At the very heart of our republic lies a sacred truth—that the rights enshrined in our Constitution belong to every individual, not only to those we agree with, not only to those who think, speak, or worship as we do, but to each and every person residing on American soil. Among these rights is the inviolable freedom to peaceably assemble—a fundamental protection not granted conditionally, not given only to the popular or the powerful, but extended equally to the marginalized, the voiceless, and even the dissenting. In this document, I seek to remind you that the right to assemble is not a right earned by compliance or popularity—it is a cornerstone of our liberty, a lifeline of democracy, and a measure of our collective moral resolve.

There is a pressing danger in our nation today, not in the voice of the protester, but in the hands that seek to silence that voice. We are witnessing, in increasing frequency and with alarming normalization, the demonization and criminalization of protest—not because of the threat it poses to public safety, but because of the challenge it poses to the powerful. When people gather to speak truth to power, when they stand on sidewalks or in front of institutions or march through city centers to voice disagreement, they are not attacking the state—they are participating in the very act of citizenship.

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And yet, we live in an era where peaceful protest is painted as domestic extremism, where solidarity is cast as sedition, and where assembly is met not with dialogue, but with riot shields, tear gas, and mass arrest. We must recognize this for what it is: an affront to the Constitution and a threat to the soul of our nation. The history of this country is rich with assembly that disrupted norms, that challenged institutions, and that led to progress. From the Boston Tea Party to the Civil Rights Movement, from women marching for suffrage to workers demanding fair wages, every generation of Americans has used assembly as a tool not just to oppose injustice, but to define what justice ought to be.

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The greatness of our democracy does not rest in the ease of its governance, but in the difficulty of its promises. It is easy to allow the popular voice to speak—it takes no courage to tolerate ideas that match our own. But to stand by the rights of those with whom we disagree, to protect the assembly of the misunderstood or the marginalized, that is where the test of democracy truly lies. We cannot call ourselves free if freedom only extends to the agreeable. We cannot call ourselves just if justice is only granted to those who share our values. When a person stands on American soil and peacefully raises a sign, a voice, or a prayer—whether it be in defense of the environment, for the sanctity of life, for racial equality, or in solidarity with those suffering abroad—that person is exercising an American right, not committing an American offense.

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To deny someone this right because of the content of their message is to betray the very founding principles of the republic. Consider this: if the right to assemble were contingent upon agreement with the majority, then abolitionists would have been silenced, the suffragists jailed, and civil rights leaders exiled. But instead, their assembly—though disruptive—moved the nation forward. The discomfort of protest is not a flaw of democracy—it is its function. We must resist the temptation to allow fear to justify censorship. The suppression of dissent in the name of stability does not bring peace—it brings authoritarianism cloaked in the language of order. The health of a republic is not measured by how quiet its streets are, but by how freely its people can speak and stand.

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Let us then be very clear: to say that protest is only valid when one agrees with it is to deny protest altogether. That position is not one of democracy but of domination. And that is a road which history shows us leads not to unity but to tyranny. I address this to every citizen: you may not agree with every cause, you may find some chants unsettling, some messages offensive, or some gatherings disruptive—but your disagreement does not void another’s right to assemble. Your discomfort does not outweigh their constitutional protection. And most importantly, if you wish your own voice to remain protected, you must defend the right of others to use theirs.

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We are a people bound not by blood but by belief. The Constitution is our social contract, and that contract must be upheld especially when it is tested. When we protect the right to assembly for all—even for those with whom we disagree—we are not only defending them; we are defending the future, and the fragile but precious liberty we all share. It is easy to forget that the Constitution does not grant rights—it recognizes them. It does not bestow favor—it protects dignity. The right to assemble exists not because the government allows it, but because the people are sovereign. The moment we surrender that right for convenience or conformity, we lose something sacred, something generations before us fought and died to preserve.

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So I urge every American to remember: silence is not always peace. Comfort is not always justice. And dissent is not always destruction. The right to assemble is a mirror of our conscience, a barometer of our courage, and a tool for our collective progress.

Whether you march for Palestine or for Israel, for the unborn or for bodily autonomy, for the planet or for the economy, your voice matters. And more importantly, your right to use it must be preserved. If we do not protect the right to assemble for others, we cannot expect it to be protected for ourselves. Let us never allow disagreement to become justification for erasure. Let us never allow ideology to silence identity. And let us never allow our Constitution to be interpreted through the lens of partisan convenience.

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This republic was built on protest. This democracy was forged in dissent. And this Constitution is only as strong as our willingness to defend it—fully, fairly, and for everyone. As we have previously mentioned in People’s Papers No. 4, the right to protest and assemble is a constitutional right protected in the First Amendment of the United States Constitution. This foundational document, adopted in 1791 as part of the Bill of Rights, remains one of the most important legal foundations in American society. The First Amendment states:

“or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” These words have echoed across generations, movements, and eras, forming the foundation of democratic engagement in the United States. The specific phrasing, “the right of the people peaceably to assemble,” ensures that citizens have the constitutionally protected ability to gather in public spaces to express their views, voice discontent, advocate for change, and participate in the formation of public discourse. This is not a conditional right. It does not depend on political opinion, socioeconomic status, religious belief, or ideological alignment. It is a universal guarantee, a non-negotiable right granted to all people within the jurisdiction of the United States.

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The inclusion of the right to assemble within the same amendment that protects free speech, free press, and freedom of religion is not coincidental. The founding fathers understood the critical relationship between public discourse and a functioning democracy. Without the right to peaceably assemble, how can citizens collectively express their views? How can grievances be brought to the attention of those in power? How can movements grow, ideas flourish, and injustices be challenged? The answer is: they cannot. A democracy without assembly is a democracy in name only.

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The historical backdrop that gave rise to this constitutional right is deeply rooted in the American struggle against British colonial rule. Prior to independence, colonists often organized public gatherings to express their frustrations with policies imposed by the British Crown, particularly regarding taxation without representation, trade restrictions, and arbitrary governance. Events such as the Boston Tea Party in 1773 were not only iconic acts of rebellion but also collective assemblies designed to express the colonists' dissent. The ability to gather publicly and challenge authority was an essential tool of resistance. The founding fathers were intimately familiar with the power and necessity of assembly, and they enshrined it in the Constitution to protect future generations from the very tyranny they had fought to escape.

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James Madison understood that the right to assemble was not merely about protest, but about community, dialogue, and the continuous improvement of governance through public participation. It was a civic tool, not just a political weapon. Public assembly is also vital for minority voices. Throughout American history, the most important social movements began with small groups of individuals assembling to speak truth to power. Assembly allowed for minority voices to be heard, to grow, and ultimately to shape national policy and culture. Assembly has always been the amplifier for the marginalized.

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Yet, the right to assemble is not only about grand historical moments. It is also about everyday engagement. It is about students gathering to protest tuition hikes, communities organizing against unjust laws, workers uniting to demand fair wages, or faith groups advocating for humanitarian causes. Assembly is a living, breathing exercise in democracy. It allows us to listen, to speak, and to be seen. Despite this clear constitutional guarantee, there have been numerous instances in American history where governments at various levels have sought to suppress the right to assemble. From the brutal crackdowns on civil rights marches in the 1960s to the forceful dispersal of Occupy Wall Street encampments, from the surveillance of anti-war activists to the police presence at recent student protests, the state's response to assembly often mirrors the very tyranny that the Constitution was designed to prevent.

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In recent years, we have seen alarming developments in the policing and criminalization of protest. Local, state, and federal agencies have employed militarized tactics to control, monitor, and in some cases, violently disperse protests. Laws have been passed to restrict where, when, and how people can protest. Permits have become tools of control. Surveillance technologies have been deployed to track activists. Peaceful demonstrators have been labeled as threats. These actions stand in direct contradiction to the First Amendment and represent an erosion of democratic principles.

Moreover, the selective enforcement of protest laws reveals a troubling double standard. Protests that align with dominant political ideologies often receive minimal interference, while those that challenge the status quo are met with aggression. This inconsistency undermines the very principle of equal protection under the law. The right to assemble cannot be contingent on the popularity of one’s message.

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Even more concerning is the narrative promoted by some political leaders and media outlets that equates protest with lawlessness. By framing assembly as inherently dangerous or disruptive, they distort public perception and provide justification for repression. But history teaches us that disruption is not the enemy of democracy—it is often the catalyst for its renewal.

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Consider the legacy of the Civil Rights Movement. In 1963, Martin Luther King Jr. led a march in Birmingham, Alabama, that was met with police dogs, fire hoses, and mass arrests. His Letter from Birmingham Jail, penned in response to criticisms from local clergy, eloquently defended the necessity of nonviolent protest. He wrote:

“We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.”

King’s words remind us that protest is not an act of chaos, but of courage. It is the voice of the unheard. It is the pressure valve in a system that often fails to deliver justice. The right to assemble is not just a constitutional technicality—it is a lifeline for democracy.

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Public assembly also plays a critical role in shaping public policy. Legislators respond to pressure, to voices, to movements. The success of any democratic system depends on the participation of its citizens. Protest is one of the most visible and impactful forms of participation. It is a demonstration of civic engagement. It is democracy in action. The courts have repeatedly reaffirmed the constitutional right to assembly. In NAACP v. Alabama (1958), the Supreme Court protected the right of individuals to associate for the purposes of advancing beliefs and ideas. In Edwards v. South Carolina (1963), the Court overturned the breach of peace convictions of students who protested segregation, ruling that the state had infringed upon their First Amendment rights. In Shuttlesworth v. Birmingham (1969), the Court struck down the misuse of parade permits to silence civil rights protesters. These cases underscore the judiciary’s recognition of assembly as a core constitutional value.

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However, judicial rulings alone are not enough. Constitutional rights are only as strong as the public's willingness to defend them. It is the responsibility of every citizen to recognize, respect, and uphold the right to assemble—not just for themselves, but for others. This includes those with whom we disagree. The test of a true democracy is not how it treats the majority, but how it protects the rights of the minority. Yet, despite the clarity of this right, recent trends in governance and law enforcement signal a dangerous deviation from these foundational principles. Restrictions on assembly, whether through direct force, selective application of the law, surveillance, or public shaming, have become increasingly common. What was once a clear right has been recast as a privilege to be granted or revoked depending on the message being shared. This is not only unjust—it is un-American.

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To those who agree with the current administration or those who feel untouched by these restrictions, I urge you to reflect deeply. The power to silence one group is the same power that could be used to silence you tomorrow. The question is not whether you agree with the protesters or the message they carry. The question is whether you agree that the government should have the authority to decide who gets to speak, who gets to gather, and who gets to be heard. Because once that power is normalized, it can and will be turned against anyone. We are witnessing a shift in how public assembly is treated. Peaceful demonstrations are being conflated with disorder. Participants in non-violent protests are arrested, surveilled, doxxed, or targeted with legal penalties. Spaces traditionally meant for open public discourse—college campuses, public squares, city halls—are now fenced off, guarded, or deemed "off-limits" for the sake of "security." The label of "unlawful assembly" is used with increasing frequency and decreasing justification.

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Let us not forget, the American Revolution itself was built upon acts of public assembly that would today be deemed disruptive, even criminal. The gatherings that led to the drafting of the Declaration of Independence were not sanctioned by British rule. These were acts of civil disobedience by people who knew that assembly was not simply a right on parchment, but a living exercise of self-governance. If we are to continue calling ourselves a democracy, then we must ensure that the public square remains open to all voices—especially those we disagree with. That is the essence of free expression. It is not a freedom designed to protect agreeable speech, but controversial, difficult, and even uncomfortable ideas. Democracy is not meant to be easy or comfortable; it is meant to be inclusive and participatory.

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Today, we see this freedom under siege. There are documented instances where individuals have been arrested or removed from public events for nothing more than holding a sign. Others have been subject to surveillance for attending protests. Whole communities have seen their right to gather reduced to a bureaucratic nightmare, with permits denied or overly restricted based on subjective assessments of "risk." When law enforcement is used not to protect protesters, but to intimidate or disperse them, we do not have freedom of assembly—we have state-sanctioned suppression. When a protest requires a permit, and that permit is denied because the message is controversial, we do not have neutral governance—we have political censorship. When citizens are arrested for chanting, marching, or simply showing up, we do not have a democratic society—we have autocracy in disguise.

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Even more troubling is the growing use of technology to monitor assemblies. This silent surveillance chills speech and discourages participation. It tells the people: "We are watching you. Be careful what you say." This is not the vision the Founding Fathers had in mind when they wrote the First Amendment. They understood the power of assembly as an antidote to tyranny. They saw the ability of the people to gather and be heard as protection against the overreach of the state. When they wrote the Constitution, they did so in defiance of a government that sought to suppress them. They did not just advocate protest—they practiced it.

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We must also consider the role of technology in modern assembly. Social media, live-streaming, and digital platforms have transformed the landscape of protest. Organizers can reach thousands, even millions, in real time. Hashtags can galvanize support. Videos can document abuses. Yet, these tools are also subject to censorship, surveillance, and manipulation. The digital public square is an extension of the physical one, and it too must be protected.

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Furthermore, the intersection of protest and policing must be critically examined. Police departments, often equipped with military-grade weapons, have adopted aggressive tactics that escalate tensions rather than de-escalate them. The use of tear gas, rubber bullets, and mass arrests sends a chilling message to would-be protesters. These actions do not protect the public; they intimidate it. They create a climate of fear and silence.

If we are to preserve the right to assemble, we must demand accountability. Law enforcement must be trained in constitutional policing. Elected officials must resist the urge to legislate protest out of existence. Courts must remain vigilant in defending First Amendment rights. And citizens must continue to raise their voices.

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Assembly is not an inconvenience to democracy—it is essential to it. It is a sacred tradition that links us to the founding ideals of this nation. When we gather, we do not merely protest—we participate. And so, to every American reading this—whether you are conservative or liberal, religious or secular, rich or poor—this issue concerns you. You may believe the restrictions on assembly today are justified, because you disagree with the message being expressed. But tomorrow, the tables may turn. The protester silenced today could be you or your child tomorrow. If we normalize censorship for one group, we give tacit approval for it to be used against any group.

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We must resist this creeping authoritarianism by recommitting ourselves to the values of our Constitution. We must demand that our leaders uphold the First Amendment, not merely in words, but in practice. We must challenge the erosion of our freedoms not only when they affect us directly, but when they affect any American. Freedom of assembly is not negotiable. It is not a partisan issue. It is a democratic imperative. Without it, the people cannot speak, organize, or hold power to account. Without it, government becomes absolute and the governed become subjects, not citizens.

If we are to preserve the Republic, then we must defend its most sacred principles. Let us not falter in the face of convenience or political expediency. Let us stand firm, united not by agreement, but by our shared belief in liberty and justice for all.

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So I speak now not to one group, but to all Americans: Do not be lulled into complacency. Do not be misled into thinking your rights are safe if others' are not. The erosion of one right is the erosion of all rights. The time to speak out is now. The time to protect our Constitution is always.

Let us never forget the words that echo through our history: "We the People." That includes all of us. Let us honor those words by ensuring that every person, regardless of who they are or what they believe, has the right to assemble, to speak, and to demand a better future.

The First Amendment is not a relic. It is a promise. A promise that the people will be heard. That they will be seen. That they will not be silenced. The right to peaceably assemble is not a threat to order. It is the heartbeat of freedom. And as we reflect on People’s No. 4 and beyond, let us remember that the Constitution was written by those who understood the necessity of dissent. They were not afraid of protest. They were born from it.