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"You represent the majority of people not only in the United States who overwhelmingly in the public opinion polls, say they're against the war, but of course the majority of people in the world," said peace activist Medea Benjamin.
As the one-man protest of activist Guido Reichstadter reached its fifth day, 168 feet above the Anacostia River on the Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge in Washington, DC, the anti-war activist is receiving praise both at home and worldwide as he said Tuesday he would go another day even though he has run out of both food and water.
"We are profoundly touched," said CodePink co-founder Medea Benjamin during a visit Monday, standing below Reichstadter's perch at the top of one of the bridge's arches, which he has been occupying since last Friday in protest of President Donald Trump's war on Iran and the rapid proliferation of unregulated artificial intelligence.
"It's such a beautiful act of profound civil disobedience that is making waves all over the world," said Benjamin in a video clip posted on social media by documentary filmmaker Ford Fischer.
2) Guido Reichstadter spoke by phone with Medea Benjamin of CODEPINK, saying he's "touched" by their support.
"We are just amazed that you did this!" Benjamin told him. "Just something beyond our belief."
Police over a loudspeaker continued to implore Reichstadter to accept… pic.twitter.com/cnBXv0mNTy
— Ford Fischer (@FordFischer) May 4, 2026
Reichstadter climbed up to the arch on Friday and unfurled a long black banner that he says represents the "shame and grief" of those who have been forced to be complicit in the US-Israeli war on Iran.
He released a statement saying he was demanding "an immediate end to the Trump regime’s illegal war on Iran and the removal of the regime’s power through mass nonviolent direct action and non-cooperation.”
The 45-year-old activist and father of two has staged other high-profile acts of civil disobedience in the past, but this one garnered the attention of Explosive Media, an independent media group that has released several viral videos skewering the Trump administration's deeply unpopular war. Reichstadter appeared in a video released by the group over the weekend, portrayed as a heroic LEGO figure.
As Benjamin spoke to Reichstadter, police continued trying to convince him to climb down from the arch, which he said he planned to leave Tuesday afternoon.
Now: Police get some exercise as they monitor Guido Reichstadter, now on his fifth day of occupying the Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge in a one-man protest against the Iran War and AI proliferation. https://t.co/DFkhA6zABG pic.twitter.com/0dumNmXk20
— Ford Fischer (@FordFischer) May 5, 2026
He survived on Chex Mix and dried cranberries for the first day of his occupation, before running out on Saturday. He ran out of water Monday afternoon and was almost out of phone battery, but Fischer reported that he "managed to get something working."
Reichstadter said that he would stay for "possibly another day or two."
With reporters assembled nearby, Benjamin asked him if he wanted to share any message about the war in Iran, in which hostilities were continuing this week in the Strait of Hormuz, despite Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth's insistence that a ceasefire that was reached last month is holding.
"We have to end it," said Reichstadter.
"We're so worried that the bombing is going to start once again," said Benjamin, "and that's why you being up there is so important at this moment, because you represent the majority of people not only in the United States who overwhelmingly in the public opinion polls, say they're against the war, but of course the majority of people in the world... So what you're doing is on behalf of people all over the world, who are saying, 'This war was unprovoked, it's illegal, it's reckless, and it has to end."
More than 60% of Americans view Trump's war on Iran as a "mistake," according to a Washington Post/ABC News/Ipsos poll released the day Reichstadter climbed on top of the bridge.
Action isn't only about pressuring institutions anymore. It's increasingly about jamming the system, slowing it down, or breaking its rhythm. In plain terms, we've shifted from representative politics toward something more like direct pressure.
For decades, American politics rested on one big, mostly unquestioned idea: Real change happens through the system. You vote, you lobby, you go to court, you work the parties. Even the biggest protest movements eventually tried to plug themselves back into those official channels. But lately—especially since Donald Trump burst onto the scene—that old assumption has been crumbling fast.
What we're seeing now, in things like the “May Day Strong” actions, isn't just more people protesting. It's a deeper change in how politics actually works. Action isn't only about pressuring institutions anymore. It's increasingly about jamming the system, slowing it down, or breaking its rhythm. In plain terms, we've shifted from representative politics toward something more like direct pressure.
The key driver here is the collapse of trust in institutions. One of the most striking things about Trumpism isn't any single policy—it's the relentless way it attacked the legitimacy of the middlemen: the media as “the enemy of the people,” judges as biased, elections as rigged. These weren't just throwaway lines. Over time, they sank in and reshaped how a lot of people view the system's ability to actually deliver.
When folks stop believing the formal channels can handle their grievances, they start looking for other levers. That's when direct action, civil disobedience, and economic disruption stop looking fringe and start feeling logical.
“May Day Strong” feels like a live experiment. It's testing how well networked groups can mobilize and whether hitting the economy where it hurts can deliver lasting political leverage. The answers will matter a lot for where democracy goes next.
“May Day Strong” sits right at that crossroads. The call for “No Work, No Shopping” isn't subtle. It says: If real power flows through the economy, then choking those flows becomes a form of politics. On the surface it seems straightforward, but it quietly rewrites the textbook definition of power.
In the old model, power lived in government buildings and political offices. You tried to influence them. In the emerging one, power is scattered across economic networks and social connections. So the game moves from representation to targeted disruption—from institutional politics to what you might call infrastructural politics.
This isn't purely ideological. It also grows out of how people actually experience daily life now: gig work, shaky jobs, disappearing benefits, and costs that keep climbing. When the ground under your feet feels unstable, waiting for institutions to fix things starts to feel naive.
So where does Trumpism fit? It didn't invent this distrust, but it poured gasoline on it. By hammering institutional norms, torching media credibility, and sharpening polarization, it helped create an environment where formal mechanisms look increasingly broken. In that kind of atmosphere, taking it to the streets—or to the supply chains—doesn't feel radical. It feels like common sense.
Still, there's real tension. Disrupting people's everyday lives is a double-edged sword. If folks see it as standing up for justice, it can build wide support. If it just looks like chaos that hurts regular people trying to get by, it can spark a strong backlash.
That tension defines politics in this post-trust era. Legitimacy no longer comes neatly from institutions. It gets fought over in public opinion—and more and more, the street has become the arena where that fight happens.
In that light, “May Day Strong” feels like a live experiment. It's testing how well networked groups can mobilize and whether hitting the economy where it hurts can deliver lasting political leverage. The answers will matter a lot for where democracy goes next.
If direct disruption keeps replacing traditional institutional routes, the line between protest and actual governance starts to blur. Suddenly, the power to halt things becomes its own kind of authority. That opens doors for groups that felt shut out—but it also raises the odds of deeper instability.
At the end of the day, this isn't simply politics getting more extreme. It's politics changing its fundamental shape. It's no longer just a contest to control the institutions. It's becoming a struggle to control the flows—of information, money, goods, and attention.
Trumpism didn't create this shift, but it accelerated it. By eroding trust and heating up divisions, it helped make direct action feel less like an outlier and more like a normal part of how politics gets done.
The big question now isn't how institutions can manage protest. It's whether institutions can hold onto their central role at all.
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.