In the eleven months since Donald Trump took office – during which he has unleashed unprecedented assaults on the checks and balances of American democracy – there has been a wave of warnings and advice from activists, writers and scholars who have either fought against authoritarian regimes or studied them closely. A common thread runs through much of their guidance: Americans, especially those in positions of power, must find the courage to stand up for what is right, even when doing so carries personal risk.
Yet few have addressed the harder questions: how does one become courageous? How much of courage is innate, and how much is learned? And what can we do to help people find the courage to act?
I am a Chinese human rights advocate. For 15 years, I have worked alongside many brave individuals in China who have stood up to the notoriously repressive Chinese Communist party (CCP). Their experiences have taught me invaluable lessons about fear and courage. If you are a federal government employee wondering whether to resign rather than carry out an order you believe is wrong, an academic debating whether to speak to a journalist about political interference on your campus, or an editor weighing the risks of publishing a story that could draw government retaliation, here are a few lessons I hope will help you.
Most people understand that if everyone were to resist together, they could prevail. But they also know that such unity rarely happens and that resisting alone can seem to bring only personal cost, with no visible gain for anyone. I have no easy answer to this classic “collective action” problem, but I can say this: while acting on your moral convictions can be risky, it can also feel profoundly good.
Over the years, many people from China have confided in me about a painful dilemma: “If I speak up, I live in fear of being punished by the government. If I stay silent, I live in shame for feeling complicit. What should I do?” Caught between such a rock and a hard place, they feel paralyzed. Yet those who ultimately choose to speak out often tell me afterward that they are glad they did – regardless of whether punishment followed. The act of standing in truth, they say, is deeply freeing and empowering.
In late 2022, as protests erupted across China against Xi Jinping’s draconian zero-Covid restrictions, many participants described feeling a sense of euphoria. A young woman in Beijing said standing up for her own dignity was “the most important decision of my life”. Another wrote: “It wasn’t until that night that I realized there were so many people who spoke our language, that there were, in fact, so many of us … brave us.” (The Chinese authorities arrested an unknown number of protesters, later releasing most of them while handing down prison sentences to some.)
By contrast, staying silent against your conscience can be emotionally draining. It eats away at your self-esteem, dampens your spirit, and stifles your creativity. A common topic at dinner tables among Chinese people living abroad is the struggle to shake off the ingrained self-censorship shaped by an earlier life under authoritarianism. One friend told me that she no longer writes in Chinese because she can’t help but self-censor the moment she starts to type. Even though her English feels clumsy, she said, writing in English gives her a sense of freedom – and that freedom matters more to her than elegant prose.
It’s important to remember that Trump’s America is far less repressive than Xi’s China, and Trump’s capacity for retaliation is nowhere near Xi’s. If Chinese people can still feel good about standing up, so can Americans.
While it is true that some people are naturally more risk-averse and others more inclined to defy authority, courage can be cultivated through exposure and repetition, much like building a muscle. When people from China ask me how to overcome fear, I often encourage them to take one small step beyond their comfort zone, then see how it feels before taking the next. Never commented on political issues online? Try making a mildly critical post. Never attended a Tiananmen Massacre commemoration abroad? Go to one – wearing a mask if that makes you feel safer. Courage grows gradually through small acts that push the boundaries of fear.
Many of the extraordinary human rights activists in China did not start out as “activists.” They were ordinary people with regular jobs, some even indifferent to politics. Their transformation often began with tiny acts: reposting a censored social media message, pushing back when a school administrator dictated what could not be said in class or demanding that the police explain why a relative had been detained simply for doing his job. Step by step, they learned to speak up more boldly and to endure greater reprisals. Each decision – to tell the truth, to refuse to comply, to insist on accountability – expanded their sense of agency.
In 2015, the Chinese government disappeared the prominent human rights lawyer Wang Quanzhang. Over the next three years, his wife, Li Wenzu – who had not been involved in her husband’s professional life – launched a relentless campaign demanding information about him and calling for his release. She later said the experience left her “no longer resembling my former self”, transforming her from a shy, gentle woman into a committed advocate. Her husband was released from detention in 2020 but continued to face harassment.
And finally, once you choose to take a stand at personal cost, you may be surprised by how many people – including those you never expected – reach out to express their admiration and support. That kind of affirmation can be deeply rewarding. And courage is contagious. Your act of conscience nudges others toward their own. Even if your actions don’t immediately ignite a wave of change or yield tangible results, your bravery will stay with people. It will become a quiet source of inspiration for them when their own moment of decision comes. Acts of courage rarely vanish; they ripple outward in ways we cannot always see.
So, Americans, stand up and fight back!
What’s giving me hope now
Coming from China, I’ve always deeply appreciated the energy of the American people. They are gregarious and sometimes brash, but also refreshingly non-hierarchical and free-spirited. I think this vitality is rooted in the country’s immigrant character – immigrants are often a self-selected group driven to improve their lives. After so many generations of liberal democracy, those Americans who support it have grown complacent, while authoritarian forces have worked aggressively to disrupt the status quo. But I believe the drift and paralysis many pro-democracy Americans have felt is temporary. Their energy is returning. Creative, determined people will rise from the anti-authoritarian camp, and they will push back with real force.
I like Americans – and I believe in them.
