For the past year, Aurora City Council meetings have been hijacked by activists whose message shifted as often as the headlines. What began as outrage over the SWAT-involved death of Kylin Lewis quickly mutated into protests over Palestine, the hiring of a new police chief, and a disjointed collection of progressive causes.

The goal wasn’t resolution. It was sabotage — a page torn straight from Saul Alinsky’s Rules for Radicals, a handbook that prizes ridicule, chaos and confrontation over persuasion. The disruptors shouted louder than anyone else, but when the dust settled, the city kept moving forward. Their campaign to paralyze Aurora’s government failed, and in the process, they made themselves look ridiculous.

Alinsky taught that power is perception: create enough noise, and people will think you are stronger than you are. Week after week, a small but noisy band flooded the chamber with chants and slogans. To inflate their presence, they hurled labels designed to intimidate: council members were called “racists,” “white supremacists,” “fascists,” even “overseers of Blacks being lynched on every corner.” Some went as far as declaring that they would report council members to “future President Kamala Harris,” as though name-dropping a national figure could magnify their local theatrics.

Another Alinsky tactic is ridicule, and the disruptors wielded it without restraint. The intent was never to engage in debate but to publicly humiliate council members, making city government look weak and illegitimate.

Finally, Alinsky urged activists to “keep the pressure constant” by shifting demands. True to form, Aurora’s disruptors never stuck to one issue. One week, it was police use of force, the next it was Gaza, the next city staffing decisions. The inconsistency was deliberate: keep the target off balance, make governing impossible, and hope chaos itself becomes the story.

Theatrics reached their height with a frivolous First Amendment lawsuit claiming the city had silenced them. However, free speech is not the same as a free pass to derail government. The suit was never meant to win on legal grounds; it was Alinsky-style misdirection — an attempt to intimidate leaders into paralysis.

Then came their crowning act of arrogance: proclaiming they were “gifting back time” to the council. After a year of wasted hours, disrupted agendas, and hijacked meetings, they acted as though time belonged to them to give or withhold. It was the perfect symbol of their folly — confusing noise with power.

Despite the chaos, Aurora’s council stayed on track. Budgets were passed. Ordinances were enacted. Residents received city services. Policy decisions went forward. The Alinsky playbook depends on making institutions look powerless. But in Aurora, it backfired.

Council business continued, and the activists became background noise. Their labels lost sting, their lawsuits went nowhere, and their “mass movement” revealed itself as a handful of hecklers chasing headlines. The contrast was unmistakable: while elected leaders did the work of governing, a small group played political theater.

The greatest casualty was not the functioning of Aurora’s government but the credibility of the protesters themselves. By tossing around words like “racist” and “fascist” at every turn, they trivialized even the serious concerns they once claimed to represent. By invoking lynchings on “every corner,” they insulted residents’ intelligence and mocked real historical suffering. And by promising to “report” local officials to Kamala Harris, they turned their activism into parody.

Instead of elevating the issues, they diminished them. Instead of building trust, they burned it. Ultimately, they didn’t weaken Aurora’s government; they weakened themselves.

Saul Alinsky believed disruption was the highest form of politics. Aurora’s disruptors embraced his tactics: ridicule, constant pressure, shifting demands, and theatrical insults. But while they succeeded in creating chaos, they failed to stop progress.

Aurora’s city government carried on. Progress was made. And those who tried to paralyze the city exposed themselves as unserious, ineffective, and absurd.

The lesson is clear: shouting “racist” or “fascist” doesn’t make it true, filing a lawsuit doesn’t make it valid, and disruption without results is nothing more than noise. Aurora deserves better — and, thankfully, it got better. The city prevailed, while the would-be disruptors were left looking like frauds.

Michael A. Hancock is a retired high-tech business executive and a Coloradan since 1973. Originally from Texas, he is a musician, composer, software engineer and U.S. Air Force veteran whose wide-ranging interests — from science and religion to politics, the arts and philosophy — shape his perspective on culture, innovation and what it means to be a Coloradan.