After
the Massacre: Mobilization in the Wake of Harsh Repression
forthcoming in Mobilization
Ronald A. Francisco*
Department of Political Science
University of Kansas
1541 Lilac Lane, Lawrence, KS 66044
phone: 785-864-9023
e-mail: ronfran@ku.edu
fax: 785-864-5700
What do dissidents do after a
massacre? This paper uses 31 brutal repressions to test collective action
theory in the harshest possible context. After a massacre, dissidents are
angered at the state, but also fearful of further repression. Can dissidents
mobilize backlash in these circumstances? The paper shows that there is
sufficient information transmission of the massacre to mobilize, and leadership
remains or is replaced after the repression. Dissident leaders use adaptive
tactics to elude repression in most cases. A Bayesian updating test for
mobilization shows that repression reduces backlash and that no repression
increases backlash. Collective action theory works even in this highly
challenging situation.
*Thanks to my colleagues Erik Herron and Gary Reich
for leading me to new massacres and to Paul Johnson and Andrew Whitford for
suggestions about improving the paper. Thanks too to graduate students Federico
Ferrara and Taehyun Nam for providing information on massacres. This work is
partially supported by NSF grant SBR-9631229.
After the Massacre: Mobilization in the Wake of Harsh Repression
Derry, Dublin and St.
Petersburg mark Bloody Sundays; Berlin, Vienna and Tehran Bloody Fridays, and
throughout the world massacres of even larger proportion and severity occurred
during the twentieth century. These events have been consigned to historians in
archives and dissident entrepreneurs who seek to keep alive the memory of state
brutality. We take up 31 of these singular, cruel events to ask a question
seldom posed: What happens after the massacre? What do surviving, uninjured
dissidents do in the days after harsh repression? While this is perhaps an
intrinsically interesting subject, the paper’s objective is theoretical. Mobilization
immediately following a brutal massacre should be the most challenging context
for collective action. But if it does occur is collective action theory correct
(Olson 1971; De Nardo 1985; Sandler 1992; Marwell and Oliver 1993; Lichbach
1987, 1995 and 1996)?
A massacre
ruthlessly and consistently signals the regime’s willingness to repress public
protest (Lichbach 1987). It leaves little doubt about intolerance of dissent.
There are instances, of course, of unintentional massacres—that is, troop
deployment was intended, but the order to fire was never given. Witness the
Kent State University shootings in 1970. Even in such an “unintended” massacre,
however, dissidents can never be really certain that the shooting was not
purposeful. Massive protest occurred in the United States after the Kent State
incident, but the United States, a democratic country, tolerated it. Would this
be the case in the USSR, Iran, El Salvador, or even British-occupied Ireland?
In dictatorial regimes claims of “unintended killings” are dubious.
The hallmarks of
collective action theory are leadership, resources, low-risk of action, and the
possibility of making a difference through protest. All of these properties
have a low probability of supply in the wake of a massacre. While leaders might
survive, they might be arrested or unable to communicate; after a brutal state
shooting the likelihood of a reservoir of resources is low; risk rises and
while martyrdom might make a difference in history, there is little incentive
to go back into the street to face a machine gun nest or the muzzle of a tank
cannon. Nonetheless, we know that some dictators take violent repression to
extremes that occasionally lead to revolution. We also know that inconsistent
repression encourages protest (Lichbach 1987) and that while some repression is
effective, other repressions hurt the state. The reality is that protest after
a massacre is uncharted research territory. We begin a systematic attempt to
analyze this arena with a group of harsh repression events.
This investigation of the
aftermath of a massacre is based on 31 massacres in the twentieth century.
There is, alas, no benchmark list of massacres. Carlton (1994) lists many, but
only in general terms and mostly in the context of war. The events for this
study were drawn from two sources. First, from my own National Science
Foundation grant text coding of protest and repression; second, from
Lexis-Nexis and a traditional library search for massacres. For the most part
these are well-known events, at least to those familiar with the history of
specific regions. Massacres, while numerous, are too rare for true random
sampling. The events represented here are the only appropriate ones I could
find. The principal qualifying criteria for an accepted event are (1)
non-violent unarmed dissidents in (2) a non-democratic country who are (3)
shot, killed or injured in a discrete incident by state forces with at least
three killed and a total set of casualties over thirty. Genocide is excluded (see
Hayner 2001) because it is not discrete, as are most rural massacres since they
leave few to lash back. Table 1
provides summary information for all of the repression events in the study.1
The events, occurring on
almost every populated continent, range throughout the twentieth century.
Events in Europe predominate, but South and East Asia as well as South Africa
and Latin America are also represented. They constitute a most-different
systems sample in space and time (Przeworski and Teune 1970). While many of these events took place during
independence or freedom campaigns, all are discrete repression events. To
preclude inconsistent repression as the cause of backlash (Lichbach 1987),
there are many consistent harsh-repression dictatorships: Burma, South Africa,
occupied Ireland/Ulster, post-World War I Germany, Lebanon, occupied India,
Mexico, occupied Palestine, Poland under martial law, Turkey’s repression of
Kurds and the former USSR. The events in these countries are simply harsher in
scale. Backlash or complete inaction can be documented after each sample event,
a criterion that precluded a number of major, serial massacres, e.g., the
Armenian, Nanjing and Holocaust genocides.
Insert Table 1 here
But after a
massacre, what then? The first problem we face is what really happens after a
massacre. Does this kind of brutal event drive everyone from the streets into
homes? Information about protest after massacres is available, but not readily
summarized. Most books about a single harsh repression focus on the event
itself, not its aftermath. Generally I consulted microfilmed newspapers (or
Lexis-Nexis for post-1980 events) to ferret out details of what occurred on
each post-massacre activity. These searches revealed much backlash against
state repression. Table 2 shows first the number of protesters in the massacre,
then the number of protesters for three post-event days. The total number of protesters killed and
injured is included in each of the backlash events. These data show that a good
deal of backlash took place after most of the massacres.
Insert Table 2 here
Figure 1 shows
that the mean level of post-massacre mobilization accelerates and dwarfs the
original-event mobilization. There is indeed a tremendous amount of backlash.
With this foundation, the problem we now probe is how that backlash is
mobilized after extremely harsh repression.
Insert Figure 1 here
Collective-Action Theory and Post-Massacre Backlash
How does a dissident leader persuade dissidents to act today and tomorrow after hundreds were murdered by the state yesterday? That is the focus of our problem: can existing mobilization theory survive empirical tests in the case of a cold-blooded massacre? On the one hand, a dissident leader can count on moral outrage from the massacre (DeNardo 1985, 208-9). On the other hand, risk of another massacre lowers the ability of outrage to act. In terms of collective-action theory, let us break the problem into several components: (1) information transmission about the massacre, (2) leadership, and then (3) mobilization values: incentives, risk, efficacy, and pursuit of the public good (Olson 1965; DeNardo 1985; Marwell and Oliver 1993; Lichbach 1995, 1996; and Oberschall 1980). With regard to affective orientation alone, recruitment after a massacre is easy—nearly everyone aware of it hates the state. The problem is rationality. With Lichbach’s (1995) rebel’s dilemma risk at its highest levels, and potential gains largely absent, why would any individual act? We grapple with each of these problems in turn.
Information Transmission after a Massacre
The most basic problem for a dissident entrepreneur who has survived a massacre is how to communicate the repression to other surviving dissidents. Susanne Lohmann (1994) modeled an information cascade that occurred in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in late 1989; it was restricted to the Leipzig demonstrations. Her model works in its context in part because almost all East Germans watched West German television. They remained well informed about what was happening throughout the country as well as in Leipzig. Lohmann’s (1994) model is a threshold-based signaling representation. It assumes continuity in time. Essentially, people see a repression event, then they monitor backlash turnout. If turnout increases over time, the regime has a higher probability of collapse. The decision mechanism for dissidents is governed by each dissident’s ideal point and the private information flow to each dissident. Those who already dislike the regime are more ready backlash participants. This model is similar to other threshold models (e.g., Granovetter and Soong 1983). Lohmann (1994) is less concerned with how information is transmitted. How do citizens learn about the repression and the backlash turnout? As noted above, it was easy in the GDR.
Heinrich Böll (1981) notes that it was possible to speak against the Nazi regime with relatives and friends, even in the army, as long as one was discreet (see also Huch 1997). But what about a repression context such as Burma, in which the state precludes publicity, denies its repression, and shuts down institutions such as universities? There is, after all, no West Burma and no informative television coverage of events. A slightly different context appeared in Korea. After the Kwangju massacre, the state released brief press statements to newspapers recounting student riots. Deaths were blamed on these riots. The truth lay hidden for more than a year. Of course local citizens knew what had happened; hundreds of thousands of them protested directly after the massacre. Was this due to a localized information cascade? Let us rethink how people find out about massacres.
First, information transmission differs greatly; it depends on the location of the repression event, i.e., an urban versus a rural area. Almost all of the sample events in this paper are urban massacres. In isolated rural areas, massacres may not become known for months. For example, history documents many banana-worker massacres in Colombia (Henderson 2001), but these generated little reaction because they occurred in remote areas. Similarly, the El Salvador El Mozote massacre (Danner 1994) might not have been discovered for months if one woman had not hidden in a field and survived. Rural massacres are isolated and often leave no survivors to lash back.
Second, we can assume that public protesters, who are usually young, have relatives, neighbors, coworkers, fellow students and friends—an extensive network of personal relationships. Within this web there is a high probability that someone is aware of another individual’s participation in a demonstration. Bernard et al. (2001) have modeled this idea, basing it on the size of social networks. Exhaustive survey research indicates that the minimal size of a median U.S. social network equals 290 (with a standard deviation of 232). The median size is 437. How do these figures relate to our events? Dissident and labor communities should be well integrated, particularly in urban areas and around universities.
Whereas Bernard et al. (2001) calculate the proportion of the total population who know someone in an event, we are interested only in the average number of people who might know an activist in an event. Consequently, we simply calculate the assumed size of a personal network times the number of participants in the repressive event. Although Bernard et al. use the minimum 290 figure of personal networks, there are probably many of the same people in a network of protesters. We cannot know about all networks in a century and all of the countries, thus a more conservative multiplier is 100. Table 3 displays the probable number of people in each area who would know at least one protester. It is clear that this personal information transmission alone can account for significant backlash.
From 50,000 individuals in
San Salvador and Vilnius to ten million in the East German 1953 event it is
apparent that knowledge of the event can travel fast, at least locally, through
a myriad of social networks. All of these numbers represent people who might be
aware of and concerned about a citizen who participated in a protest event.
Information about the massacre is a logical prerequisite for backlash; these
numbers are certainly sufficient to explain how dissidents become aware of
repression despite state denial and lack of media attention. Clearly, the
larger the initial event, and the more dissidents who survive, the more people
would know about the massacre. Knowledge of many of the sample events was
openly available. One striking example of this occurs in diarist Harry Count
Kessler’s (1961) notes concerning the 1918 Spartakus massacre, just two days
after the event, while he was in Warsaw. For our assumptions, though, we should
not consider communication free in all events. The model above opens a solution
to the closed communication problem. The numbers in Table 3 are sufficient to
establish a communication flow. Surviving dissidents are likely to provide
especially lurid accounts of the state’s repression—accounts that virtually no state
can deny to families, friends, and probably even some coworkers.
We should not assume that
all people who learn of a massacre will be willing to protest. In this
situation, we have Lichbach’s (1995) five-percent limit to mobilization. In
other words, the most people who even join a protest are always lower in
numbers than five percent of the community. This is particularly likely after
finding out about a massacre. Most people are risk averse. Nonetheless, these
people form a base of knowledge about the regime and its actions for dissident
activists.
Insert Table 3 here
Leadership
State leaders know that
dissident entrepreneurs are critical agents of mobilization. In a planned
massacre, there is a high probability of an attempt to kill or at least incarcerate
the leaders. Dissident leaders in the wake of a massacre are likely to possess
coordination power (Hardin 1995); they also can persuade dissidents to act and
can form adaptive, risk-averse tactics. What happens when leaders survive and
alternatively what happens when leaders die? We have both instances in our
sample.
When Father Gapon, leader of
the 1905 march to the Tsar, disappeared after the St. Petersburg massacre,
labor leaders took over in his stead. After the 1921 Armristar massacre union
leaders ordered strikes and religious clerics hartals, a Hindu form of
general strike. In tactical contrast, labor leaders in Guinea-Bissau remained
in complete control, yet they decided against immediate backlash. Instead, they
organized and waged a long-term guerrilla war versus the occupying Portuguese
army.
Coordination power after
harsh repression is often significant in generating action and maintaining a
low-level of repression. Only recognized leaders can generate this power
without resorting to force. In Vilnius, the rebels maintained control of the
radio station. They were able to play Lithuanian patriotic music and then give
detailed instructions: stay in the occupied buildings; come to Kannas to mount
a night vigil; erect a barricade at the library (BBC 1991). Perhaps the most
dramatic instance of backlash coordination power was after the Derry Bloody
Sunday in January 1972. A hastily called pub meeting of old (Official) and new
(Provisional) IRA leaders led to an announcement of a general strike. Somehow
everyone in the Catholic community got the message. Grocery stores opened for
one hour and then closed. Then banks opened for one hour, then they closed.
British authorities were astonished that all the Catholic citizens seemed to
know precisely when grocery stores and banks would be open (McCann 1992).
Few dissidents seek to
demonstrate after the state has killed their comrades in cold blood. To
overcome this resistance, leaders generate adaptive tactics. Lichbach (1995)
calls this sort of adaptation the choice of a more productive tactic. After a
massacre leaders’ credibility of choosing tactics might be low. However if the
more productive one obviously is safer, then more dissidents might be willing
to venture into action. Table 4 displays the types of tactics used at the
massacre and subsequently at backlash. While almost all of the event tactics
were in public protest, the backlash tactics mainly consisted of strikes,
funeral rallies, and general strikes. The backlash tactics stress security in numbers
and in the safety of private homes. Minimally more productive, these adaptive
tactics are successful because they reduce risk.
Insert Table 4 here
The adaptive tactics listed
in Table 4 successfully reduce risks, most showing zero deaths or injuries in
backlash protest. Nonetheless, Caracas, Escalante, Managua, Mendiola Bridge,
San Salvador, Soweto, Tehran, Tiananmen, Turkey, Uitenhage, White Bridge/Red
Bridge and the Wujek mine massacres all suffered at least one death in
backlash. Injuries were especially prevalent after the Soweto, Tiananmen, White
Bridge/Red Bridge events and the Wujek mine massacre. Larger scale casualties
resulted from the demonstration tactic employed when dissident leaders were
absent or misjudged the state’s level of contrition for its repression. These
are the events that had the least leadership. While the PKK survived in Turkey,
as a guerrilla movement it had little influence in the cities. Soweto students
continued to challenge police, largely without direction. Solidarity leaders
had been arrested three days before the Wujek massacre, leaving a vacuum
throughout the mining community. More wary tactics reduced death and injury
greatly; most dissident leaders selected strikes and general strikes. In the
1918 Berlin Spartakus movement demonstrations workers armed with rifles and
handguns encircled and protected demonstrators from Free Corps machine guns.
Before we proceed to
backlash mobilization, we pause to reconsider the level of risk in rising
against the state (or occupier) after a massacre. Is backlash after a massacre
without substantial risk? I argue that it is perilous. Risks are both immediate
and residual. The context in which each of our repression events occurred is
either anarchic or totalitarian. As Hayek (1979) points out, the act of central
economic planning leads to totalitarian control. This means that everyone’s
actions can be (and are if one is a dissident) monitored. While DeNardo (1985)
rightly notes the importance of power in numbers, after a massacre any number
who act will be known by the state. A general strike, for example, is most
effective if it is truly widespread. Regardless of its breadth, the state had a
high probability to maintain daily lists of all of those who fail to report for
work. In martial-law Poland, the GDR, and the former Soviet Union, party cells
in factories and mines reported names of absent employees. After the January
strikes in 1905 Russia, strikers faced mass dismissals (Suhr 1989, 197).
Similar known-identity problems arose in South Africa, South and Central
America, as well as in Western Europe and certainly in UK-occupied India and
Ireland. At mildest, repression was a warning of demotion, transfer or firing.
At worst, residual risk translated into a visit from a death squad. Many in the
Berlin Spartakus movement were murdered, including leaders Liebknecht and
Luxembourg one month after their backlash. In El Salvador, where even
librarians were targeted by death squads, known anti-state activists ranked far
higher on the ordinal list for torture and murder (Danner 1994).
The biggest residual risk
from backlash, then, is that the identities of protesters are known, making
activists vulnerable to state punishment. The punishment risk increases greatly
if few act. Leaders assure protesters that their tactics are safe and
productive (Lichbach 1995), but no activist can rely on these promises in a
non-democratic context. If few turn out, the risks of repression or economic
punishment rise even with “safe” tactics.
Buchanan and Tullock (1965,
37) note that rationality of individuals in a political context depends on
iterative events. The day after a massacre provides no relevant previous event
experience. Therefore, any post-massacre protester faces uncertainty at best,
both on the day of action and later on the job or in the university. Table 5
lists the immediate and residual risks in backlash after each massacre. In
fact, in nine of our 30 backlash events protesters were killed or injured,
yielding a 30 percent empirical probability of immediate death or injury. The
aggregate death toll of backlash in Table 2 is 351, with 4,491 injuries.
Insert
Table 5 here
At this point we have
documented three vital prerequisites for mobilization: (1) established sufficient
information transmission of the harsh repression in a local area,; (2)
sustained leadership or new leadership in almost all events; (3) and that
leaders are able to fashion and communicate tactics that lessen risks.
Mobilization in the wake of harsh repression requires all of these,
particularly when one considers the risks noted above. Lichbach (1987) proved
that repression might either deter mobilization or escalate it. If any kind of
repression should deter mobilization, it would seem to be a massacre. Yet we
have seen large-scale backlash after almost all 31 harsh repression events.
None of this, however, helps to explain why any rational individual would dare
to act against the state after a massacre. And therein lies the principal
puzzle. To attempt to solve it, let us begin with the levels of mobilization
that occurred in the each day after the repression event.
The lowest aggregated level
of backlash mobilization (see Figure 1) is post-day 1. With the background
information already established, it is not surprising that the first day after
harsh repression generates larger mobilization than the event itself. Not all
of the backlash protest on post-day 1 is carefully planned, however.
Mobilization sometimes erupts before a dissident leader can communicate safer
tactics to followers. In Soweto, students were so outraged at the violence
directed at them that they continued to riot—as a result many were injured and
killed. The first day after harsh repression, then, is the most dangerous by
far for injuries and dissident deaths. But the third day after the massacre has
the highest level of mobilization. Why then? The principal reason is that
burials of the victims typically take place on the third day after a massacre,
and funerals usually engender large participation and low repression, even if
state forces march lockstep with the mourners. Post-day 3 action does not
signal a continuous rise in mobilization. In fact, mobilization sometimes drops
precipitously, even in ongoing conflicts such as those in South Africa, Ireland, Northern Ireland and Palestine.
Post-day 2 generates middle-level mobilization. To some extent, this is again a
function of the fact that funerals happen on post-day 3. Nonetheless,
accelerating levels of mobilization underscore the sustained success of
mobilization after massacres. It is not easy to keep people from their normal
daily lives for three continuous days at any time, much less, after brutal
repression. The accelerating pattern of our post-repression backlash meets Trotsky’s
(1959) rigorous test: a revolutionary struggle could only succeed in the case
that it ascends step by step every day. We know, of course, that revolution was
not the dissidents’ first priority after our 31 repression events. Our deeper
puzzle, then, remains: how can dissidents be convinced to act after a massacre?
While cold-blooded state
repression angers most citizens, a tipping model seems less appropriate for
analysis in the sense that such models rarely include risks. The risks of
post-massacre mobilization are real and evident. A more appropriate model is
Bayesian updating. We can safely assume that many people are outraged by harsh
repression, yet simultaneously most are even more risk-adverse. Bayesian
updating allows this mixture of outrage and safety attitudes in a single model.
The model of choice is Skyrm’s (1990):
![]()
where {Ai} is a partition of alternative
acts; e is recalculation of expected utilities, and p2(A) is
the updated probability of acting.
The Bayesian updating prior
probability is actual repression probability. If backlash dissidents are killed
and injured on post-days one and/or two, total mobilization should be dampened.
Our first test is graphical: it separates the level of post-day mobilization
from repression and non-repression. Figure 2 indicates a distinctly lowered
level of mobilization from repression. Figure 3 shows higher levels of post-day
three mobilization with no repression.
Insert
Figure 2 here
The Bayesian updating test
uses post-day 1 and post-day 2 real probability of death and injury for prior
probabilities. If there were no post-event repression, the default posterior
probability of mobilization on post-day three is set at 0.333, in other words
the normal one-day probability of a three-day mobilization. Bayesian updating
posterior probability results were set against the actual probabilities of
post-day three mobilization. A paired-sample t-test between these two data
series should be insignificant if Bayesian updating truly damped mobilization
after repression. It is: the means of the two samples are virtually identical
(0.3343 and 0.345 respectively) with a low t-statistic of –0.229, indicating
that actual mobilization was slightly higher for most (repression free) events
on post-day three. Dissidents do consider risks when deciding to act.
Repression dampens mobilization significantly compared to truly “safe” tactics
and no repression.2
Insert
Figure 3 here
Of all the collective action
theorists, Lichbach (1995, 1996) provides the best context needed for protest
after a massacre. We get little help from Olson (1965), who of course never
considered mobilizing dissidents immediately after a massacre. Olson’s (1965)
claim that large mobilization requires selective incentives presents problems
for our events. Resources were not in plentiful supply after our 31 events of
harsh repression—even in documented cases of a million protesters on post-day
3.
DeNardo (1985) considers the
effect of repression and posits that only the public good is necessary for
mobilization. In the case of heavy repression, however, DeNardo (1985) admits
that his mobilization strategy is no longer straightforward; he suggests that
it is necessary to narrow the public good and to mobilize few people
clandestinely. This, effectively, was the Bolshevik solution—have a small group
ready to take over when the regime totters. In none of our cases, however, was
any regime close to falling, save of course the Shah’s regime in Iran (see
Rasler 1996). In our cases there is large, public mobilization on three
successive days after the state shot dissidents dead in cold blood. Indeed, the
public good may narrow to no killing or shooting as may the size of the core
leadership, but somehow thousands, tens of thousands, and in several cases
hundreds of thousands acted to signal their disgust of the state’s action. We
need another approach to mobilization, one with greater flexibility, that will
encompass this extreme type of context.
To Olson’s (1965) solutions
of the collective action problem (selective benefits and the ability to make a
difference), Lichbach (1995, 1996) added scores more—with a catch. The catch is
Lichbach’s proof that no single group of solutions works alone. Dissident
entrepreneurs must combine solution groups in order to persuade the
discontented to act. Lichbach (1995, 1996) did not model our situation,
attempting mobilizing immediately the day after 400 dissidents are shot dead by
the state police or military. But because the approach he designed is both
flexible and general, it applies to our 31 events.
To augment the Bayesian
updating test, we use Lichbach’s (1995, 1996) solutions as an analytic tool. In
doing so, we preclude the assumption of irrationality, the uniqueness of
massacres, or any peculiar opportunities of collective action. The task here is
to discover whether a second rational approach to mobilization works fully in
this extremely narrow and thorny environment. We have already established that
dissident leadership either remains or that substitutes appear quickly after a
massacre. In addition, we have seen that adaptive tactics were the modal
choices of dissident leaders. In mobilization the presence of a leader is a
signal event. Sometimes a leader can use coordination power and continually
reform tactics to mobilize more followers. In terms of Lichbach’s (1995, 1996)
theory, the market and community solutions to mobilization were the most
popular approaches in our 31 events; the hierarchy solution was only slightly
less common, principally because of the need of a pre-existing organization.
The market solution enables an articulate leader, born of a repression event,
to transform a public good into a significant public bad. A massacre endangers
not only dissidents’, but also most citizens’ lives—a message more potent than
a simple plea for more welfare benefits. This sort of public bad is
advantageous in preventing a loss, something (Quattrone and Tversky 1988) found
to be more important to people than attempting to receive gains. Loss of safety
implies Hobbes’s dilemma—an historically important public bad (see Ferrara,
2003).
Salient costs near the time
of the massacre are death, injury, or prison. But within the market solution
dissident leaders lower costs of protest actions. Opportunity costs persist,
but pale against more important life costs. Most leaders chose strikes or
general strikes to lower risks (Table 4). Dissident leaders, however, are
fallible, and some badly misjudged risks, notably in Burma and after the
Tiananmen massacre. Protesters stage post-massacre backlash to signal
opposition to the regime, but they use an action with a high probability of
safety. While repression may sometimes generate a tipping point over to
revolution, blazing guns create a rush to safety or a reluctance to leave home.
Strikes and general strikes minimize costs because people stay home, where
there is safety because of the enormous spatial diversity of residences. Doing
nothing but staying home may be construed as inaction, but if few venture out,
there is a high probability of arrest at home. If large numbers strike, there
is little any regime can do to respond. In a sense, safety at home in spatial
diversity is related to the safety in numbers of a large (at least 10,000)
demonstration or rally (DeNardo 1985).
The community solution is
the other modal choice dissident entrepreneurs made. Its two principal
components (Lichbach 1995) are common knowledge and common values, both of
which are critical to mobilization after harsh repression. The first element,
common knowledge, leads to communication of the massacre to people who might
not know about it, thus increasing the base of the dissident community. We
established above merely the probable numbers of people who knew one acting
dissident in a massacre. If those people tell others, then mutual ignorance
fades rapidly to mutual knowledge. Since these were urban events, it was not
necessary that communication be national in scope, but often it is. The West
Beirut massacre and its subsequent backlash illustrate this. Few remained alive
after the massacre to protest. The backlash occurred in the West Bank and Gaza
Strip, where Palestinian Arabs identified with those women and children who
were murdered.
The community solution’s
second component, common values, leads to a resolution of the selective-incentives problem. Lichbach
(1995, 1996) shows that common values can substitute for pecuniary incentives.
Protest after a massacre might be articulated by a dissident leader as “costs
are benefits” (Lichbach 1995, 123). If the opportunity of working is a benefit,
a strike might lower it. However, if a leader points out that everyone’s rights
are at issue when the state shoots its citizens, people may accept a brief
strike as a benefit that supercedes the cost of lost work.
All of this succeeds if and
only if many people act, and this is where pre-existing organizations play a
critical role. If labor unions, social movements, and civil rights
organizations can show that thousands of people will act, then still more
action is likely. This employs two more solution groups that Lichbach (1995,
1996) developed. Hierarchy is a particularly important solution group in tense
times such as after a massacre. Pre-existing dissident organizations, part of
the Contract solution, gain credibility when the regime kills citizens. Thrust
into a dangerous, possibly even Hobbesian-dilemma situation, there is a higher
probability that members of existing organizations will unite for action under
a persuasive leader. Student and labor organizations in Barcelona, Berlin,
Essen, Guinea-Bissau, Kwangju, Mexico City, San Salvador, Soweto, St.
Petersburg, Vienna and the Wujek mine were important elements in the design of
backlash action. Religious organizations played an equally vital role in Amristar
and Tehran, while civil rights and nationalist movements as well as political
parties were central to the backlash in the Barcelona, Ciskei, Derry, Dublin,
Escalante, Managua, Sharpeville, Tblisi, Temple Mount, Turkey, Uitenhage,
Vilnius and White/Red Bridge post-massacre mobilization.
Hierarchy and Contract are
most evident in the Guinea-Bissau massacre—the only one with no immediate
backlash. Instead of ordering mass protest, the labor organization deliberately
decided not to mobilize right away. Rather it began to forge a guerrilla
organization against the Portuguese occupying army. In Northern Ireland, IRA
hierarchy was the coordinating power in Derry in 1972, as noted above.
Interestingly, while one might think that citizens would resent an organization
that mobilized its members for a possible massacre. After all, many people
could be injured or killed. Quite the opposite is true. In every case, the
organization maintained full support of its surviving members, who blamed only
the state for repression.
Let us pause and sum up the
knowledge about our repression events we now have developed. First, we had more
than minimally necessary information transmission. Sufficient numbers of
members of every community probably learned about the massacre quickly enough
to be able to act. Second, leadership either survived or was immediately and
effectively replaced. Sikh leadership gave way unions and then to Mahatma
Gandhi and the Derry civil rights leadership to both flavors of the IRA. Both
of these replacements gained the movement more national and international
recognition. St. Petersburg labor and reform leaders stepped in for Father
Gapon and then wrested from a reluctant Tsar the concession of an elected
legislature. Third, we found ample use of general mobilization techniques. The
Market and Community solutions predominated (Lichbach 1995 and 1996), and
supplemented by the Hierarchy and Contract, formed the key methods of
mobilization and backlash against the state. It underscores the fact that
mobilization after a massacre is so much more challenging that it requires all
the solution groups from Lichbach (1995), not the more probable combination of
two. Mobilization after a massacre requires extraordinary efforts, but these
occur within the bounds of rational choice theory. We have discovered that a
single dissident might have good incentives to act after a massacre. Although
this notion seems counter-intuitive, a great deal of empirical evidence
supports it.
Collective action theory
operates at the micro level, while this paper uses aggregated data to make
theoretical inferences at the macro level. Evidence from a diverse sample of
harsh repression events indicates that all of the micro-level necessary
conditions for mobilization existed even after a brutal massacre. In addition,
the Bayesian updating test shows that dissidents consider repression important
in order to backlash after a massacre. While this might not be a definitive
test, it is general at least across 31 different repressions in space and time.
As noted above, I think findings would differ fundamentally in rural massacres,
principally because of the information transmission problem. But in urban
areas, people can be activated by dissident leaders to protest safely even
after a state massacre.
I have long contended that
protest is event driven. It would be difficult to argue the inverse in the
cases of mobilization presented in this paper. Post-event mobilization
accelerated day-by-day at a level that dwarfed the original repression event.
Why would any of these people choose to act if the harsh repression had not
occurred? That it occurred accounts for the fact that all four of Lichbach’s
(1995, 1996) solution groups had to be used for mobilization.
There is another sense in which events like these provide signal
benefits to dissident entrepreneurs. Anniversaries of massacres are great
mobilizing devices within the community solution. For decades following the
events in Amristar, Derry, and Sharpeville, protest leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi,
Gerry Adams, and the collective leadership of the African National Congress and
Pan African Congress successfully used the anniversaries of the events to
mobilize masses of dissidents.
After the massacre, backlash
occurs. It is driven, in terms of Lichbach’s (1995, 1996) solutions, by
dissidents enlisting leaders, easy urban information transmission reducing
ignorance, leaders shifting public goods to ominous public bads, reducing the
risks of action, and invoking pre-existing organizations to order adaptive and
“safe” tactics. In other words, there is nothing special about the time after
massacres that would require a change in the collective action theory. It
remains valid, even in this discomfited context.
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Amristar: Citizens of the Punjab
chafed under British military rule. General Dyer controlled Punjab and ordered
curfews and other limits on the Sikh citizens. 15,000 Sikhs gathered in a park
to protest on April 13, 1919. They held hands and stood peacefully in the park.
General Dyer and his troops came to the park and saw the 15,000 Sikhs standing
and holding hands. General Dyer ordered his troops to shoot. They killed 530
and wounded thousands. General Dyer later said, “It was a horrible duty I had
to perform. I think it was the merciful thing. I thought I should shoot well
and shoot strong, so that I or anybody else should not have to shoot again”
(Payne 1969, 340). Backlash was organized by Punjab union organizations in the
form of strikes and sabotage. Religious leaders urged all citizens to perform hartals,
a religious ritual of fasting and desisting from daily business; this became an
Indian version of a general strike against the British (Fein 1977). And of
course Gandhi used the massacre to build momentum for his own nonviolent, hartal-based
campaign.
Barcelona: Workers sought a 9-hour
day through a strike. Workers protesting on February 18, 1902 were shot by
troops: 100 dead, 300 injured and 500 arrested. A general strike ensued
throughout Catalonia in response to the repression. The Spanish Cortes
suspended the constitution during the conflict.
Berlin: Karl Liebknecht and Rosa
Luxemburg led the Spartakus (left-wing communists) rising in Berlin from
November 1918 through January 1919, when the two leaders were murdered. On
December 6, 1918 a Spartakus demonstration came upon a former-military
Freikorps (Free Corps) machine-gun nest. The Freikorps shot and killed 18 and
injured 30 as the Spartakus demonstrators ran away. The next two days, Saturday
and Sunday, saw huge backlash demonstrations escorted by armed workers for
protection (Dreetz et al. 1988).
Caracas: In February 1989 the
Venezuelan government imposed austerity and raised bus fares and food prices.
Hundreds of thousands of citizens protested these decisions across the country.
Our focus is in Caracas, where the principal protests occurred. Troops opened
fire on looters and demonstrators, killing 300 in the capital alone. Backlash
took the form of rock-throwing demonstrations as well as sniping.
Ciskei: 20,000 African National
Congress members demonstrated for democracy in Bisho, Ciskei, a “homeland” in
South Africa. Police opened fire, killing 28 and wounding 288. The next day
100,000 ANC members marched to Ciskei, Bishop Tutu led 2,000 in prayer, 12,000
attended a rally led by Nelson Mandela and 1,250 protested in other cities. The
following day 2,000 protested in Johannesburg.
Derry: The Northern Ireland Civil
Rights Association organized a civil rights demonstration on Sunday, January
30, 1972 in Derry, Ulster. Leaders secured agreement from the Provisional IRA
to stay away in order to insure a peaceful protest (Mullan 1997). As hundreds
walked toward a phalanx of British soldiers, the soldiers suddenly opened fire,
killing 13 and wounding 14. Horrified, the demonstrators broke up and tried to
aid the injured and remove the dead. Several of the dissident leaders moved
into a nearby vacant pub. An official IRA leader recommended a general strike
for the following days. A provisional IRA official seconded the motion and it
passed unanimously. Representative of the Catholic press were present at the
meeting. On Monday and Tuesday grocery stores and banks would be open one hour
each. The coordination power was virtually complete (McCann 1992).
Dublin 1914: A thousand people attended
the funeral of an Irish Volunteer (precursor to the IRA) fighter in the
Bachelor’s Walk section of Dublin on the eve of World War I. Occupying British
troops flanked the mourners. Suddenly, the troops opened fire, mistaking an officer’s
command for “Fire!”. In the aftermath, four were dead and 29 injured. Young
Irishmen surrounded the British military barracks in Dublin that night, walking
continuously around the building. On the following day Irish police resigned
from the force, refusing the order to disarm Volunteer fighters. The greatest
post-event backlash came on the third day when there were funerals of the four
killed.
Dublin 1920: The Irish Volunteers shot
dead many of the British military secret agents during the night of November
20-21, 1920. British auxiliary troops, the Black & Tans, were so outraged
by the killings that they drove an armored personnel carrier armed with a
machine gun into Croke Park stadium where a soccer game between Dublin and
Tipperary was going on. They shot and killed one soccer player and thirteen
fans as well as injuring hundreds as they sprayed the stands with machine-gun
bullets. The next 3 days saw many constables killed, but little public backlash
since the UK army was deployed looking for the Irish Volunteers who killed
their secret agents.
Escalante: Nation-wide protests on
the 13th anniversary of the imposition of martial law in the
Philippines. Troops shot and killed 21 and injured 30. A transport strike
paralyzed Escalante so no one could travel. But the strikers were lashing back
against the massacre. In a nearby town of Bacolod 30 thousand protested on the
third day.
Essen: During the French
occupation of the Ruhr area of Germany after World War I, the Germans protested
passively, mainly striking. On March 31, 1923, French military officers ordered
12 cars to be provided by the Krupp corporation in Essen. Krupp management
sounded the steam siren; workers heard it, stopped working and all 50,000
rallied outside the factory. After a two hour standoff, the French fired into a
group of Krupp workers, killing 13 immediately and causing others to flee
(Cornebise 1977). Krupp executives were arrested; the French also shut down
three newspapers the next day, Easter Sunday. Passive protest, mostly striking,
continued and peaked on April 10, the day the 13 workers were buried.
German Democratic Republic
workers’ rising: On 17 June 1953 East German workers rose against increased production
norms. The rising was general, not just in East Berlin. Police were overwhelmed
by as many as 300,000 workers demanding lower work standards and a free trade
union. The USSR Red Army intervened, killing 21 workers and injuring 167.
Nonetheless, the rising continued through backlash, especially in Magdeburg,
for three following days.
Guinea-Bissau: The African Party for
Independence of Guinea and Cape Verde ordered a dock strike in Pidiguiti on
August 3, 1959. Several hundred workers assembled, refused to work, and
demonstrated against Portuguese occupation. The Portuguese police started
shooting, killing 50 and injuring over 100. After this massacre, the
Guinea-Bissau labor organization decided not to use backlash, but instead
started a guerrilla war against Portugal some months later (Forrest 1992 and
Lopes 1987).
Kwangju: Students protested martial
law in Korea. On May 17, the army burst
into student dorms and beat students studying for exams. At 10:00 on the 18th,
a shout of “End martial law!” sparked the demonstration. At lunchtime, business
people mingled and joined with the student protesters. Riot police,
outnumbered, were pushed back. A sit-in demonstration began. Suddenly armored
personnel carriers brought paratroopers with rifles and attached bayonets.
First the paratroopers fired tear gas into the demonstration. Then they swung
clubs at demonstrators, aiming for the head. They used their bayonets to tear
off women’s clothes, then stomped and pounded on the most sensitive parts
of the women’s bodies. They chased
dissidents who tried to flee and then beat them. The soldiers had removed all
identification of their regiment or name. They had uniforms, but no identity.
This was a state-adaptive change from a year before, in Pusan, when dissidents
had been able to distinguish their repressors’ regiments. The uprising lasted
until May 27.
Managua: The opposition
Conservative party challenged Somoza, the President and dictator, to have a
free election. The National Guard, Nicaragua’s military, fired into the
Conservative demonstrators, killing 34 and injuring 100. The battle then
shifted to a hotel where the dissidents had sought refuge. The dissidents
remained there for 20 hours, then agreed to leave barring additional shooting.
Upon their departure, the head of the Conservative party called a general
strike.
Mendiola Bridge: Philippine farmers
peacefully seeking land reform were shot on a bridge by military forces
protecting a palace in Manila (Kessler 1989). President Aquino apologized for
the massacre the following day.
Mexico City: 10,000 students rallied
peacefully as part of a student strike at 18:00 on October 2, 1968. Hundreds of
police and military surrounded the students and began shooting. An estimated
400 were killed, hundreds injured, and over 2000 detained without trial (Story
1986; Thompson 2001). Backlash comprised the continuation of the student
strike, burning 3 buses the day after and moving out in brigades (small groups)
on the second day. Protest leaders deliberately eschewed public demonstrations
as “suicide” (New York Times 10/5/68). The strike continued the next
day, a Sunday.
San Salvador: Extreme-leftists kidnapped
foreign people and occupied two embassies. Approximately 500 students staged a
supportive demonstration in the front of a cathedral. Troops arrived and opened
fire, killing 23 and wounding 70 (Commission for the Defense of Human Rights in
Central America 1990). The Red Cross was left to collect the bodies and
transport the wounded. The next day there was tentative backlash by about 5,000
people. The second day there was a general strike and a funeral with 18,000
people in attendance. The third day saw more funerals, more occupations, and
four women dissidents shot dead while putting up a sign.
Sharpeville: the Pan African Congress
organized a protest against a new law requiring women to have a pass to walk
into other villages or regions. The daylong passive protest occurred on March
21, 1960 all over South Africa; mostly women participated. In Sharpeville,
police panicked and starting shooting at the protesters. In all 67 women were
killed and 186 were wounded, most shot in the back, running away from the
police. The massacre stunned South Africa. Large backlash demonstrations
organized both by the Pan African Congress as well as the African National
Congress followed the next few days.
Soweto: On June 16, 1976 15,000
school children gathered in Soweto to protest against Afrikaans, the language
of their oppressors, used in their textbooks. The students confronted riot
police who opened fire at them. Approximately one thousand children were killed
and three times as many were wounded. The backlash against this massacre was
large, even as riot police continued to shoot at protesters.
St. Petersburg: Father Gapon led thousands
of workers seeking more food and higher wages to the Winter Palace on Sunday,
January 22, 1905. The protest had been announced; even so, the Tsar’s forces
shot at the marchers, killing 175 and wounding 625. Father Gapon was lost, but
not killed, in the melee, and most marchers fled the scene. Backlash, mostly in
the form of general strikes, was strong against this Bloody Sunday. It led
eventually to Russia’s first elected parliament (Duma).
Tblisi: Georgians seeking
independence rallied from Saturday through Tuesday on Rustaveli Square in
Tblisi. After 21:00 on Tuesday tanks moved in and opened fire, in an attempt to
clear the square. The toll: 19 killed and 36 injured. The USSR claimed that 75
soldiers and police were injured as well. Authorities imposed a 23:00-6:00
curfew. In response 15 to 20 activists then distributed leaflets calling for a
general strike. Schools and universities closed in a show of solidarity against
Soviet repression (Associated Press 4/13/89).
Tehran: In the latter phase of the
Iranian revolution, the military imposed martial law and precluded protest on
September 7, 1978. A demonstration of 20,000 already planned for September 8 in
Tehran was mobilizing on Jaleh Square for the following day. Many demonstrators
were unaware of martial law. Troops shot dead over 500 protesters and injured
more than 4,000. Many strikes and demonstrations took place the following day,
including one in Qum where one demonstrator was killed. There were 100 arsons
as well. On the second day there was a large funeral for the demonstrators who
were killed, and lesser backlash developed on the third day. All three days saw
continuing strikes. According to Shia Islamic law, larger backlash formed on the seventh day after the massacre.
Temple Mount: 3,000 Palestinians massed
on Temple Mount in Jerusalem on October 8, 1990. They challenged police with
rocks. Police shot dead 20 Palestinians and wounded 140. Palestinian officials
organized a week-long general strike in response. On October 9 there were
rallies in refugee camps as well as funerals. Hundreds of Palestinian youth
challenged Israeli police on October 10. 13 were injured in these clashes. Many
groups sought to regain Temple Mount on October 11, but only women and clerics
were allowed by the Israeli defense force.
Tiananmen: Under the banner of the
Federation of Beijing Autonomous Unions, students led the Chinese democracy
movement in 1989. The federation became more active and public as spring turned
to summer, and students began to occupy Tiananmen Square, a central space in
Beijing. The regime mobilized troops from outside Beijing and brought them in
on June 4, 1989. Most students had fled the square before the soldiers’
arrival; nonetheless 2,600 were killed and 3,000 were wounded. Subsequent
backlash was active, culminating on the third day as masses of dissidents held
a central bridge in Beijing. Backlash casualties resulted from the deaths
of 30 dissidents who were crushed as
they lay in protest on railroad tracks in front of a locomotive. The state had
ordered the engineer to drive forward.
Turkey: Kurds celebrated New Roz
(new year) on March 21, 1992 in southeast Turkey. Police and troops in Cizre,
Sirnak province and Batman killed 27 demonstrators, while in Istanbul, Ankara
and Imir 38 died. On the following days 15,000 PKK guerrillas battled Turkish
troops, bombed police stations, and supported Kurdish urban demonstrators.
Uitenhage: On the 25th anniversary of the Sharpeville massacre
South Africans were marching to a funeral of dissidents. Police opened fire on
them, killing 19. During the next two days 18 homes of police officers were
burned and a demonstration in Port Elizabeth developed. Police came in and
clashed with the demonstrators, killing a man and a woman. On the third day,
funerals of three dead protesters drew 30,000 mourners (New China News
Agency and United Press International 3/24/85).
Vienna: Workers were incensed by
the acquittal of police who were tried
for killing a worker and a 10-year old child in Burgenland. Thousands of
unarmed demonstrators rioted and burned the justice ministry on July 15, 1927.
Police and troops shot into the crowd, killing 85 and wounding more than a
thousand protesters. A 24-hour general strike followed. Workers occupied
several districts of the city; Red Guards from the labor federation controlled
main highways, and 500,000 workers marched on the Ringstrasse on July 16.
Vilnius: When Lithuania’s National
Salvation committee declared independence at 11:00 pm on January 12, 1991,
Soviet paratroops were dispatched to the Vilnius television station and tower.
They shot into the crowd protecting the Salvation committee and the television
station, killing 13 and injuring hundreds.
West Beirut: On September 14, 1982,
Bachier Gemayel, head of the Lebanese Phalangist Party, was killed by a bomb
placed in the party headquarters. On September 16 and 17, Phalangist forces
under Israeli Defense Force control and command of Defense Minister Ariel
Sharon systematically massacred over 3,000 Palestinian and Lebanese women and
children in and around the Shatila and Sabra refugee camps. Backlash occurred
in Palestine, i.e., the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip.
White/Red Bridge: On March 16, 1988
dissidents gathered on Rangoon’s White bridge to protest the military
dictatorship. Soldiers opened fire and killed 142, injuring 301. Thereafter dissidents
changed the name to Red bridge in a symbolic gesture to the blood that flowed
that day. Repression continued during backlash. On the third day the regime
imposed a curfew and closed all the universities (Lintner 1990).
Wujek: When martial law was imposed
in Poland on December 13, 1981, the Solidarity trade union was proscribed, as
were strikes and protests. Miners held out in Wujek by remaining underground.
Finally, on December 16, troops came to oust the miners and end the occupation.
The miners resisted. Troops opened fire, killing 16 miners and wounding 39.
Backlash continued in other mines and enterprises for almost two weeks before
all protest died down finally dropped to insignificant levels.
Table 1
Repression Events
|
Event |
Date |
Number of Dissidents |
Dead |
Injured |
Source |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Amristar,
India |
4/13/
1919 |
15,000 |
530 |
3,001 |
Fein
1977; Furneax 1963; Times and Irish Times |
|
Barcelona
Workers’ Massacre |
2/18/1902 |
3,001 |
100 |
300 |
Manchester
Guardian, 2/1902; Grant 1993 |
|
Berlin
Spartakus |
12/6/1918 |
1,000 |
18 |
30 |
Ettinger
1986; Ritter & Miller 1968 |
|
Caracas
Caracazo |
2/27/1989 |
30,000 |
300 |
800 |
Associated
Press; UPI |
|
Ciskei
massacre |
9/7/1992 |
20,000 |
28 |
288 |
Xinhau;
UPI; Reuters |
|
Derry
Bloody Sunday |
1/30/1972 |
3,000 |
13 |
14 |
Bell
1993; Mullan 1997 |
|
Dublin
Bachelor’s Walk |
7/26/1914 |
1,000 |
4 |
29 |
Jackson
1999 |
|
Dublin
Bloody Sunday |
11/21/1920 |
30,000 |
14 |
301 |
Coogan
1992 |
|
Escalante,
Philippines |
9/20/1985 |
15,000 |
21 |
30 |
Associated
Press |
|
Essen
massacre |
3/3/1923 |
50,000 |
13 |
31 |
Zum
Ruhreinbruch 1976 |
|
GDR
Worker rising |
6/17/1953 |
100,000 |
21 |
187 |
Baring
1983; Spittmann & Fricke 1982 |
|
Guinea-Bissau
dock strike |
8/3/1959 |
1,000 |
50 |
101 |
Forrest
1992 |
|
Kwangju,
South Korea |
5/18/1980 |
30,500 |
216 |
650 |
Clark
1988 |
|
Managua
election massacre |
1/22/1967 |
6,000 |
34 |
101 |
Keesing’s
Archive, 1967 |
|
Mendiola
Bridge, Philippines |
1/22/1987 |
10,000 |
18 |
301 |
Davis
1989 |
|
Mexico
City student massacre |
10/2/1968 |
10,000 |
400 |
301 |
New
York Times; Story 1986; http://www.wlu.edu/~jbarnett/212/massacre.htm |
|
San
Salvador Cathedral |
5/8/1979 |
500 |
23 |
70 |
AP
5/1979; Cockcroft 1996 |
|
Sharpeville
massacre |
3/21/1960 |
6,000 |
67 |
186 |
Mandela
1994; Meredith 1977; Pogrund 1991 |
|
Soweto
riot |
6/16/1976 |
16,000 |
1,000 |
3,000 |
Mandela
1994; New York Times |
|
St.
Petersburg Bloody Sunday |
1/22/1905 |
16,000 |
175 |
625 |
Sablinsky
1976; Suhr 1989 |
|
Tblisi,
Georgia |
4/9/1989 |
3,001 |
19 |
36 |
AP
4/13/89 |
|
Tehran
Jaleh Square |
9/8/1978 |
20,000 |
501 |
4,001 |
Daneshvar
1996; Stempel 1981; Zabih 1988 |
|
Temple
Mount |
10/8/1990 |
3,001 |
20 |
140 |
Associated
Press; Xinhau; UPI 1990 |
|
Tiananmen |
6/4/1989 |
6,000 |
2,600 |
3,000 |
Ming
Pao News 1989; Salisbury 1989 |
|
Turkey
Kurd massacre |
3/21/1992 |
3,001 |
80 |
67 |
Xinhau;
AP; UPI |
|
Uitenhage |
3/21/1985 |
3500 |
19 |
31 |
Reuters
3/22/85 |
|
Vienna
Black Friday |
7/15/1927 |
300,001 |
85 |
1,057 |
Botz
1983, 1987 |
|
Vilnius,
Lithuania |
12/13/91 |
501 |
14 |
170 |
Lieven
1994 |
|
West
Beirut |
9/16/1982 |
5001 |
3,001 |
0 |
Petran
1987 |
|
White/Red
Bridge, Burma |
3/16/1988 |
3,001 |
142 |
301 |
Lintner
1990 |
|
Wujek
coal mine |
12/16/1981 |
3,001 |
16 |
39 |
Table 2
Backlash Mobilization and
Casualties
|
Event |
Event
N |
Post
Day 1 N |
Post
Day 2 N |
Post
Day 3 N |
Dead |
Injured |
Source |
|
Amristar |
15,000 |
30,000 |
30,000 |
60,000 |
0 |
0 |
Fein
1997; Times; Irish Times |
|
Barcelona |
3,001 |
80,000 |
100,000 |
100,00 |
0 |
0 |
Manchester
Guardian, 2/1902 |
|
Berlin |
3,001 |
150000 |
250,000 |
0 |
0 |
0 |
Laschitza
1982 |
|
Caracas |
30,000 |
60,000 |
45,000 |
30,000 |
41 |
300 |
Associated
Press; UPI |
|
Ciskei |
20,000 |
103,250 |
7,008 |
1,008 |
0 |
0 |
Xinhau;
UPI |
|
Derry |
3,000 |
15,000 |
18,000 |
20,000 |
0 |
0 |
Irish
Times 1972 |
|
Dublin
1914 |
1,000 |
3,000 |
6,000 |
9,000 |
0 |
0 |
De
Rosa 1990; Times 1914 |
|
Dublin
1920 |
15,000 |
301 |
301 |
301 |
0 |
0 |
Irish
Times, 11/1920 |
|
Escalante |
15,000 |
95,000 |
33,001 |
600,001 |
4 |
3 |
Associated
Press 1985 |
|
Essen |
50,000 |
300,000 |
300,000 |
300,000 |
0 |
0 |
Cornebise
1977 |
|
GDR |
100,000 |
300,000 |
250,000 |
200,000 |
0 |
0 |
Baring
1983; Ference 1994; Spittmann & Fricke 1982 |
|
Guinea-Bissau |
1,000 |
0 |
0 |
0 |
0 |
0 |
Forrest
1992; Lopes 1987 |
|
Kwangju |
30,500 |
100,001 |
200,001 |
500,001 |
0 |
0 |
Clark
1988 |
|
Managua |
6,000 |
3,000 |
30,000 |
30,000 |
1 |
2 |
Facts
on File 1967 |
|
Mendiola
Bridge |
10,000 |
300,001 |
300,001 |
300,001 |
3 |
0 |
Davis
1989 |
|
Mexico
City |
10,000 |
150,301 |
170,000 |
150,000 |
0 |
0 |
New
York Times 10/3-6/1968 |
|
San
Salvador |
500 |
5,000 |
38,000 |
15,346 |
4 |
0 |
Associated
Press, 5/1979 |
|
Sharpeville |
6,000 |
15,000 |
30,000 |
30,300 |
0 |
0 |
Progrund
1991 |
|
Soweto |
10,000 |
50,000 |
70,000 |
30,000 |
109 |
1,100 |
New
York Times |
|
St.
Peters-burg |
16,000 |
30,000 |
300,000 |
300,000 |
0 |
0 |
Sablinsky
1976; Suhr 1989 |
|
Tblisi |
3,001 |
30,001 |
30,001 |
30,001 |
0 |
0 |
Associated
Press, 4/13/89 |
|
Tehran |
20,000 |
30,301 |
40,000 |
30,000 |
1 |
0 |
Times
9/1978 |
|
Temple
Mount |
3,001 |
2,060,000 |
2,023,001 |
2,021,150 |
0 |
13 |
Associated
Press; UPI; Xinhau, 10/1990 |
|
Tiananmen |
6,000 |
30,000 |
30,000 |
500,100 |
30 |
301 |
Ming
Pao News 1989; Salisbury 1989 |
|
Turkey |
3,001 |
15,000 |
15,000 |
16,000 |
8 |
0 |
Xinhau;
AP; Reuters |
|
Uitenhage |
3,500 |
1,001 |
1,001 |
30,000 |
2 |
0 |
UPI,
3/24/85 |
|
Vienna |
30,001 |
80,001 |
400,001 |
30,001 |
0 |
0 |
New
York Times |
|
Vilnius |
501 |
140,001 |
300,001 |
30,0001 |
0 |
1 |
BBC
1991 |
|
West
Beirut |
5,001 |
100,000 |
100,000 |
90,000 |
0 |
31 |
United
Press International 9/20/82 |
|
White/Red
Bridge |
3,001 |
2,000 |
20,000 |
0 |
135 |
1,701 |
Lintner
1990 |
|
Wujek
mine |
3,001 |
28,993 |
315,855 |
353,127 |
13 |
1,039 |

Figure 1: Mean mobilization levels per day
Table 3
Probable Numbers of Citizens Who Knew a Protester in the Repressive Events
|
Event |
Number |
Event |
Number |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Amristar |
1,500,000 |
Mexico City |
1,000,000 |
|
Barcelona |
300,100 |
San Salvador |
50,000 |
|
Berlin |
100,000 |
Sharpeville |
600,000 |
|
Caracas |
3,000,000 |
Soweto |
1,000,000 |
|
Ciskei |
2,000,000 |
St. Petersburg |
1,600,000 |
|
Derry |
300,000 |
Tblisi |
300,100 |
|
Dublin 1914 |
100,000 |
Tehran |
2,000,000 |
|
Dublin 1920 |
3,000,000 |
Temple Mount |
300,100 |
|
Escalante |
1,500,000 |
Tiananmen |
600,000 |
|
Essen |
5,000,000 |
Turkey |
300,100 |
|
GDR |
10,000,000 |
Uitenhage |
350,000 |
|
Guinea-Bissau |
100,000 |
Vienna |
3,000,000 |
|
Kwangju |
3,050,000 |
Vilnius |
50,100 |
|
Managua |
600,000 |
West Beirut |
500,100 |
|
Mendiola Bridge |
1,000,000 |
White Bridge/Red Bridge |
300,100 |
|
|
|
Wujek mine |
300,100 |
Table 4
Event and Backlash Tactics
|
Event |
Event
Tactics |
Backlash
Tactics |
|
Amristar |
rally |
hartals (general strike) &
rail strike |
|
Barcelona |
demonstration |
general
strike |
|
Berlin |
demonstration |
demonstration
with armed workers |
|
Caracas |
demonstration |
demonstration
& terror |
|
Ciskei |
demonstration |
rally
and occupation |
|
Derry |
demonstration |
general
strike |
|
Dublin
1914 |
march |
rallies
and funeral processions |
|
Dublin
1920 |
watching
soccer game |
arson |
|
Escalante |
demonstration |
general
strike |
|
Essen |
factory
rally |
general
strike |
|
GDR |
demonstration |
general
strike |
|
Guinea-Bissau |
dock
strike |
none;
reorganized for guerrilla war |
|
Kwangju |
demonstration |
demonstration
& student strike |
|
Managua |
election
rally |
general
strike |
|
Mendiola
Bridge |
demonstration |
demonstration |
|
Mexico
City |
demonstration |
student
strike & arson |
|
San
Salvador |
rally |
general
strike & demonstration |
|
Sharpeville |
demonstration |
rallies
and strikes |
|
Soweto |
demonstration |
riots
and strikes |
|
St.
Petersburg |
demonstration |
general
strike |
|
Tblisi |
rally |
general
strike |
|
Tehran |
demonstration |
demonstration
& general oil strike |
|
Temple
Mount |
demonstration |
general
strike, marches, riots |
|
Tiananmen |
occupation |
occupation |
|
Turkey |
demonstration |
terror
& guerrilla action |
|
Uitenhage |
demonstration |
demonstration
& arson |
|
Vienna |
demonstration |
general
strike, occupation & demonstration |
|
Vilnius |
rally |
general
strike & demonstration |
|
West
Beirut |
none |
demonstration |
|
White/Red
Bridge, Burma |
demonstration |
demonstration |
|
Wujek
mine |
occupation |
occupation |
Table 5
The Risks of Backlash
Event |
Backlash Risks |
|
Amristar |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Barcelona |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Berlin |
Free
Corps shooting and clash with armed workers |
|
Caracas |
open
protest repression; police work against terror |
|
Ciskei |
open
protest repression |
|
Derry |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Dublin
1914 |
open
protest repression |
|
Dublin
1920 |
police
work against terror |
|
Escalante |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Essen |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
GDR |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Guinea-Bissau |
none;
reorganized for guerrilla war |
|
Kwangju |
open
protest repression & identified students
striking |
|
Managua |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Mendiola
Bridge |
open
protest repression |
|
Mexico
City |
identified
students striking & police action against terror |
|
San
Salvador |
open
protest repression & identified workers striking |
|
Sharpeville |
open
protest repression & identified workers striking |
|
Soweto |
open
protest repression & identified workers striking |
|
St.
Petersburg |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Tblisi |
identified
workers striking; later punishment likely |
|
Tehran |
open
protest repression & identified workers striking |
|
Temple
Mount |
open
protest repression |
|
Tiananmen |
open
protest repression & identified students striking |
|
Turkey |
police
& military action against terror |
|
Uitenhage |
open
protest repression & police action against terror |
|
Vienna |
open
protest repression & identified workers striking |
|
Vilnius |
open
protest repression & identified workers striking |
|
West
Beirut |
open
protest repression |
|
White/Red
Bridge, Burma |
open
protest repression |
|
Wujek
mine |
martial
law police action against strikers & occupiers |

Figure 2: Mobilization after
harsh repression with deaths and injuries in the first two days: Caracas,
Mendiola Bridge, Soweto, Tehran, Temple Mount, Turkey, Uitenhage, White/Red
Bridge, and Wujek events.

Figure 3: Mobilization after harsh repression
with no deaths or injuries in the first two days.
1 The events in Table 1 are the only twentieth century events I could locate that satisfied the selection criteria. In this sense it is not a true sample, but more like a population of urban massacres during a century. Numbers ending in “1” indicate estimates. We discovered during our NSF coding that when reporters write “hundreds” or “thousands” of mobilization, then a conservative interval estimate is three, i.e., hundreds = 301, thousands = 3001, and so forth.
2 Note that the mean level of mobilization in backlash repression events (Figure 2) is higher than in the non-repression events (Figure 3). This is because of the large number of Palestinians who conducted a general strike after the Temple Mount massacre. None of the non-repressed events had as many participants in relative safety.