Kathy Kelly is constantly on the frontlines. Whether in her Chicago neighborhood, where she lives in a tight-knit community, or in the Middle East, Kelly is determined to document firsthand the plight of people whose countries have been torn apart by war. As founder of the Nobel prize–nominated anti-war group Voices for Creative Nonviolence—and before that Voices in the Wilderness—Kelly travels extensively to war-torn countries to see the effects of US foreign policy in order to better tell the stories of those who suffer from it. Though her actions have resulted in numerous arrests and heinous government fines, nothing seems to stop her.

I caught up with Kelly at her home in Chicago this fall, before she left on a trip to Pakistan. [She is currently with a delegation in Afghanistan]. The packed house, with both residents and strangers coming and going, was emblematic of the activist’s constantly bustling world. In our conversation, she discussed her influences, the ever-changing neighborhood in which she lives and its impact on her, surviving prison life, and the meaning of tax refusal.

James M. Russell: What kindled your activism?
Kathy Kelly: I was an impressionable child and I can think of two things that impressed me the most. When I was a child, hands down, it was the nuns. Most of the ones assigned to my South Side Chicago parish were young and cheerful; we didn’t have mean nuns that were wrapping our knuckles. The ones I grew up with shared everything in common and lived a simple life. There wasn’t a question in my mind that I would become one of them. And then things changed radically. Then everything changed in the Catholic Church and nuns were living independently and driving cars.

Watching the film “Night and Fog” in high school, about the remains of the Nazi death camps, was a very transformative moment for me. Seeing it evoked a sense of never ever being a passive bystander … but nevertheless, I went through the Vietnam War like Brigadoon in the mist. I never got involved in the anti-war activism at that point in my life. Later in life, what changed me was coming up to the soup kitchen in this neighborhood and realizing that there was tremendous poverty in my city. I think that when people are directly in touch with impoverishment, there’s a conversion that almost has to happen.

JMR: How have you continued to change?
KK: I didn’t grow up with a very strong sense of personal courage. But in my adult life because of very wonderful mentors and some situations that kind of demanded the jump, I now understand it: that courage is the ability to control your fears. So in evolving, I’ve been able to identify some fears and learn about controlling them so that I wouldn’t be governed by it. And that was mainly though watching people who I admired very much and realizing, “well I would rather have what they’ve achieved in their lives.” And I learned that they had achieved by governing life through their values.

So there’s that and there’s also the joy of dropping out of consumer culture. I haven’t dropped out completely, but in the ways I have, I’m very happy. There’s just a lot of time that gets consumed in consuming and owning. If you don’t have to do it, there’s a certain sense of release.

JMR: Why did you decide to become a war-tax refuser?
KK: When it dawned on me that my neighbors didn’t have food, that the youngsters would be remarkable if they made it though their teenage years, and that people in my neighborhood were sleeping in abandoned buildings. There’s no way I was going to go to a teaching job and spend much of my teaching day trying to teach youngsters about opposition, radical opposition to nuclear weaponry and then take a third of my income and then pay for nuclear weapons and the rest of it. It wasn’t even a question once I realized, and I thought “Of course! What a relief! I don’t have to pay those taxes.” I never will pay those taxes and since the day that I first made that determination, there hasn’t been a doubt in my mind. I will never pay federal income tax.

JMR: Do you identify not just as a war-tax refuser but as someone who ultimately exists to refuse, or in better terms, resist the oppressive systems under which we live?
KK: I do not want to be too speculative but refusal affects one’s personality. I can say when I went to maximum-security prison for one year I didn’t refuse to work. I worked. I got fired from just about every job I had until I ended up picking up cigarette butts in the middle of the prison. I somehow emerged from that situation with a little more backbone in terms of readiness to refuse, almost with a kind of an edge to it. You know, the edge that would say, “Are you gonna make me?” I don’t want that to be my approach so I get opportunities to work on that when I’m in public settings and people disagree with me. I think that’s one opportunity to really try to reach out a friendly hand. And also when we get hate mail to try and answer it in a respectful way without, you know, communicating that you’re buckling. So it’s a skill, maybe almost an art form to learn how to engage in refusal and resistance without creating enmity… or deepening enmity.

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One of the most encouraging aspects of running this site is seeing the sheer amount of information coming in every day about nonviolence. It’s often-times too much to process, at least quickly. Such was the case with an inspiring book that came out in October called Small Acts of Resistance. But with reviews still popping up even a couple weeks ago, I figured it’s not too late to add one of my own.

Written by seasoned social activists Steve Crawshaw and John Jackson—who now work for Amnesty International and MTV, respectively—Small Acts of Resistance is a breezy, but exciting tribute to the activist spirit. The book chronicles 90 stories from around the world—focusing mainly on the past few decades—of ordinary people taking bold, creative and often-times humorous action to defy and ultimately reverse injustice.

The authors attempt to categorize these stories into an eclectic mix of chapters, jumping from sports to censorship to eventually the end of the Cold War and the rise of digital activism. But with no real consistency to the categories, the book is mainly a loose amalgamation of short stories. As the Financial Times noted its review: “Each is only a few pages or less, sometimes leaving a sense that rough but potentially significant corners have been rubbed off.”

Rather than see this as a shortcoming, however, I think the simplification of these stories makes for a highly accessible and much-needed introduction to the field of civil resistance. It would be a great jumping-off point for beginners, providing a natural path to more in-depth discussions of both nonviolent strategies and principles.

But thankfully Small Acts is more than just a fun read for newcomers. It also packs a few surprises for those who have tried to consume as much of the literature that’s out there. For instance, did you know the word boycott comes from Captain Charles Boycott, a 19th-century tyrannical land agent in Ireland, whose servants walked out on him? Even though the action sounds more like a “strike”, I was happy to grab this nugget of information.

There are other surprisingly fresh stories, such as the one about football fans in Uruguay, who during the military dictatorship mumbled the national anthem until it came to the line, “May tyrants tremble!” Or, there’s the one about Nepalese journalists who avoided harsh censorship rules by presenting the news as entertainment and having a comedian sing it.

If these aren’t new to you, then there are bound to be others that are. That’s what’s so inspiring about this subject: there are more stories exhibiting the power of nonviolent resistance than any one person can possibly know. And that’s okay. One person doesn’t need to know all the stories. But everyone should know at least a few. Maybe Small Acts of Resistance will help in that endeavor.

• Environmentalists in Armenia gathered outside the new dolphinarium in Yerevan’s Komitas Park on Friday to protest the cruelty of keeping dolphins in confined spaces, as well as subjecting them to unsuitable winter temperatures.

• A few thousand people gathered in Moscow on Sunday to protest ethnic violence and to call on the authorities to refrain from crackdowns that would curtail Moscow’s diversity.

• Nine French activists were arrested on Sunday during a pro-Palestinian demonstration at a major Israeli checkpoint in the West Bank.

• Hundreds of villagers in Cambodia’s Kampong Speu province staged a sit-in on Friday to prevent the clearance of land they say is being grabbed illegally by tycoon and ruling party senator Ly Yong Phat.

• Hundreds of Israelis and African migrants marched down Tel Aviv’s main boulevard Friday to protest a government plan to build a detention facility to hold those who enter the country illegally.

• A group of New Jersey animal rights demonstrators showed their disdain for slaughterhouses yesterday by protesting outside a live poultry market on Bergenline Avenue in West New York.

As promised, Waging Nonviolence editor Eric Stoner is spending his Christmas in Kabul. Part of what he put under the tree for those of us back home is an op-ed in his hometown paper, the Peoria Journal Star. It’s another reminder, from close-up, that the continued military occupation of Afghanistan is untenable. He also points toward alternatives:

Unfortunately, violence is only one of many threats faced by the Afghan people. The country is plagued by corruption of the elite, too often fueled by U.S. money, and desperate poverty for nearly everyone else. As a westerner, you can’t walk more than a block or two on Kabul’s dusty streets without being approached by a small child begging for money. Tragically, one quarter of these Afghan children won’t make it to their fifth birthday; life expectancy for those who do survive is an abominable 44 years.

If the Obama administration is truly concerned with rooting out the Taliban and undermining terrorism, it must rethink its goals in Afghanistan and dramatically change gears. Rather than pointing to an ever-higher Taliban body count as a sign of success, the U.S. should stop backing the warlords that currently dominate the Afghan government, remove our troops from the country, and redirect the money currently being dumped on the war to meet the basic needs of everyday Afghans — food, clean water, education, jobs and access to decent health care. Only when the people of Afghanistan have a functioning, democratic government and real hope for a better life will the lure of the Taliban and extremism fade.

Consider contributing to help support Eric’s important trip.

Back in 1969, I voyaged into New York City at Christmas time—not to see the tree in Rockefeller Center, or midnight mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, or even to shop. I went to Times Square to see John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s billboard: “War Is Over! If You Want It.”

I stood on the sidewalk and my eyes teared up. I loved John Lennon and was touched by the words “if you want it.”

This will be the first Christmas since that day that I will not hear John and Yoko’s “Happy Xmas” on the radio, drifting from unsuspecting places into our subconscious psyches. But I hear the words, the chorus, the anthem.

While I have grown up too cynical to believe it is over if I want it to be, I have been profoundly moved by the witness of too many to know that I can’t wait for someone else to declare war over. I must do my part, which is why I wish I could go to Washington D.C. on January 11 with Witness Against Torture and participate in a 12 day fast and period of sustained action to remind us all that 170 men remain imprisoned in Guantanamo.

I have been traveling to D.C. for these actions since Witness Against Torture began mounting them in 2006 and a community of friends has been built up around this action. I shall miss it and my friends next month, but at Christmas, I give thanks for the joyous gift of Witness Against Torture’s presence in front of the White House, Department of Justice, and halls of Congress and Senate in years past. Wherever they can be this January to remind us that men and women languish unjustly around the world, the spirit of John and Yoko’s message will be seen in action.

Bud Courtney is currently serving on a Christian Peacemaker Team in Iraq.

In today’s marketplace, as more and more people conduct their business online, some methods of protest traditionally open to the public are becoming less and less of an option. If an online retailer, for instance, engages in action or holds a position some of us feel compelled to oppose, many times there’s no central location to converge upon in order to publicly register our disapproval.

As business evolves in the digital age, forms of protest need to evolve as well, running the full gamut from consciousness-raising efforts and boycotts to nonviolent subversion, intervention, and civil disobedience. Thanks to the recent campaign by the hacktivist group Anonymous, the website-blocking technique known as distributed denial-of-service (DDoS) has once again been thrust into the mainstream, opening itself to evaluation and potential adoption by a growing community of online activists.

The campaign was aimed at the websites of PayPal, MasterCard, Visa, and Amazon.com, some of which were temporarily rendered inaccessible through servers being flooded with more requests than they were able to handle. That this was a form of protest is undeniable, as the group was explicit about it being in response to those companies bowing to US pressure and severing ties to WikiLeaks. Whether or not it should be considered civil disobedience, however, has been a subject of much debate, and for good reason. With government and business colluding to co-opt the Internet as a neutral forum for free speech, conscientious citizens everywhere must be prepared to react.

One of the most powerful ways we can do so is through the time-tested method of civil disobedience. It’s fitting, of course, that protesting for Internet freedom take place online. Oftentimes, in nonviolence theory, the more related the method of protest to that which is being protested, the better. In addition, when the issues at stake have such global implications, it only makes sense to select a form of protest in which people around the world can participate.

Of utmost importance, however, when attempting to rally public opinion, is that a clear distinction be drawn between criminal and civil disobedience. By showing respect for the law even while breaking the law, it becomes difficult for an act of online defiance to either be brushed off as a prank or condemned as cyber-terrorism. If we examine the Anonymous campaign in this light, we should be able to see whether or not it represents a valid model for future action.

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In a recent TED talk, author Rachel Botsman argues that a major transition is occurring in Western society—one that is turning us away from hyper consumption and toward collaborative consumption. She says the advent of websites like Zipcar and Swap are changing the rules of human behavior and showing that people are increasingly more interested in access than ownership. They want the experience that a product fulfills rather than the product itself. This seems to be not only good news for the environment, but also further confirmation that humans are wired to share and collaborate. Technology is thankfully reminding us of that ability.

After serving more than 18 months in Ofer prison, Adeeb Abu Rahmah, a champion of nonviolent resistance, is a free man. Jerusalem-based activist Joseph Dana reports:

Before he had even reached the gate of Ofer military compound, Adeeb Abu Rahmah had his hands in the air in celebration. Abu Rahmah crossed the iron gate of the compound and walked into freedom after eighteen months in military prison. Despite the frigid mountain air, the warmth of Adeeb’s presence could be felt strongly by all present. He embraced his daughters immediately with tears in his eyes. With barely a moment to catch his breath, Adeeb kissed and hugged everyone that was present, occasionally throwing his hand high in the air with a peace sign and yelling out one of the many chants that are common on demonstration days in Bil’in.

As Adeeb Abu Rahmah greeted his loved ones on a windy night in the Ramallah hills, he led chants calling for national unity and for the release of his cousin, Abdallah Abu Rahmah.

Abdallah Abu Rahmah was taken from his home in the middle of the night on December 10, 2009 and has remained in prison since his arrest.  The initial charges against Abu Rahmah—stone throwing and arms possession—were dropped and he was later convicted of incitement and organizing demonstrations. Abu Rahmah’s conviction drew criticism from Amnesty International, B’tselem, Human Rights Watch, Desmond Tutu, Jimmy Carter, the Spanish Parliament, and the European Union.

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• Off-duty Jimmy Johns employees stood outside several locations omnMonday asking customers to sign “holiday cards” urging the franchise owners to agree to time-and-a-half pay for employees working Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve, as well as on national holidays.

• About 1000 protesters marched through Macau on Monday, marking the 11th anniversary of its handover to China by calling for affordable housing and universal suffrage in the world’s biggest gaming hub.

Azadi Park in Sulaymaniyah

I find myself in a rather strange situation. I am in the midst of approximately 300 people at a demonstration in the Northern Iraqi city of Sulaymaniyah.

Massoud Barzani, president of the Iraqi Kurdistan Region, had just signed the demonstration law, which parliament sent to him for approval. The law makes spontaneous demonstrations or assemblies illegal, requiring 72-hour notice for any gathering. Even then, it is still up to the authorities to grant the request. Organizers met at the end of last month, hoping to find ways to stop it from happening. But the bill was signed into law last week and so we took to the streets to demonstrate on Saturday.

It rained all morning, fatefully clearing up just as the “illegal” demonstration began. Participants stood in a large circle, as speakers huddled under banners and umbrellas spoke. Each speaker was followed by loud chanting: “Parliament: Azadi!” (Azadi means “freedom” in Kurdish.) The chanting became addictive and heartwarming in the cold, damp air about the city center in the heart of the bazaar district.

Not being able to speak or understand Kurdish, I felt a bit set back attending a freedom-of-speech demonstration. However, I have learned enough over the years about civil and human rights to know that when they begin to get taken away, one must speak up—even in a foreign language. So, I joined, and continue to join with my sisters and brothers in chanting “Azadi, Azadi!”

Mr. President and members of Parliament, please amend this law. Allow human beings the right to gather together to voice their opinions. The voice of the people is democracy. To stifle one’s ability to speak leads to tyranny.

Bud Courtney is currently serving on a Christian Peacemaker Team in Iraq.