A New American Revolution, And Why the World Is Waiting for It

I recently left a comment on a video by The Bulwark, one of the few American platforms still fighting the good fight with reason and integrity. But as much as I admire their work, I found myself turning off the video. Not because I disagreed… but because I’ve grown tired of words without action. The arguments are sharp, the facts are real, but where is the resistance? Where is the sacrifice?

In 1970, four students were gunned down at Kent State University for daring to protest the Vietnam War. Their crime? Believing that young lives, Vietnamese and American, were worth more than the geopolitical ambitions of the powerful. I was a teenager in Australia then. We took to the streets in solidarity, throwing homemade smoke bombs at police on horseback as they chased us with batons. We stood up, even at 14, because we knew what was happening was wrong.

Fifty-four years later, America feels spiritually broken again. A bloated, soulless system has eaten the promise of the republic from the inside. The gap between the ruling class and the people has widened into a chasm. Greed is no longer hidden, it’s paraded. The real estate industry has become a symbol of this rot, commodifying basic human need into investment portfolios while working families drown under impossible rents. Meanwhile, corruption festers in places once thought sacred, the courts, the presidency, even your churches.

Many of you know this. You feel it. You rage online. But where is the fire in the streets?

This isn’t just an American problem. The rest of the world watches America, not because we think you’re better, but because when Americans rise, it shakes the world. When Americans let injustice reign, the silence becomes deafening. What happened to the land of the brave?

Revolution doesn’t always mean blood in the streets. But it does mean sacrifice. It means boycotts. It means strikes. It means getting arrested for something that matters. It means standing in front of bulldozers, not behind fences tweeting about how angry you are.

I’m 69 now. I’ve seen the pendulum swing, and I know it can swing again. But it won’t do it on its own. It needs your hands, your voices, your refusal to look away.

We don’t need another saviour in a suit. We need ordinary people to become extraordinary by saying no more. No more lies. No more billionaires buying democracy. No more children dying poor in the richest nation on Earth.

So yes, I turn off your posts sometimes. Not because you’re wrong. But because I’m still waiting for you to act. I’m still waiting for Americans to remember that protest is not a performance… it is a promise. A promise to the dead. A promise to the children. A promise to yourselves.

Because until the revolution comes, and it must come, we all suffer in the shadow of your inaction.