198 ways to challenge a dictator

Intro, Layal: Hello everyone and welcome to the Nonviolence Now Podcast, brought to you by Pace e Bene, where we explore the principles of nonviolence, where it all started, and how it shows up in today’s digital world.

Layal: Hey everyone—and welcome back to The Nonviolence Now Podcast! It’s Layal Beyhum here with you today, a Lebanese activist, political scientist, and your one and only host for our third exciting episode. Today, we’re unpacking the Arab Spring—that massive wave of protests that shook Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, Libya, Syria and beyond.

Now if you’re thinking, “Tear gas, toppled statues, end of story,” hold up! We’re debunking myths around nonviolent action and taking a page out of Gene Sharp’s playbook—yes, the guy who mapped out 198 ways to peacefully challenge dictators. Expect a quick ride through military defections, union strikes, women & youth leadership, citizen journalism gone viral, and how the diaspora kept the momentum alive—even from abroad.

By the end, you’ll see how these tactics often packed more punch than a row of tanks. Ready to find out how everyday people flipped the script on fear? Let’s dive in.

Warming up with Myth #1:

•  “Authoritarian systems never break from the inside.”

•  “The military always follows orders.”

•  “Government officials are just puppets of the regime.”

Sounds logical, right? If you’re a dictator, the military and top government officials should be your most loyal enforcers—your last line of defense. But here’s the thing: even in the most brutal regimes, cracks form. And when soldiers, pilots, or high-ranking officials refuse to comply, that’s when the real problems start.

Now before you say anything, I need you to hear me out. This isn’t just speculation—Gene Sharp mapped this out decades ago. We’re gonna start off with two of the methods to debunk this myth.

Method #117: Selective Refusal of Orders. We can rephrase that by giving an example of when soldiers start saying, “No, we’re not doing that.” And Method #121: General Mutiny. It’s like when entire units or officials start breaking ranks. And guess what? We saw both during the Arab Spring. Now, Let’s go back to the streets, to the moment when authoritarian fear machines started malfunctioning.

We’re in Tunisia, end of 2010, early 2011, where we started to see the first cracks in the system. Ben Ali, president at the time, assumed that his security forces would suppress protests with brutal force—because, basically, that’s what dictators do. But then, something happened.

Some Tunisian security forces refused to fire on protesters. So instead of crushing the movement, this hesitation emboldened more citizens to hit the streets, and within weeks, the president fled the country.

That moment proved a crucial lesson: when fear collapses, dictators follow.

Now let’s move onto Egypt’s Tahrir Square in 2011, where we witnessed an episode of an army setback. Egypt’s Mubarak wanted his military to shut down protests at Tahrir Square—fast. But here’s the problem: Most of these soldiers weren’t elite troops—they were actually young conscripts. They looked into the crowd and saw people they knew—which included their neighbors, friends, former classmates. And when the order came to “disperse by any means necessary,” most of them hesitated. The second the military didn’t follow through with a brutal crackdown, the energy in Tahrir exploded. Protesters sensed a shift in power, and soon after, Mubarak was forced out.

Now something really cool happened in Libya in 2011, where we witnessed an episode of fighter pilots choosing to defect over bombing their own civilians. Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi expected total obedience. But even in his own ranks, loyalty had its limits. Two Libyan Air Force pilots were ordered to bomb protesters in Benghazi. Instead of following orders, they flew their jets straight to Malta and defected. That wasn’t just an act of personal conscience—it was a huge signal to other military officers:

• “You don’t have to go down with the regime.”

•  “If you refuse orders, you won’t be alone.”

And soon, defections spread across the Libyan military.

As bold, loud, and feisty as the Libyan fighters were, there were also examples of silent acts of defiance. And we’re gonna look into Syria’s 2011, during its early stages in Daraa, Homs, and Damascus. Assad expected his forces to crush them immediately. But something happened: Some soldiers refused to shoot unarmed civilians. Others deliberately missed their shots—which is what I call a silent protest. And a few even leaked information to activists, exposing state brutality to the world, and this we will be touching on in a while. These weren’t mass desertions—not yet. But they planted the first seeds of military dissent, which would later grow into full-on defections.

Let’s be clear on one thing: It’s not just soldiers. When high-ranking government officials start quitting, that’s a flashing neon sign: “This regime is in trouble.”

In 2011, Yemeni government officials resign under pressure. The protests that began with students in Sana’a University grew into a national movement. And suddenly, people inside the system started to say, “Uh-oh, this ship is sinking.” Top military commanders, members of parliament, and key government officials stepped down in solidarity with the people. The more resignations happened, the weaker the regime looked. It’s like your boss throwing up their hands mid-shift, saying, “Peace, I’m out,” leaving the CEO (which in Yemen’s case is the dictator) scrambling to keep things running.

In 2011 in Tunisia we also saw the domino effect. When the protests hit full force, Ben Ali’s cabinet members started resigning—some in moral protest, and others out of self-preservation. And to the protesters, this is a win-win, because every high-profile resignation made the regime look weaker. And this wasn’t just about the streets—it was happening inside the government itself. The result? Ben Ali had absolutely no choice but to flee.

Also in 2011, Libya’s diplomats defect, left Gaddafi isolated. Gaddafi’s ambassador to the UN? Quit. Ambassadors from France, India, Indonesia? Resigned. Suddenly, the regime was losing its voice on the global stage. And as a dictator, once the people who speak on your behalf stop defending you, your power is in freefall.

We need to acknowledge the fact that a dictator’s greatest weapon does not solely depend on tanks or secret police, as much as the obedience of those who enforce their rule.

✅ Fear stops working when soldiers refuse to enforce it.

✅ Defections create a ripple effect—if one unit disobeys, others start questioning their orders.

✅ And It emboldens civilians—when they see cracks in the military, they realize the regime isn’t invincible.

And history proves it:

•  Tunisia’s military hesitation gave protesters momentum.

•  Egypt’s army stepping back helped bring down Mubarak.

•  Libya’s pilot defection sent a message that even Gaddafi’s air force wasn’t entirely loyal.

•  And Yemen’s officials resigning weakened the regime from the inside.

Onto our next myth: “Strikes & Sit-Ins? Just Traffic Jams, No Real Influence” Myth two says that protests are “meh,” just messing with morning commutes. Actually, they can starve an authoritarian system of daily functioning. Another Gene Sharp concept is large-scale noncooperation—like strikes or student sit-ins. Strikes are like the peaceful version of pulling the plug on daily life. Economies freeze, leaders freak out, and the protest becomes impossible to ignore. Sure, you still might need political negotiations or, in some cases, rebel activity on another front—but noncooperation is the massive headache that any dictator hates to deal with.

Here are some key examples:

The Tunisian General Labour Union carried out widespread strikes, swiftly weakening Ben Ali’s power.

Students in Yemen’s Sana’a University basically camped on campus, 24/7, chanting “We won’t leave until the president steps down.” Talk about turning a college quad into a revolution HQ. Government meltdown led to plenty of resignations, as we previously mentioned.

Although not part of the initial 2011 Arab Spring wave, Lebanese protests later showcased how professional syndicates and youth uniting under one banner can apply massive social pressure. We blocked roads, we formed human chains (which you can see on YouTube), and eventually, the prime minister resigned. I got two words for you: Civil pressure.

Think of it like if all your baristas and subway drivers decided “Okay, we’re not showing up.” The city would collectively scream. Noncooperation is no joke—peaceful but potent. For a dictator, strikes are the silent killer: no confrontation, but everything grinds to a halt. It’s like cutting off oxygen.

Here’s a more personally frustrating and touchy topic: “Women & Youth? Just Props in the Background.” Myth three: “Women and young people do the chanting and sign-making, but real leadership is older men.” Yeah, that’s a big, fat nope.

In Egypt, women in Tahrir Square tackled Mubarak’s regime plus rampant harassment with the #Metoo movement—I call that a double revolution.

Tawakkol Karman in Yemen had been organizing protests long before the big headlines, and she got herself a Nobel Peace Prize and proved that Yemeni women can and lead from the front.

In Libya, women formed crucial humanitarian and organizing committees—even in deeply patriarchal contexts, they said, “We got this.”

Syrian young activists and female organizers initially led peaceful demonstrations, and highly documented human right abuses and violations on smartphones long before the conflict escalated into a full-fledged war.

Here comes Myth #4, “Everything’s propaganda, so citizen journalism is pointless.” Actually, phone cameras and social media were the Arab Spring’s superweapon. No talk about the Arab Spring is complete without alternative media—the smartphone footage, online campaigns, and creative documentation that shattered state-run TV monopolies. And it’s what we really, fully rely on nowadays.

This is to say that the Arab Spring was a turning point for digital activism and alternative media. When mainstream outlets hesitated, citizen journalists, bloggers, and viral videos filled the gap, which proved that information could bypass traditional gatekeepers. Fast forward to today, that shift has only deepened—with 52% of U.S. TikTok users now relying on the platform for their news. What started as a shaky phone footage in Tahrir Square has evolved into a global media revolution, where anyone with a smartphone can shape the narrative.

This emerged in Tunisia, with videos of early protests going globally, which were initially posted on Facebook groups and YouTube channels, which quickly inspired Egyptians and the rest.

In Egypt, we had a political prisoner who managed to smuggle his writings of what it’s like to be a prisoner under Egyptian authoritarian rule. These documents were posted online by an alternative media platform and became viral, leading international governments to pressure the Egyptian government to let him free. He was set free, saw exile, and today is a very, very vocal human rights defender for Egyptian political prisoners rights and their release in Egypt.

Looking at Syria, I’d like to start off with the documentary called For Sama, which won global awards, which was recorded by Waad Al-Khatib, who was a journalism student at the time who initially just wanted to film the early stages of the protest. She ended up recording the day-to-day-struggles of civil society members, her friends, her family’s lives being torn apart, during the Syrian civil war. And this documentary was dedicated for her daughter, who’s called Sama—which literally translates to “sky”—as a diary of in case she couldn’t make it, she or her father, this documentary would be a living testament of all they tried to do to give her and all the Syrians a free life.

We have the infamous Caesar Files, which are called this way to protect the military photographer who leaked the thousands of torture images that were taken from the Sednaya Prison, which is known today to be Syria’s most brutal torture prison cells.

We had Omar al Shogre come to Paris two years ago, who exhibited the Caesar files for the first time to the public eye. I was very fortunate to attend that. Omar al Shogre was a Sednaya prisoner detainee himself, and he was explaining to us the different torture methods that the Assad regime would commit on these people, on the detainees. And there was one phrase he said which stuck with me til this day. When we first looked at these pictures, before he started to describe or explain anything, he looked at us and said, “I need you to remember and keep in mind that these are real human beings who died under Assad.”

Now, what is the importance of such methods and why do they work? We need to keep in mind that armed rebels may take territory, but citizen journalists win hearts abroad. Once the diaspora sees horrifying footage, or even people from around the world, they lobby for sanctions, humanitarian aid, or even direct intervention. Having a synergy—in the sense that you have rebels on the ground and at the same time you have global condemnation—turns the tide for a dictator’s downfall. And as a cue, we can witness today Syria’s liberation.

Now we know Assad’s regime collapsed. But was that purely a “People Power” show? Of course not—armed rebels fought tooth and nail. But the difference is, they didn’t fight in a vacuum. There was consistent international pressure, partly driven by diaspora activism and media revelations (like, for example, the Caesar photos). So while the final blow was military, the stage was already set by nonviolent moral condemnation that made it much easier for the world to say, “We’re officially done with the Assad regime.”

I want to share with you a personal anecdote. Let me give you a snapshot: I’m in Paris, and I go to this tiny comedy club. We have Lebanese and Syrian stand-up comedians that were on stage just a few days after the Assad regime was toppled, and they were roasting the Assad family like it’s an open buffet of jokes. Just a few days before that, you’d be locked up for even a meme mocking him or his regime. Now? It’s a full-on comedic roast. The crowd—which consisted of refugees, exiles, students, random Parisians—we were all cackling. It felt surreal, but so empowering at the same time.

And that, my friends, is the intangible victory of nonviolent activism and diaspora pressure. Armies can topple you physically, but global mockery? That’s how you topple fear psychologically. When the once-untouchable tyrant becomes a punchline, you know the game has changed.

So, is everything sunshine and democracy? Yeah… no. Revolutions are messy. They don’t wrap up with a bow, and they don’t always follow the Hollywood script where the dictator falls, and the people live happily ever after.

But here’s the real key takeaway: the Arab Spring was never just about one moment of overthrowing regimes. It’s about challenging the myth that these leaders were once untouchable. Whether it was armed uprisings or mass protests, the region’s psyche changed.

Let’s break it down a bit:

In Tunisia, it was the poster child for successful transition—until creeping authoritarianism started rolling back gains. But unions and civil society are still fighting til this day, which proves that people aren’t going back to silence.

In Egypt, yes, Mubarak’s gone, but a military-led system took his place. It’s not Tahrir Square energy every day, but digital dissent is alive, and the state knows people and the world are watching.

Yemen & Libya are both dealing with internal conflicts and outside meddling, but even in war, pockets of nonviolent activism persist—be it from women leading peace negotiations or local activists demanding accountability.

As for Syria, well, as we mentioned Assad is out. Rebel forces played a huge role, yes, but again, let’s not forget the citizen-journalists, diaspora activists, and leaked footage that kept global eyes on Syria and eroded Assad’s legitimacy. And now? A massive rebuilding project begins, and the diaspora is returning with new energy. There is hope, definitely, but also a million challenges ahead.

Giving a brief case on Lebanon, since I’m highly involved there—just recently, after years of political deadlock, Lebanon elected a new president, and former ICJ Judge Nawaf Salam was appointed to form a cabinet as the new Prime Minister. Now if this works, it could be such a game-changing moment in our politics.

And that brings us to one final myth—one we have to bust before we close this out: Myth 5, You hear it all the time: “What’s the point of protesting? Even if a dictator falls, another one just replaces them.”

And yeah, some regimes do find a way to repackage old power in a new face. But do you think that means nothing changed? Then you weren’t paying attention to what happened on the ground. Because revolutions don’t just change leaders—they change the way people resist, organize, and see their own power.

Let’s take Lebanon in 2019. This wasn’t just protests; it was community-building in real time:

• WhatsApp groups and Instagram pages kept people updated about roadblocks, police crackdowns, and detainees.

• The minute someone got arrested, thousands of people knew, lawyers were called, and pressure mounted.

• In Martyrs’ Square in Beirut, professors from AUB and USJ set up tents, held political and economic discussions right there, turning a protest into a public university.

• And then there was the food. Mothers showing up with massive pots of home-cooked meals, local bakeries giving out free sandwiches—businesses didn’t just support, they nourished the revolution.

• And this wasn’t just Lebanon. Tunisia, Sudan, Egypt, Syria—everywhere, new networks formed.

This is where Gene Sharp’s ideas come full circle. He didn’t just map out how to topple a regime. He showed how people sustain resistance beyond the initial uprising.

So no—not all revolutions “end the same.” Some fade, some stall, but some leave behind new ways of thinking, organizing, and mobilizing.

Because here’s the thing: once you’ve stood side by side with strangers in the street, once you’ve fought for a cause together, once you’ve seen professors hold class in a protest tent or under a tree, you can’t unlearn that solidarity.

To wrap things up, why does this still matter? So, here’s the kicker:

Nonviolent tactics—military defections, labor strikes, women-led organizing, citizen journalism, youth initiatives, diaspora intervention—all laid the groundwork for mass consciousness, for global pressure, for challenging power. That synergy—between nonviolence and resistance—can shake even the most iron-fisted regime.

And sometimes, it really is the smallest things that chip away at a dictator’s throne—

One viral video.
One message alert.
One united strike, at a time.

So next time someone tells you that dictators are unstoppable, or that nonviolent action is for dreamers, remind them of five things:

1️⃣ Soldiers & Officials can say, “Nah, I’m out.”

2️⃣ Strikes & Sit-ins can freeze an entire country.

3️⃣ Women & Youth are not just participants—they are the backbone.

4️⃣ Media—even a shaky phone video—can shred a dictator’s legitimacy.

5️⃣ Diaspora activists, digital communities, and even comedians are rewriting the rules.

Because here’s what we know: The Arab Spring might have started in 2010, but its aftershocks are still reshaping the MENA region. And if you think the story’s over, you’re not paying attention.

I’m Layal Beyhum, and this has been The Nonviolence Now Podcast. Thanks for listening—and keep resisting.

Outro, Layal: Thank you for joining us on the Nonviolence Now Podcast. We hope today’s episode left you feeling inspired. If it did, don’t keep it to yourself—share it with your friends and community. Together, let’s spread the word about the power of nonviolent action.