The movement gained momentum after a series of highly visible protests where participants explained that the surest path toward national unity involved yelling at strangers, blocking traffic, and occasionally attacking inanimate objects.
"We are deeply committed to peace," declared activist leader Rowan Justice while standing in front of three overturned recycling bins and a smoldering electric scooter. "That's why we're willing to destroy absolutely everything necessary to achieve it."
Political scientists described the strategy as groundbreaking.
"For centuries, people assumed peace involved reducing conflict," explained Professor Miles Contradiction of the Institute for Advanced Irony. "Modern activists have courageously challenged that outdated assumption."
Several cities quickly adapted.
Municipal governments established designated "Peace Zones" where citizens could safely scream at one another about tolerance.
The zones reportedly include therapy dogs, charging stations, and complimentary megaphones capable of broadcasting moral superiority up to five miles away.
One protester explained the philosophy.
"If I disagree with your viewpoint, the loving thing to do is accuse you of fascism before learning your name," she said. "That's how democracy heals."
Businesses attempted to cooperate.
A local coffee shop posted a sign reading, "We support peaceful dialogue."
The store was immediately condemned for centering dialogue.
A revised sign reading, "We support all feelings" was criticized for excluding theoretical future feelings.
A third sign containing only a blank sheet of paper was praised as a courageous act of resistance.
Meanwhile, ordinary Americans watched the demonstrations with growing fascination.
"I've never seen so many people unite around the idea that everyone else is the problem," said one observer. "It's honestly impressive."
Religious leaders encouraged citizens to practice forgiveness, humility, and neighborly love.
The advice received little media attention because nobody threw a bicycle during the sermon.
By late afternoon, organizers announced plans for a new National Harmony March expected to feature twelve competing factions protesting each other simultaneously.
Participants will reportedly gather beneath a giant banner reading, "COEXIST — OR ELSE."
Officials say the event perfectly captures the spirit of modern activism: a relentless pursuit of unity conducted entirely through public hostility.
At press time, organizers were already planning next month's event, "International Day of Compassionate Rage," where attendees will celebrate understanding by refusing to understand anyone.
