Solidarity (n.) movements were a new thing in the 1980s, Americans working directly with people their taxes paid to repress — a dramatic change.
Solidarity (n.) from inside the imperial countries is the one thing without which no Third World struggle has any hope.
Solidarity (n.) is the way past violence: the police and soldiers are just other people, and if understanding spreads far enough they won't stop the workers taking the factory.
Solidarity (n.) reached new depth in the 1980s, when church people from Kansas and Wyoming went to live in Central American villages so a white face might shield the victims.
Solidarity (n.) is the only answer to a lone worker's fear: alone against a big system you can do almost nothing, just as telling someone in Haiti to attack the police station helps no one.
Solidarity (n.) sits just below the surface, so natural and obvious that it takes massive effort to beat down — puncture the surface and it all comes out.
Solidarity (n.) broke new ground in the 1980s: for the first time, citizens of an empire went to live among its victims to shield them.
Solidarity (n.) from home and abroad probably saved the Zapatistas from the expected brutal repression, and energized organizing worldwide.