Power of the powerless
“When the people fear the government, there is tyranny. When the government fears the people, there is liberty” — Thomas Jefferson
VÁCLAV Havel (1936-2011) has been described as a “Czech statesman, author, poet, playwright and dissident”. He was Czechoslovakia’s last president from 1989 until its dissolution on Dec 31, 1992. After the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia in August 1968 and suppression of the Prague Spring he became one the leading dissidents against communist rule for which he was persecuted and imprisoned.
In 1978, Havel wrote an essay on power, resistance, and moral responsibility — ‘The Power of the Powerless’. Written under the repressive communist regime, the essay was not merely a critique of authoritarianism; it was a profound thought piece on how ordinary people sustain — or can dismantle — systems of control. Half a century later, its message resonates far beyond its original context, offering important lessons for societies grappling with various forms of repression. Havel’s central argument was simple: authoritarian systems do not rely solely on brute force. They persist because ordinary people, often out of fear, expediency or resignation, participate in maintaining a “culture of lies”. The true power of such systems lies not only in the state but in the compliance of the governed. Conversely, the greatest threat to these systems is not armed rebellion, but the quiet, persistent refusal of individuals to live within those lies.
Havel used the metaphor of a greengrocer who places a political slogan in his shop window — not because he believes in it, but because it is expected. This small, seemingly insignificant act is, in Havel’s view, a cornerstone of authoritarian power. It signals conformity and perpetuates the system.
Even in constrained circumstances, individuals retain the capacity to choose — to speak the truth, to act with integrity, to refuse complicity.
This concept is highly relevant in contemporary societies such as Pakistan. While the political system is ostensibly democratic, many people experience pressures to publicly align with state narratives. Whether in media, academia, civil service or everyday social interactions, there is often an unspoken expectation to avoid dissent and to self-censor. Hence Havel’s argument forces an uncomfortable realisation: oppression is not only imposed from above; it is reproduced from below.
Havel proposes a radical alternative. He challenges us to “living in truth”, which does not mean grand acts of defiance but something as simple as refusing to repeat what one knows to be false, and choosing honesty over convenience in everyday interactions.
In settings where journalists, political workers and ordinary citizens face real risks for speaking out, this might seem idealistic, even dangerous. But Havel’s point is not that resistance is easy; it is that it is necessary and that even small acts of truth can have cumulative power. ‘Living in truth’ is about creating cracks in the façade of total control. When individuals begin to act authentically, they disrupt the system’s reliance on uniformity and fear. Over time, these disruptions can coalesce into broader movements for change.
One of Havel’s most important contributions is his rejection of the idea that power belongs only to elites. He argues that ordinary citizens — students, teachers, shopkeepers — possess a latent power that is often underestimated. This power lies not in weapons or wealth, but in the ability to withdraw consent.
In Pakistan, where the public is frustrated with corruption, governance, accountability and civil liberties, it is easy to feel powerless and to believe that meaningful change is impossible. Havel challenges this fatalism and reminds us that systems of power are more fragile than they appear. They depend on routines, rituals and assumptions that can be disrupted. When enough people begin to question, resist or simply refuse to comply, the system’s stability is undermined. Change may be slow and with setbacks but the alternative — passive acceptance — is itself a form of surrender.
Another key lesson from Havel’s essay is the importance of solidarity. Isolated acts of dissent, while meaningful, are often vulnerable. But when individuals come together, forming communities of trust and mutual support, they create ‘parallel structures’. In Czechoslovakia, this took the form of underground publications, cultural networks and informal associations that operated outside state control, allowing people to express themselves freely, share ideas and maintain a sense of dignity.
Today, similar forms of solidarity can be seen on independent media, including social media platforms, and in civil society organisations. They represent vital arenas for engagement and collective action. These spaces, however small, help preserve truth, foster resilience and sustain hope.
Perhaps the most enduring aspect of Havel’s thought is his insistence that politics is, at its core, a moral endeavour. He rejects the notion that politics is all about strategy, power or pragmatism. Instead, he argues ethical considerations — truth, responsibility, human dignity — must remain central. This is particularly relevant in contexts where political discourse is dominated by polarisation, self-interest or cynicism. In societies where public trust in institutions has been eroded by corruption and lack of accountability, Havel challenges not only leaders to act with integrity, he also places responsibility on citizens. Ethical politics cannot be outsourced; it must be practised collectively.
Change, if it comes, will likely be gradual. It will require patience, persistence and a willingness to endure setbacks. But Havel’s work offers a form of hope that is grounded in reality rather than illusion.
‘The Power of the Powerless’ is not simply an essay about authoritarianism; it reminds us that even in constrained circumstances, individuals retain the capacity to choose — to speak the truth, to act with integrity, to refuse complicity. In a time when many feel overwhelmed by the scale of toxicity in political and social discourse, this message is empowering. It shifts the focus from what cannot be controlled to what can, ie, one’s own actions, choices and commitments. By choosing to live in truth, by building solidarity and by insisting on ethical responsibility, ordinary people can begin to reclaim their agency.
That, ultimately, is Havel’s enduring legacy — a reminder that even in the face of oppression, the powerless are never entirely without power.
The writer is professor emeritus, psychiatry, Aga Khan University.
Published in Dawn, May 2nd, 2026
