the alternative? Are the oppressed expected to wait politely for the mercy of their oppressors? To hold peace conferences while their children are being killed? To conduct elections beneath the gaze of foreign rifles, just to see if their resistance is “popular enough”? Must they poll their support base while the bombs are falling?

These absurdities may make sense in stable, democratic societies. But under military occupation and apartheid, the rules simply don’t apply.

At times, when the condemnation of resistance grows loudest, it’s hard not to sense that some would rather see no resistance at all — simply to avoid the discomfort of having to justify or explain it. Humanitarian language is then weaponised not to engage with the injustice, but to sidestep it.

We want resistance without struggle, struggle without sacrifice, and liberation without cost. But that’s the stuff of fairy tales, not history.

Resistance, by its nature, carries a price. Every true liberation movement has paid dearly. This doesn’t mean glorifying pain or romanticising war. It means recognising that fighting a brutal occupation is not a fair contest — it is a fight for survival. Demanding that the freedom fighter behave like a diplomat or a head of state is to fundamentally misunderstand the reality of colonialism.

This is not a plea to render resistance above reproach. But it is a call to recover moral clarity. Occupation is the root injustice. Everything that follows stems from that crime. To shift blame onto the resister while giving the occupier a pass is to turn justice on its head.

Every occupied people have the right to chart its own course towards freedom — to stumble, to learn, to err, and to grow. But no one has the right to strip them of their right to resist, under the guise of democratic values or political pragmatism.

This is because freedom is not awarded by majority vote; it is reclaimed, often by the few against impossible odds.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.