It’s Time to Embrace the Small Axe Agenda

By James Peterson | WURD Radio

“If you are the big tree, we are the small axe.” —Bob Marley

Where we are now in America is perilously close to the brink of democracy’s demise. The doomsday clock for democracy—if there ever was one—is ticking. Not just from the top down, but from within: corrupted courts, compromised media, and an increasingly autocratic executive vision for this nation. The signs are unmistakable. And in moments like these, we must remember the power of the small axe.

The late, great Bob Marley sang of it with prophetic clarity: “If you are the big tree, we are the small axe.” His song was not just poetic; it was political. It’s a battle hymn for grassroots resistance –for the cumulative power of small acts. And for those of us who refuse to sleep through the rise of fascism, it’s a call to sharpen our axes and to embrace an abiding sense of faith in our tiny little small acts of resistance in this moment.

This summer, we saw the force of this small-axe resistance in action. In the wake of mounting autocracy, the No Kings rally mobilized hundreds of thousands across thousands of locations. From New York to Atlanta, from Philly to Oakland, everyday people showed up to register their resistance—not with violence or chaos, but with conviction. They reminded us that a single match might be snuffed out, but a wildfire of small flames can’t be contained. The Good Trouble Lives On protests stoked a similar flame earlier this month, with tens of thousands of people protesting the erosion of civil liberties at some 1,600 locations across this nation. 

The late John Lewis’ legacy is instructive at this moment. His individual commitment to advancing civil rights for Black people in this nation transformed from protest to policymaking over time, but his life’s work will always stand as a paragon for what any of us must be prepared to do in the face of unyielding violent oppression and government repression of liberty and civil rights.

These brave acts of individual resistance must be multiplied through collective efforts that embrace an iterative cadence. There is a lengthy list of small acts appropriate for this moment. Some of these include: voting in off-cycle elections (where turnout is low but consequences are high); supporting independent, Black-owned media like WURD Radio, which remains one of the last bastions of free Black thought in a corporatized media landscape; practicing mutual aid in our communities, resisting isolation and building networks of care; boycotting companies and institutions that align with anti-democratic agendas; and last but not least – spending consciously (rather than conspicuously), because in a capitalist society, where and how you spend is a political act.

There is an etymological irony in the origins of the word “boycott.” It comes from the 19th-century Irish resistance against Captain Charles Boycott, a British land agent who refused to lower rents during an agricultural crisis. In response, Irish tenants and workers collectively ostracized him: no labor, no business, no contact. Many of them ignored him in the streets – refused to do any business with him. It worked. And the tactic was so effective, so revolutionary, that his name became the term we use for organized economic resistance.

Boycott wasn’t a leader of resistance. He was its target. But the people, through small acts of refusal, created a movement powerful enough to etch itself into our language in the 21st century. This same spirit has animated some of the most effective campaigns in modern history: 

• Consider the Montgomery Bus Boycott (1955–56): Ignited by Rosa Parks, sustained by everyday Black riders walking and carpooling for over a year, and strategically executed to bankrupt segregationist transit; or the United Farm Workers grape boycott(1960s–70s): Led by César Chávez and Dolores Huerta, it coerced companies to negotiate fair contracts with farm laborers.
• Not too long ago, the #DeleteUber (2017), a social media-driven mass deletion campaign in response to Uber’s undermining of a taxi strike during Trump’s Muslim ban, forced leadership changes. The more recent #NoBuyJuly/#NoBuy2025 movements have urged collective refusal to spend as a protest against corporate exploitation and state violence, especially potent in Black communities where spending power is enormous, but often underleveraged for political change.
• Black Lives Matter is another contemporary example of this spirit of resistance. Like the original boycott, it wasn’t sparked by a single leader but by collective outrage and everyday acts of defiance—marches, walkouts, social media campaigns, and economic refusals. From divestment efforts to demands for justice, BLM harnesses the power of ordinary people mobilizing against systemic injustice, proving that decentralized, grassroots action can still shift culture, policy, and public consciousness.

Each of these efforts began as small acts—skipping a ride, choosing not to shop, walking instead of riding or using hashtags to post messages on social media. But their cumulative effect was massive.

To understand the urgency of this moment, please note the creeping normalization of autocracy all around us. The cancellation of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert – a brilliant (and at times bombastic) critic of right-wing extremism. His ouster raises real concerns about corporate consolidation and political censorship. Add to this the continued entrenchment of a right-wing Supreme Court and a Congress increasingly unrepresentative of the people, pointing to a systemic erosion of checks and balances.

The triumph of Trumpism: (re)packaged, (re)branded, and dangerously sown into the fabric of this diminishing democracy – signals not just a second act but an extraordinary escalation. The advance of fascism in America is real. But Donald Trump is not the big tree. He is a fallen, chopped trunk. The enduring danger is what lies beneath: the deeply rooted rot of white nationalism, the oligarchy of corporate interests, the plutocratic lobbying class, and unrepresentative congressional institutions that enable minority rule.

In times like these, every dollar is a decision. Every post is a protest. Every neighbor you speak to is a node in the network of resistance. We must boycott—strategically and collectively. But we must also buy in. Support what supports democracy. Spend where your values live. Black-owned businesses. Independent media. Local farms. Worker co-ops. Arts collectives. Think of every dollar not as consumption, but contribution.

Recent ads from American Eagle and Dunkin Donuts appear to embrace age-old ideologies informed by the pseudoscience of eugenics. Maybe this is ad agency ignorance. Maybe it’s white nationalist propaganda. But the calls to boycott these brands were immediate and insistent. This is a good thing. Outrage matters more in this capitalist country when the threat of withholding currency is centered in our resistance. Even the threat of a boycott can be one of the most boisterous tools in our political toolkit.

Fascism festers in silence—it thrives in complacency. We cannot afford complacency. We cannot wait for November or for the midterms as if these opportunities will survive this immediate moment. And sadly, we cannot assume the courts will save us.

Ultimately, we have only ourselves. Our votes. Our voices. Our small acts. Our tiny axes. Sharpen them. Use them. The big tree is a rotted trunk with dying roots poisoning our body politic. The time for action is now.