The Power of "No"
Mon, 22 Dec 2025
We live in a world that constantly pressures us to say "yes." Yes to the Terms of Service we didn't read. Yes to the app that everyone else is using. Yes to the convenient, shiny cage that proprietary software offers. We're told that compromise is a virtue. I hear arguments like, "I only use this one proprietary program for work," or "I need it to talk to my friends." It feels pragmatic.
But in the fight for user freedom, "No" is the most powerful word in our vocabulary. Refusing to use proprietary software is not merely a personal lifestyle choice or a technical preference. It is a form of non-violent resistance. It is a direct action that strengthens the free software movement in ways that compromise never can.
Every time we say "yes" to non-free software, we're not just installing a program; we're validating a system of subjugation. Every time you say "yes" to a proprietary program, you're sending a signal to the developer: "Your model works. I'm willing to trade my freedom for this." You're validating their power to control you.
Proprietary software relies on our compliance. It needs us to accept that we don't own our computers, that we have no right to see the code, and that we must give up sharing and the spirit of community and cooperation as the price of admission to modern life.
When you refuse to install a program that disrespects your freedom - even when it is inconvenient, and especially when it's inconvenient - you're declaring that your rights aren't for sale. You're proving that proprietary software isn't the only way.
The most practical reason to refuse proprietary software is that necessity is the mother of invention. When you refuse to use proprietary software, you're creating space for free programs to breathe and grow. You force yourself, and your community, to look for - or build - free software that respects your rights.
The free software movement grows strongest where we draw hard lines. Consider the early days of the GNU Project. Richard Stallman started by saying "no" to the culture of non-disclosure agreements and proprietary that was suffocating the lab. That "no" was the foundation upon which the entire free software movement was built. Without that initial refusal to capitulate, the free software we rely on today might not exist.
Refusing proprietary software is also an act of solidarity. When you use a proprietary program to communicate or collaborate, you're often forcing others to do the same. You become a node in their network of control, dragging your friends, family, and colleagues into the same trap through the network effect. Maybe your friends, family, and colleagues are already there. In that case, their usage is applying the network effect to you - the idea that you must join because everyone else is there. It's a hostage situation where your friends and family are the leverage. By saying "no," you chip away at that wall. It isn't easy, yes. You may miss out on some conversations. You may have to work harder to collaborate. But you also become a beacon. You show others that it is possible to exist outside the walled garden.
By saying "no," you break that chain. You might be the "difficult" person who insists on Jitsi Meet instead of Zoom. That friction is good. That friction is necessary. It forces the conversation. It makes the invisible chains of proprietary software visible. It reminds people that they have a choice, even if that choice requires effort. When you say, "No, I cannot use that because it requires me to run non-free software. Here is a link to a free program we can use instead," you're doing the hard work of education and advocacy. You're planting a seed.
Proprietary software is designed to make us feel helpless - like we can't function without it. Saying "no" reclaims your dignity. It's a declaration that your freedom isn't for sale, and that your rights as are non-negotiable.
Finally, the power of "no" lies in integrity. A movement built on "mostly free" is a movement built on sand. If we accept small injustices for the sake of convenience, we lose the moral authority to demand total freedom. Refusing proprietary software strengthens our collective resolve. It reminds us that we're not begging for better features; we're citizens of a digital society demanding our rights.
This isn't an easy path. It requires sacrifice. You might miss out on certain games, specific streaming services, or the "convenience" of a system designed to trap you. But as I wrote in Fueling the Marathon, we're in a generational fight against entrenched power. Every time you say "no" to a piece of software that denies your freedom, you're casting a vote for a future where software serves the user. You're strengthening the movement by proving that it is possible to live, work, and thrive without submitting to digital overlords.
So, the next time you're presented with a shiny new app that demands you surrender your rights, remember the power you hold.
Say "No."
It's the first step to a world where we can all say "Yes" to freedom.