Resistance 101: The Importance of Kindness
Why helping others isn't just good—it's revolutionary.
In times of democratic backsliding and authoritarian rule, kindness may seem trivial or even naïve. Yet history shows that small acts of compassion and solidarity can be profoundly subversive. Authoritarians thrive on fear, division, and cruelty; kindness resists by building trust, courage, and community.
From a French village quietly saving thousands from the Nazis to mothers reaching out and banding together to demand answers for their disappeared children in Argentina, kindness has often been a radical act of defiance. Science, too, backs up the power of empathy and cooperation: prosocial behavior not only boosts individual wellbeing but also strengthens the social cohesion that makes societies resilient.
Today we’ll explore how kindness has functioned as a form of resistance around the world and why practicing everyday kindness is a powerful response to today’s creeping authoritarianism.
Kindness as Resistance: Lessons from History
Le Chambon-sur-Lignon (France, WWII): A Village of Rescuers
In the mountains of Vichy France, the people of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon turned their town into a safe haven. From 1940–1944, villagers in the area (total population ~25,000) provided refuge to an estimated 5,000 people fleeing persecution, including 3,000–3,500 Jews.
Led by a local pastor, André Trocmé, these residents hid strangers in their homes, forged identity papers, and smuggled many across the Swiss border to safety. Such widespread, collective kindness was highly unusual during the Holocaust era – it engaged virtually an entire community in non-violent resistance. Rooted in Huguenot Protestant values and memories of their own persecution, the people of Le Chambon simply “accepted each of us, taking us in with warmth,” recalled one Jewish child refugee.
Their humane refusal to yield to Nazi barbarism – refusing even to ring church bells for Vichy leader Marshal Pétain – shows how compassion can undermine an authoritarian regime’s policies. This quiet rescue network saved thousands of lives and stands as a testament to kindness as courage.
Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (Argentina, 1977–83): Kindness as the Seed of Defiance
It began with heartbreak and quiet concern. In the late 1970s, under Argentina’s military dictatorship, thousands of people—activists, students, teachers, even teenagers—were abducted by the regime and never seen again. The government denied everything. Families were left with silence and fear.
In this darkness, a few mothers who had lost their children did something simple, yet powerful: they reached out to one another.
At first, it was simple human kindness—one grieving mother knocking on another’s door, offering tea, a shoulder, a shared prayer. Many of them had never been politically active before. They were driven not by ideology but by love and empathy, desperate to make sense of the terror they were enduring.
That kindness became connection. Those connections became meetings. And eventually, those meetings spilled out into the public square.
In 1977, they began gathering in Buenos Aires’ Plaza de Mayo. Just a few at first—standing together, walking in slow circles, wearing white headscarves embroidered with their children’s names. They carried photos, hugged strangers, and shared stories. As the gatherings grew, they were no longer isolated mothers; they were a movement rooted in mutual care.
The regime dismissed them as “crazy women” (las locas), and some of the founding mothers were abducted themselves. But the others kept showing up—not with violence or slogans, but with grief, dignity, and radical compassion. If one mother was arrested, the others demanded to be jailed alongside her. If one learned new information, she shared it with all.
Their movement was born not in confrontation but in a refusal to let each other face horror alone. In a society paralyzed by fear, the Mothers created an oasis of solidarity—a space where kindness defied terror.
Over time, that kindness changed Argentina. It sparked international outrage, forced open government secrets, and helped a shattered nation reckon with its past. But the movement’s power began in living rooms and street corners, when ordinary women decided to comfort one another. That’s where resistance started: not with anger, but with empathy.
Mutual Aid in Post-Coup Myanmar (2021–present): Solidarity Under Siege
When Myanmar’s military seized power in a 2021 coup, communities across the country responded not only with mass protests but with mutual aid. As the junta cracked down and public services collapsed, people “turned inward and relied on mutual support and self-reliance” more than ever. A longstanding tradition of community self-help (known as parahita) was reinvigorated and supplemented by new grassroots groups: Gen Z volunteers, informal networks of neighbors, strike funds for civil servants joining the anti-coup Civil Disobedience Movement, and underground humanitarian teams delivering food and medicine.
Crucially, many did this as a deliberate act of resistance – boycotting any aid from the military regime and instead taking care of each other outside the state’s control. Even under threat of violence, mutual aid groups in Myanmar have worked in secret to help displaced and vulnerable people in an attempt to avoid the regime’s persecution. This horizontal kindness knits communities together in a time of terror. It also frustrates the junta’s attempts to breed hopelessness.
By feeding, healing, and protecting one another, Burmese citizens are quietly saying “no” to the authoritarian idea that only might makes right. Their solidarity sustains the pro-democracy resistance through dark times.
The Science: How Kindness Fuels Resilience and Resistance
History provides moving examples, but does kindness really strengthen a society? Research in psychology, sociology, and political science suggests that acts of generosity and empathy have concrete, measurable effects that make communities more cohesive and hardy – exactly what authoritarianism seeks to destroy.
Stress Reduction and Emotional Resilience
Psychologically, kindness is a powerful antidote to fear and stress. Performing or even witnessing acts of kindness triggers the release of oxytocin and endorphins – hormones that elevate mood and counter stress responses. One long-term study found that “perpetually kind people have 23% less cortisol” (the primary stress hormone) and may even age more slowly than the average population.
Lower stress levels translate to clearer thinking and less susceptibility to panic – crucial in crises. In one experiment, highly anxious individuals were asked to do six acts of kindness per week; after one month, they showed significantly increased optimism and decreased social avoidance.
In short, kindness builds personal resilience. Rather than the constant anxiety and mistrust that authoritarian environments breed, a culture of compassion helps people stay calm, cope better, and avoid the fatalism that tyrants rely on.
“Contagious” Prosocial Behavior
Kindness doesn’t just stop at one person – it spreads. Social science has repeatedly found that generosity and helping behavior are contagious across social networks. In one notable study, when one participant in a group gave away money in a cooperation game, their single altruistic act ultimately influenced dozens of others to give more, tripling the total level of cooperation in that network. Goodness spurs goodness. Psychologists call this prosocial contagion: seeing someone help a neighbor or stand up for a vulnerable person inspires observers to do the same.
This ripple effect is the opposite of the fear contagion that authoritarians spread (whereby people copy acts of cruelty or silence). Instead, contagious kindness builds social cohesion – the trust and willingness to cooperate among community members. Strong social cohesion makes it harder for regimes to pit citizens against one another. Studies of communities in conflict zones find that when neighbors band together – sharing resources, caring for the vulnerable – it “reinforces social cohesion” and can even prevent or mitigate violent conflict.
Authoritarian rule often advances by isolating individuals and eroding bonds of trust; kindness knits the social fabric back together, creating networks of mutual support that bad actors struggle to break.
Democratic Durability
Political science scholars note that healthy democracies rest on more than laws and institutions – they require a culture of solidarity and trust built through everyday interactions. Francis Fukuyama argued that social capital (the web of cooperation and trust in a society) is “the sine qua non of stable liberal democracy.” That is to say: without social capital, liberal democracy is doomed to fail.
In practice, this means that a citizenry inclined to help each other – whether by volunteering at a food pantry or defending a neighbor’s rights – is also more likely to work together to hold leaders accountable. Prosocial engagement fosters what could be called democratic resilience: the capacity to withstand shocks like demagogues or crises without abandoning core values.
Empirical research supports this. Communities with vibrant civil society and high social trust tend to resist authoritarian appeals, because people are less easily divided by hate and fear. Kindness, in this sense, isn’t just a private virtue; it’s a public good that undergirds democracy. By promoting mental well-being, spreading through social networks, and strengthening communal ties, everyday acts of kindness create the social conditions that make authoritarianism harder to take root.
A Daily Call to Action Amid Democratic Erosion
Even in the United States – historically seen as a stable democracy – recent events have led to measurable democratic erosion. Polarization, political violence, and institutional attacks have many Americans on edge. In such an environment, practicing kindness is not fluffy idealism; it’s a daily form of resistance that any person can do. Authoritarians and extremists push cruelty – from dehumanizing immigrants to banning books about marginalized communities – precisely because cruelty divides and weakens us. By choosing kindness instead, ordinary people push back in tangible ways.
Consider the wave of anti-immigrant laws in some U.S. states. In Florida, for example, a 2023 law (SB 1718) made it a felony to transport an undocumented immigrant into the state, effectively criminalizing giving someone a ride or shelter based on their status. This is authoritarian-style policy that tries to scare citizens out of basic acts of neighborliness. The counterstrategy is simple: keep being a good neighbor. Communities and faith groups in Florida and beyond have responded by redoubling efforts to support immigrant families – providing legal aid, organizing “know your rights” clinics, offering rides to doctor’s appointments, or simply inviting immigrants into their homes for meals. Such kindness directly defies attempts to isolate and terrorize a targeted group. It sends a message that we do not see these people as enemies – we see them as humans and friends. That solidarity undermines the “us vs. them” narrative that demagogues depend on.
Or take the resurgence of book bans in schools and libraries, often targeting works by or about people of color and LGBTQ Americans. These bans aim to constrict knowledge and breed intolerance. Here, too, kindness is an act of resistance: librarians, teachers, and neighbors are sharing banned books hand-to-hand, starting free little libraries, and forming “banned book clubs” to ensure students still have access to diverse ideas. In the last school year alone, over 10,000 books were banned in U.S. public schools – nearly triple the number from the year before – but communities are fighting back with empathy and inclusion.
Meanwhile, as authorities increase surveillance and crackdowns on protest, acts of kindness sustain the right to dissent. When peaceful demonstrators face harassment, supporters can step up in small ways – donating snacks and water at marches, offering a safe place to rest or recover, or simply checking in on activists’ well-being. Legal observers and medics who volunteer at protests exemplify this “solidarity kindness.” During the 2020 racial justice protests, for instance, countless communities mobilized care for protesters – from handing out water bottles to washing pepper spray out of strangers’ eyes. These gestures may seem ordinary, but they add up. They keep people showing up, knowing others have their back. They signal to would-be authoritarians that if you come for one of us, you come for all of us.
Kindness promotes social cohesion, resilience, and resistance – this isn’t abstract idealism, but a lesson borne out by history and science. From a French hamlet that outfoxed the Gestapo with shelter and forged papers, to mothers in Argentina who refused to let a violent regime erase their children, to neighbors in Myanmar risking their lives to feed each other, empathy has repeatedly proven its power against tyranny. And research shows that those small acts – helping a neighbor, welcoming a stranger, sharing knowledge – strengthen the very psychological and social fabric that democracy depends on.
In the face of rising authoritarian tendencies in the U.S., the first entry in our “Resistance 101” series comes down to this call to action: be kind, boldly. Practice compassion especially when the climate encourages cruelty. Engage in mutual aid and community care. Stand up for those being scapegoated. These actions not only make a difference to individuals; they radiate outward, inspiring others and fortifying the norms of respect and pluralism. In a darkening time, choosing kindness is a radical light – one that authoritarians fear, and free societies sorely need. As we resist with our voices and our votes, we must also resist with our hearts, turning everyday kindness into a quiet, unbreakable revolt.