If the first few months are anything to go by, 2006 will be a riotous year: we’ve already seen race riots in impoverished, immigrant banlieues throughout France; global riots about cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed; and even in Dublin, a riot to stop a handful of Ulster Prods walking past the GPO. And we haven’t even celebrated May Day. After each of these disorders, there has been a tangible sense of frustration with the rioters: whether experienced by moderate Muslims or moderate Dubliners, the feeling was the same – why is this violent minority perpetuating a negative, misguided stereotype of us? It seems like an appropriate time to look again at the art of non-violent protest, and to examine the techniques of their most effective practitioner, Mahatma Gandhi.

Before talking about Gandhi, it’s worth stating the obvious. He is a complex, controversial figure, whose name is frequently trotted out by left-wingers who are eager to secure the moral high-ground, but have run out of quotes from Nelson Mandela. The real Gandhi espoused a philosophy that went far beyond the political realm, touching on every aspect of life. While extremely admirable, it was never likely to be embraced, or even understood, by the masses. Gandhi’s views are almost totally incompatible with modern attitudes to technology, medicine and sex.

However, Gandhi’s approach to protest – while best understood in the context of his overall philosophy – contains several elements which can be emulated without resorting to celibate vegetarianism. The crux of Gandhi’s outlook was that he had no enemies, simply misguided friends. He did not undertake civil disobedience to inflict defeat or destruction on anyone. He merely wanted his political opponents to re-consider their position and actions. Instead of forcing people to surrender, he encouraged them to reform.

Gandhi always treated his political opponents with the utmost courtesy, informing them of campaigns in advance, refusing to take unfair advantage of their personal vulnerabilities and always looking out for an honourable compromise. Such impeccably moral behaviour impressed many who disagreed with him. The beauty of Gandhi’s method was that it won admiration across the political spectrum, but it also allowed those who fervently disagreed with him to express their feelings openly. He often encouraged close supporters to abandon his methods if they did not truly believe in his vision.

Another vital element of Gandhi’s approach to protest was his genius for symbolism. In 1930 he led a month-long march to the seashore to make salt, in defiance of British salt tax. It sounds utterly Quixotic. But in fact, it was a stroke of brilliance. Every human being, regardless of wealth, religion, geography, language, gender or caste needs salt to survive. As such it was an issue on which all Indians could unite. This imperial tax on a necessity of life was also a potent symbol of India’s servitude. Coinciding, as it did, with the early days of newsreel, images of the salt march were shown thousands of miles away – especially in Britain and the USA. The image of a frail old man, surrounded by peaceful followers, walking to the sea to make salt in defiance of the mighty British Empire had an enormous global impact.

So how does any of this apply to modern protest movements?

A few years ago, I met an English guy in a pub who swore to me that he had just witnessed Gardai brutally attacking civilians in the centre of Dublin. I didn’t believe him. Until I saw the evening news. In the days that followed, the fracas – during which a handful of police removed their identifying insignia, before unleashing their truncheons on unarmed May Day protestors – became known as the ‘Battle of Dame Street’. Admittedly this was a slightly grandiose title – especially from a nation which dismissed the Second World War as ‘the Emergency’ and thirty years of sectarian terrorism as ‘the Troubles’. Perhaps it was meant to be reminiscent of the ‘Battle in Seattle’ where the U.S. police used shocking violence against people trying to peacefully protest at a meeting of the WTO.

The lesson for police and protestors is the same: it only takes a small, violent element from within their own ranks to discredit the entire collective. As a result of the above incidents, many protestors now set out on marches believing that the only thing preventing the cops from going hog-wild is the presence of the media. In the majority of protests the reality is the reverse. Most police officers want to have a quiet life, prevent any damage to people or property, and pick up their overtime cheques at the end of the day. The media, by contrast, are desperate for things to get ugly. Nothing sells papers like blood. If 10,000 people march peacefully, and one idiot burns out a car, the six o’clock news will lead with pictures of the flaming vehicle.

This nasty reality has led some protestors to conclude that the only way to ensure media coverage is to become violent. There may be some truth to this, but it is deeply simplistic. Media coverage is not an end in itself. The advertising maxim that ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’ doesn’t apply to politics. If there’s violence at a protest, the only message that will filter through to most people is that the protestors are dangerous thugs.

Only by following completely non-violent methods, communicating with police, expressing the shared desire for a peaceful outcome, will protestors force a reluctant media to actually report their message. If anything, protestors should target the media, not the police, providing photographers with striking, metaphorical spectacles.

Of course the dollar-a-day question is: what’s the modern equivalent of the salt march? What issue, or individual, could unite the vastly diverse groups that make up the so called ‘anti-globalisation movement’? Only time will tell. Let’s just hope it doesn’t involve giving up meat or sex.