Part II - The Rebel

How does one rebel without a collective revolution, with things seeming less hopeful by the day? Albert Camus reminds us of the freedom of the individual, where the revolt is not a violent act, but an internal act of resistance. It is not a loud act, but a quiet internal shift of choosing that which matters and renouncing the complicity with that which practices and apologises for oppression, exploitation, violence, and injustice. It is a stance of refusing to feign indifference to those ways of things any longer. It is an act of making one's care for the world and for those in it the organising principle of existence, in revolt to what the world demands, rewards, and excuses.

The Rebel stands firm, calm, and says “no”. No more of this, this is unjust. No more, this has gone beyond what is fair, just, or humane. The ‘no’ declares a limit, beyond which things as they are - the status quo - are intolerable. It is a refusal to accept less-than-human treatment and a refusal to stay silent while it happens to others. It is an awakening, a moral stance, an affirmation of things worth preserving. It is an affirmation of a part of self that believes that there are things that still matter. The Rebel says ‘yes’ to that; The Rebel is loyal to a deeper ‘yes’, one connected to the rest of humanity. As I stand up for myself, I stand up for all others, their right to exist, their right to be free - in body, in mind, in spirit.

This stance is not arrived at without suffering.

Prior to taking a stand, The Rebel has tolerated and accepted unjust conditions, all the while keeping quiet, albeit despairingly. Her silence is a mark of that despair, only tolerable because the rebel has thus far convinced herself that she needs nothing, and allowed herself to believe that she wants nothing, or cares for nothing. She has surrendered to cynicism and despair, she is indifferent – and disconnected from a caring part of herself. She has practiced self-abandonment, until this crucial moment of refusing complicity with unethical and immoral acts.

This moment of saying ‘no’ to what is unjust and against humanity, and saying ‘yes’ to life as a precious thing worth saving, living, and experiencing is one of identifying that one still cares for something, and therefore it is a moment where one’s humanity is regained. It is a moment of declaring that there is still something in us that cannot be bought or destroyed. The rebel rejects the cynical purchase of comfort bought with one’s freedom and dignity, he refuses to collude in the silence on which oppression spreads and on which power depends for its exploitative ends.

The Rebel transitions from “this is how things should be” to “this is how I want things to be” and in this transition awakens to himself as an agent of conscience. Through his actions he begins to embody the values of how he wants things to be, and begins to create a different world.

The rebel can be any one person.

These days, when I hear someone despairing, it is the possibility of 'the rebel' emerging that makes me quietly relieved and excited. To hear someone wonder ‘what’s the point?’ makes me smile; it is a very important question they have posed, signalling their journey towards caring and life-affirming practices. Grief, rage, hopelessness, and helplessness - those are all inevitable, but they do not portend the end. I understand now that they signal quite the opposite. Despair and meaninglessness are points on the path towards meaningful action, and a stance of despair tells me that someone is on the move within themselves. Lost, alone, and scared perhaps for the moment, but still hopeful and searching for connection. These painful emotions show we care, and that is the seed of our collective survival now. In a poignant example of why we will always need people in our hour of need, it was another human whose words of rebellion and hope found me, and helped me understand the embodiment of hope as revolutionary and impactful.

We must have compassion for the cynic. The cynic has become one as a defence against their despair, because they have suffered a great disappointment, or a series of disappointments. The world is not what they thought it was, the people not who they thought they were, and things did not work out the way they hoped. That place is one of pain, crushing loss of an ideal or identity, and a dark or foggy space of nothingness. Nothing matters, everything is lost, everything is meaningless, and there is no point in caring, or doing. But this nihilism-lite is just the beginning, and all cynics yearn for rescue by hope and the rejoining to the human tribe.

If this is where you find yourself, you are not alone. There is a world being made right now, built by those who have come through their despair, and remembered their worth and power, and have come to embody it in the way they live, without destroying others in the process. It is a world of radical human care, of creativity, existence, cooperation, and love for what and who we can be. This world is open to all rebels and ready to welcome you into healing and belonging. This is the world of Hopepunk.