In a recent article, full of insight, Professor Bill Quigley identified ten different illegal actions police often take 'to prevent people from exercising their constitutional rights' to take nonviolent action to address a grievance. He noted that these police tactics are commonly used by law enforcement agencies in big protests across the US. See '10 Illegal Police Actions to Watch for in Ferguson' http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bill-quigley/ten-illegal-police-action_b_6171964.html

I would like to complement Professor Quigley's fine article by identifying ways in which the risk of police or military personnel using illegal and violent tactics can be minimized and, in many cases, thwarted, wherever in the world the nonviolent action takes place.

Stephen Hawking is known as the brilliant physicist who slumps in a wheelchair and speaks through a computer-generated voice. In The Theory of Everything, we first meet the Brit when he’s a still gawky university student bicycling wildly through the streets of Cambridge.  

He’s already brilliant, however. That becomes obvious when a professor assigns his class a series of 10 questions, “each more impregnable than the last.” Though his fellow students are stymied, Stephen returns with the correct and densely complex equations scribbled on the back of a railway schedule.   

Directed by James Marsh (Man on Wire), The Theory of Everything is based on a book written by the scientist’s first wife, Jane Hawking. That helps to explain why it’s more interested in Stephen Hawking the husband and family man than in Stephen Hawking the scientist.  

In the first half, both sides of his life are pretty well integrated. 

Just 51 years ago, the head of a profoundly gifted young man was blown apart.

A few months earlier he’d given a speech that promised a new dawn.

He reached out to our enemies. He talked of going to the moon, of technological breakthrough and human promise. And he stopped the radioactive madness of atmospheric Bomb testing, a reason many of us are alive today.

It’s easy to idealize John Kennedy.

We still debate what he might have done in Vietnam.

But since the war did escalate, and we know the horrible costs to us all, then the possibility that he might have gotten us out gnaws at our soul.

So does not being sure about who actually killed him.

And then there’s the horror of the moment itself. A fellow human, blown apart before our eyes.

It hurts to think about it. To write about it. How can sorrow not reign in our hearts over this terrible human image that so deeply defines us?

As the grand jury’s decision on whether nor not to indict Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson loomed, Missouri Gov. Jay Nixon told a TV reporter “he’s preparing for peace and war.”

What the governor did, in the tense uncertainty preceding the decision, was pre-declare a state of emergency and activate the Missouri National Guard to help contain the possibility of violent, anti-police protests. He also appointed 16 people, including several of the protesters, to a newly created “Ferguson Commission” to recommend solutions to the racial problems plaguing that community, which the killing of Michael Brown last August made unavoidably apparent.

Meanwhile, gun sales at local shops are through the roof and the local Klan is stirring, distributing fliers warning protesters that they’ve awakened a sleeping giant.

America, America . . .

Before we proceed further, let’s stir in a little Einstein: “We cannot solve our problems with the same level of thinking that created them.”