Reflective instructions to be a dissident

How to Be a Dissident, by the American journalist Gal Beckerman (1976), is an essay in the form of an instruction manual on a subject—a concept, a vital stance, an attitude towards power—that, from the outset, is not at all easy to define and delimit. What exactly are we talking about when we talk about dissent, about dissidents? From the moment that a dissident is as much a Christian believer who during the Middle Ages broke with the Roman Catholic hierarchy as a German worker who refused to let himself be swept away by Hitlerian euphoria or a Russian writer who wrote poems denouncing the atrocities of Stalin, we will conclude that dissent is a matter that has more to do with attitude and behavior than with ideology and that it unfolds more in the field of pre-politics than properly in that of politics.

In the introduction to his book, Beckerman says he likes the etymological definition of the term: “dissident” comes from the Latin dissidens, which means “to sit apart”. The dissident is, therefore, someone who, for whatever reason, does not bow down to prevailing hegemonies and does not meekly obey what they are told they must be, think, and do. It is also someone who does not let themselves be assimilated by the imperative dictates of hegemonies and who lives according to an order of priorities in which acceptance by the community is less important than satisfaction with oneself.

Feeling unhappy with reality

I said for whatever reason. Sure? Not quite. A billionaire who operates outside the laws and norms that govern everything and everyone because greed and a sense of impunity and superiority drive him would not, in any case, be a dissident. Beckerman explains this well in his book. To be a dissident, you must be one with intention, you must be aware that you are one. Dissent is not the result of a visceral impulse, nor an occasional outburst, nor a maneuver to protect one's own privileges and selfishness, but rather it is a negotiation with yourself – with your conscience and your principles – and with reality because the reality in question seems unfair to you or displeases you.

One of the first examples that appear in the book is that of the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam, who, when interrogated in the dungeons of the Lubyanka, instead of lying or making up excuses, said that he had written a poem against Stalin because he hated the totalitarianism he represented. Beckerman's point here goes to the heart of the matter: the dissident is not only someone who stands up to power, risking their own well-being, freedom, and even their life, but someone who does so consciously, assuming it, making it explicit, turning their gesture into a call to action, into an affirmation that invites others to follow their example. In any case, Beckerman knows that dissent is not “inherently virtuous,” and that while it can be a driver for change in favor of freedom and pluralism –the abolitionists in the 19th-century US, Havel in communist Czechoslovakia, Navalny in Putinist Russia–, it can also be an act of individualistic self-promotion –this was somewhat the case with Thoreau– or a strategy in favor of the most reactionary traditionalism, as would be the case of the Amish in Pennsylvania.

The substance of How to Be a Dissident is that of an essay: it offers a flexible, open, and inquisitive overview, both historical and contemporary, on a vast and complex subject; it proposes a reflective discourse enriched by general ideas and concrete anecdotes... As the title indicates, however, it also has something of a manual (because Beckerman writes from the certainty that dissent may not be inherently virtuous, but it is necessary). It is no coincidence, in this sense, that the titles of the ten chapters are imperatives, the ten commandments of dissent: be alone, be pessimistic (and funny, rational, reckless, faithful, presumptuous, human, and immortal), stay vigilant... Although some reflections seem forced to me and some general conclusions do not convince me entirely, Beckerman's book has the merit of making it clear that the dissident is not the free man but the man who wants to be free and who, therefore, dares to go his own way. This applies to Spinoza and Camus, but also to so many anonymous men and women who did not let themselves be broken by fear, conformity, or tyranny, whose erased memory currently sustains the weight of all that is good in the world.