

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
A people's housing Justice movement against the Spanish eviction crisis provides a model for making change.
While stopping evictions is the PAH’s [Platform for People Affected by Mortgages, or Plataforma de Afectados por la Hipoteca] most well-known activity, the movement only began to use civil disobedience as a tactic of resistance out of necessity. Foreclosure processes tend to move slowly and a series of other problems must be resolved before eviction is imminent. At some point, people in the assembly started getting eviction notices, but the first ones to receive them didn’t feel the strength to try and resist the police kicking them out. In 2010, PAH Barcelona was approached by a man named Lluís who had just received a date for eviction from his house in La Bisbal del Penedès. He was desperate, claiming that he’d rather fill his house with butane canisters and blow it up, than to hand it over to the bank. At the PAH, they quickly understood the need for an alternative solution.
The platform’s founders realized that at some point they would have to resort to direct action to stop evictions, but they didn’t think they’d be capable of it... until they were forced to. To stop Lluís’ eviction, they armed themselves with a strong narrative, echoing the legal and ethical arguments against eviction, and an energetic communication campaign that included signs, banners, and media coverage. Moreover, the entire action was recorded.
They knew they had to avoid violence, and when the judicial delegation arrived, the activists did not physically engage them, but simply blocked the entrance to the house, tried to talk them out of evicting Lluís and refused to move. There was little the two police officers could do, and the eviction was postponed. Two days later, the PAH released the video of the demonstration, providing proof of what would later become one of the movement’s slogans: “Sí se puede!”

Civil disobedience as a tactic to stop evictions became part of the PAH’s regular activity. “What we have to do to stop evictions has become so normalized that when we talk about it at the assembly, we don’t speak in terms of ‘we’re engaging in civil disobedience,’ although that is what we do, and perhaps we should reflect more on that,” ponders Berni from PAHC Bages. “The PAH emerged at a time when thousands of evictions for mortgage defaults were taking place and the issue affected a lot of people who thought they were middle class; in the public discourse, everyone saw that this was something dramatic and unfair,” recalls Emma from PAHC Sabadell. “The fact that in this context, a group of people spoke out to draw attention to this injustice and engaged in nonviolent but active civil disobedience led to the success of the PAH model and its acceptance within society,” she concludes.
“The experience of protesting inside a bank with fifty people is really fulfilling, it takes away your fear and it empowers you.”
To ensure that the platform’s civil disobedience continues to be successful, it’s vitally important for it to preserve that legitimacy. That means being able to justify each and every action as legitimate. Although it will sometimes react to emergency situations, the PAH only takes action on evictions affecting people already involved in the platform. At their assemblies, PAH groups make it clear that they’re not an eviction prevention service, but that they work on the basis of mutual support and only try to block evictions when the people being evicted do not have proper alternative housing.
Beyond the general idea behind these actions—to resist peacefully at the entrance to the building to prevent the judicial delegation from entering—they must be carefully planned and roles must be assigned to make sure everything runs smoothly. If there are minors in the family’s care, a solution must be found to ensure that they aren’t in the house at the time when the eviction is scheduled. It’s very important to support the family, who might be out on the street with their compas, or prefer to resist from inside their home. It’s also very important to remember that the action revolves around their interests and they must be kept informed of what’s happening and able to make decisions when necessary.
Outside, the aim is to keep people’s spirits up while they wait for the judicial delegation to arrive, which might take the whole morning. It’s important to have people to energize the protest in creative ways and give directions. Although people can move around, someone must be responsible for making sure that the door is always protected.
It’s also important to decide in advance how to communicate the purpose and legitimacy of the action to the public, and who will be in charge of communicating with the authorities and the media, rather than leaving it to be decided on the spot.
It’s also helpful to consider preparing the affected person how to deal with the press, if necessary. The movement’s social media presence and its relationship with the media are also very important, as these are tools that can be used to amplify the PAH’s demands and reinforce its legitimacy.

The PAH has an extensive repertoire of actions that goes far beyond stopping evictions. In fact, stopping an eviction is not usually the final solution, but a postponement that should make it possible to find a more permanent answer to the problem. This might require action against financial institutions, public authorities or water, electricity, and gas companies. Besides taking action in support of specific cases, big demonstrations can be called to target the institutions responsible for the problems faced by many families.
“I remember the first time we occupied a bank, back in 2010 or 2011. We occupied Caixa Catalunya and the riot police came to kick us out; that was ecstasy, a real high, and then the fear disappeared,” says Delia from PAH Barcelona. “The experience of protesting inside a bank with fifty people is really fulfilling, it takes away your fear and it empowers you.” Many people emphasize the strength of collective action; sometimes the mere act of covering a bank with posters condemning its actions is very powerful. “Wallpapering is a high, an outlet for your rage; you can take out all the hatred you’ve built up inside and stick it all over the institution,” says Juan Luis from PAH Torrevieja.
That’s where the festive tone and creativity of the PAH’s actions come in. Even if you’re protesting against a very difficult issue, you have to make room for joy. If you occupy a bank, you can use the leaflets that are there for anyone to take as confetti and play music or put up balloons and banners. “It wiped away my fear of the bank when I saw how all the employees could leave and the office would be left alone, occupied by activists,” says Juan Luis. The PAH manages to paralyze the bank’s activity without confronting anyone or even directly hindering its work. The movement’s actions are simply intended to make its presence felt because the bank is unwilling to continue its activity in these conditions.
Of course, everyone experiences these actions in their own way and that’s why some groups in Madrid organize what they call “fear workshops.” “These are workshops for people to learn how to act during an action: how to avoid losing their temper or falling for police provocation, how to rely on colleagues. In short, how to overcome yourself so that you can go to the protest, even if you’re afraid, because nothing is going to happen to you in 90 percent of the cases,” explains Alejandra from PAVPS [Platform for People Affected by Public and Social Housing], Madrid.
It’s also important to think about how to look after people in these protests. This can be done, for example, by warning when there’s a possibility that the police show up and recommending that people in an irregular administrative situation stay away to avoid unnecessary risks. “Besides that, they tell you how to act or how to hold onto another person so that they don’t hurt you if they’re trying to remove you by force,” adds Francisco from PAH Barcelona.
This excerpt is adapted from Yes, It’s Possible! A Handbook for Building Power by João França and The Platform for People Affected by Mortgages, published by Common Notions. Copyright (c) 2026 Common Notions. All rights reserved. Do not republish.
People across the country need leaders who will stand with them and fight for them with bold ideas that create real solutions for real problems.
On a crisp November night, I stood shoulder to shoulder at the Brooklyn Paramount Theater with ecstatic New Yorkers celebrating Zohran Mamdani’s victory to become New York City’s first Muslim and South Asian mayor. The ornate hall was filled with people of all races, ethnicities, genders, and ages. I saw elderly South Asian men dancing, young people cheering, women in hijabs and trans women in saris. The venue was filled with hope and promise, and the audience represented the multicultural and multiracial ideals that make America great.
For New Yorkers and millions of people who have felt the political weight of the past years, Mamdani’s ascendance to Gracie Mansion is more than a victory; it is a cultural and emotional reckoning. The current events of the past few years have alienated so many people from politics, but on election night, it was clear that the energy has shifted. Mamdani has ushered in a new generation of politics, one that does not divide across race, religion, or age, but one that brings people together to drive change on the issues that impact their lives.
As a first-generation Muslim immigrant, I felt the November air fill with joy, hope, and an abundance of possibilities. As the CEO of a Muslim voter mobilization organization, I saw how hard the Muslim community worked for this moment, and I recognized the need for leaders like Mamdani and Ghazala Hashmi, who won her race to become Virginia’s first-ever Muslim and South Asian lieutenant governor.
I lead a team of primarily young US-born Muslim Americans, many of whom were born and raised against the backdrop of 9/11. They never lived in an America that embraced their Muslim identities. Yet, they still choose to become activists and organizers working to build a more inclusive and representative America and counter the political machines that demonized them, their families, and their neighbors—both at home and abroad.
New Yorkers showed us that hope and positivity can still win over hate and divisiveness.
Without a doubt, America changed after 9/11, and it slid toward authoritarianism that was largely fueled by rabid anti-Muslim bigotry. Elected officials sought to blame an entire American community for the actions of a few foreigners and waged forever wars that have continued to harm and destabilize entire nations decades later.
Even in today’s Trump era, the America that welcomed me and my family in 1988 from Syria no longer celebrates multiculturalism and the freedom of speech, and it is certainly not seeking peace and justice. Instead, it has continued the war machine of administrations past and fueled new wars against immigrants on American soil.
The election of Donald Trump in 2024 seemed to cement our descent toward isolationism and cruelty—indeed, we are sliding. From the weaponization of Immigration and Customs Enforcement against immigrant communities to the assault against the media to the unabashed corruption and cronyism, American democracy has been severely damaged.
But in the midst of all of this, in the age of Trump 2.0, a young, South Asian man who is unapologetically Muslim was elected mayor of America’s largest city. How could this happen, and what does it tell us about our country? The answer lies in both Mamdani’s platform and in our identity as a nation.
Mamdani’s campaign redefined grassroots organizing, political strategy, and digital outreach. He ran a disciplined and creative campaign that stayed on message no matter what his critics said: Make New York City affordable for all. He spoke the language of unity as his opponents relied on fearmongering and scare tactics. He brought people together under the belief that every day New Yorkers could be agents of change to create the city that they deserve.
Mamdani’s call for affordability was not just a campaign slogan; it was a collective affirmation of what New York City could be. He resonated with voters who are desperately struggling with unaffordable housing, food insecurity, inaccessible transportation, an overburdened healthcare system, and the exorbitant cost of childcare. These issues are not just top of mind for New Yorkers—they are indicative of what most Americans are struggling with. Mamdani remained laser focused on kitchen table issues and committed to a future that cared about the working class. Mamdani transcended his identity and connected directly with everyday people.
But identity does matter, especially for a Muslim-American in New York City. Despite Mamdani’s best efforts to focus on the issues central to his platform, he was forced to confront what his identity meant to the mayoral race—and most importantly, to himself. In the midst of perhaps the ugliest anti-Muslim campaign that we have ever seen directed at a public figure, Mamdani spoke clearly about his values that are grounded in his faith and how it taught him to care for others. He refused to hide it and plainly asked New York to embrace him for who he is. And New York responded with an emphatic yes.
The movement that Mamdani galvanized by meeting everyday New Yorkers where they were led to the highest turnout of voters in a mayoral election since 1969, surpassing all expectations. Over 1 million voters essentially rejected the smears and rose above the hate. They too stayed focused on the issues that actually mattered. New Yorkers showed us that hope and positivity can still win over hate and divisiveness. New Yorkers also showed us that voters can not be bought by deep-pocketed billionaires but can be brought together without demonizing and dehumanizing one another.
Most importantly, Mamdani’s victory showcased that people are hungry for change. We can no longer move forward with politics as usual. Americans across the country need leaders who will stand with them and fight for them. Americans need leaders with bold ideas that create real solutions for real problems.
Past leaders have shown us that America can turn on the people who make this country great. But on November 4, we saw that America is equally capable of producing leaders like Mamdani who fight for the common good.
What neighborhoods need are affordable housing, accessible healthcare, well-funded schools, and good jobs—not Humvees on their corners.
When President Donald Trump stood before military leaders at Marine Corps Base Quantico this September and declared that American cities should serve as “training grounds” for US troops, he did more than test the limits of civil-military relations—he crossed them. His proposal isn’t just bluster. It represents a dangerous escalation in domestic militarization that undermines the Constitution and endangers the very people our government is sworn to protect.
American neighborhoods are not battlefields. These our the places where we build our homes, send our children to school–the places we take the buses to work every morning. These cities are markers of who we are, not training grounds. Treating them as warfields sets a precedent that imperils every citizen, especially the Black, immigrant, and working-class communities he has repeatedly vilified. Cities like Chicago, Los Angeles, and Portland don’t need military drills. They need investments in housing, healthcare, and education.
There’s a reason the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878 restricts the role of federal troops in domestic law enforcement. The law enshrines a fundamental democratic principle: Civilian life must be separate from military power. Trump’s plan to “train” troops in US cities would erase that line entirely.
He has already blurred these boundaries before—from ordering federal forces into Los Angeles during immigration protests to threatening governors who refused to deploy National Guard troops on his terms. Each instance chips away at the legal and moral walls that protect civilian governance.
Democracy thrives when communities are supported, not surveilled; when people are empowered, not patrolled.
Presidents have rarely invoked exceptions to Posse Comitatus. Dwight Eisenhower did so to enforce school desegregation in 1957; George H. W. Bush during the 1992 Los Angeles riots. Those were extraordinary moments of crisis—not political theater. Turning urban neighborhoods into “training zones” is neither an emergency response nor a lawful one. It’s an authoritarian rehearsal.
Equally troubling is the administration’s push to reshape the armed forces around an exclusionary, hyper-masculine “warrior ethos,” while dismantling diversity and inclusion programs. Combining that militant culture with domestic deployments is a recipe for disaster. Soldiers trained to neutralize foreign enemies should never be tasked with policing American citizens. That pairing risks injury, mistrust, and tragedy. This culture of war needs to end.
The US military has long earned public trust precisely because it stood apart from partisan politics. Using troops in domestic political battles destroys that trust—and corrodes the foundation of democracy itself.
Communities need peace, not militarization. No number of military drills will solve crime, poverty, or unrest. What neighborhoods need are affordable housing, accessible healthcare, well-funded schools, and good jobs—not Humvees on their corners.
At the Peace Economy Project, we’ve spent decades showing how misplaced our national priorities have become. The United States now spends nearly $1 trillion each year on its military, yet millions of Americans struggle to pay rent or buy groceries. Trump’s proposal to rehearse war inside our own borders exposes just how warped this imbalance is.
Some dismiss his statements as rhetoric. But we’ve already seen troops deployed unlawfully, governors coerced, and protesters tear-gassed. Each time the line blurs between civilian life and military power, it becomes easier to cross again. We are marching steadily toward authoritarianism.
What begins as “training” can morph into surveillance, detainment, or suppression of protest. Once normalized, that level of militarization will be nearly impossible to reverse.
We cannot allow our neighborhoods to become rehearsal spaces for war. Congress must move swiftly to reaffirm the protections of the Posse Comitatus Act and establish clear penalties for violations. Governors must reject attempts to federalize local security for political purposes. Civil society—from churches to universities to advocacy groups—must remain vigilant, united, and vocal.
Above all, we must remember: Democracy thrives when communities are supported, not surveilled; when people are empowered, not patrolled.
Our cities are not training grounds. They are where families grow, where culture flourishes, and where democracy takes root. The path to peace and safety does not run through military drills in our streets—it runs through justice, opportunity, and care.
As Executive Director of the Peace Economy Project, I call on every elected official, civic leader, and citizen to reject this dangerous experiment in domestic militarization. We must defend the line between war and peace, between authoritarianism and democracy—before it disappears altogether.
Because if we allow our streets to become training grounds for soldiers, we risk losing the very freedoms those soldiers are sworn to defend.