How to Be a Dissident: Gal Beckerman on Why Pessimism Is the Most Important Human Quality
Keen On America
Is Dissidence Ideological or Humanistic?
Gal resists ideological labels, arguing dissidence often springs from shared human dignity beyond politics.
“Pessimism is not fatalism. Fatalism is the belief that things will always necessarily be worse. Pessimism is the belief that things will probably get worse. Within that ‘probably,’ it opens up space for action.” — Gal Beckerman
In the first months of Trump II, Gal Beckerman watched American society do something that shocked him: comply. In one pathetic example after another, prominent law firms, universities, and senior federal employees buckled to every Trumpian whim. America appeared unable to resist authoritarianism. There were no dissidents.
Thus How to Be a Dissident. Beckerman’s new manual of resistance is inspired by history’s more insistent dissenters — from Mandelstam and Solzhenitsyn to Navalny, Ai Weiwei, Thoreau, Havel, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, and demonstrators on the streets of Minneapolis. The quiet manifesto focuses on what Beckerman considers the ten most essential qualities of how to be a dissident: Be alone. Be pessimistic. Be funny. Be reckless. Be watchful.
Pessimism, above all. Not fatalism — the belief that things will always necessarily be worse — but the belief that things will probably get worse. Optimism, in Beckerman’s mind, undermines urgency and thus enables passivity. Pessimism forces resistance. It’s the first lesson in how to be a dissident.
Five Takeaways
• Moral Nausea: Beckerman’s term for the feeling most of us recognise but most of us suppress: seeing something wrong — a neighbour treated badly, a homeless person in a terrible situation, a dead child in a newspaper — and knowing ourselves somehow implicated. Most of us swallow it back down. We don’t do anything. We try not to think about it. The dissident is the person who doesn’t. What separates them, Hannah Arendt argued after studying Germans who resisted the Nazis, is a single question: can I live with myself? If the answer is no — if living with myself would mean living with a murderer — the dissident acts. That question, and the refusal to avoid it, is what makes a dissident a dissident.
• The Pre-Political: Havel’s definition of where dissidence begins: not in ideology or revolution, but in the defence of whatever allows a human life to feel normal. For Havel, it started with a rock band — the Plastic People of the Universe, arrested for playing unauthorised concerts in communist Czechoslovakia. They weren’t political. They sang about drinking beer. But they were gathering people together outside state sanction, and that was enough. For Iranian dissidents: being able to drive unaccompanied, or not cover one’s hair. For the Tiananmen tank man: getting home to make dinner. The dissident defends those pre-political conditions — the normal life — when the state moves to violate them.
• Mandelstam’s Answer: Osip Mandelstam composed a poem mocking Stalin in the early 1930s — at the height of Stalin’s repressive era — and never wrote it down. He repeated it to his wife, Nadezhda, night after night in bed until she had memorised it. When it reached the secret police, he was arrested and brought to the Lubyanka. The interrogator asked: why did you do this? He could have denied it. Blamed his wife. Said it was a game of telephone. Instead he said: I wrote it because I hate fascism. It’s as simple as that. Beckerman opens the book with this moment because it captures the dissident at their most elemental — a man who, when asked the Arendt question, answered honestly.
• Navalny Goes Back: After being poisoned by Putin and spending months recovering in Germany, Navalny returned to Russia, knowing almost certainly that in the best case he would be in prison for a very long time, and that Putin would most likely find another way to kill him. Which he did. Why go back? Navalny’s answer, in his memoir: he had made a promise to the Russian people. How could he stand on the sidelines while asking others to sacrifice so much? The scene Beckerman describes from the prison: Navalny finds a moment away from the cameras, pulls his wife Yulia aside, and tells her he’s accepted that he’s probably not getting out alive. She says: I know. I’ve thought the same thing, and I’ve accepted it. He kisses her. He needs to know she isn’t engaging in magical thinking. Optimism, in this context, would not have helped him.
• Be Pessimistic: Beckerman’s most counterintuitive prescription, and his favourite. The assumption is that anyone engaged in quixotic world-changing behaviour must be an optimist. Beckerman argues the opposite. Pessimism — not fatalism — is healthier. The distinction matters: fatalism says things will always necessarily be worse. Pessimism says things will probably be worse. The “probably” leaves room for action. If you assume someone else will solve climate change, or that authoritarianism will inevitably collapse, you wait. The pessimist acts now, with what time they have, because they know things probably won’t work out otherwise. It is, Beckerman suggests, akin to accepting death: the ultimate pessimistic reality we all face, which is also the only thing that makes each day matter.
About the Guest
Gal Beckerman is a staff writer at The Atlantic and the author of How to Be a Dissident (Crown, April 21, 2026), The Quiet Before: On the Unexpected Origins of Radical Ideas, and When They Come for Us, We’ll Be Gone: The Epic Struggle to Save Soviet Jewry (Sami Rohr Prize winner). He has a PhD from Columbia University and lives in Brooklyn.
References:
• How to Be a Dissident by Gal Beckerman (Crown, April 21, 2026).
• Nadezhda Mandelstam, Hope Against Hope — the memoir Beckerman calls one of his favourite books.
• Alexei Navalny, Patriot — the memoir Beckerman draws on for the prison scene with Yulia.
• Episode 2869: Jacob Mchangama on The Future of Free Speech — the companion episode on the crisis of free speech that contextualises this one.
About Keen On America
Nobody asks more awkward questions than the Anglo-American writer and filmmaker Andrew Keen. In Keen On America, Andrew brings his pointed Transatlantic wit to making sense of the United States — hosting daily interviews about the history and future of this now venerable Republic. With nearly 2,900 episodes since the show launched on TechCrunch in 2010, Keen On America is the most prolific intellectual interview show in the history of podcasting.
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