Why You Can't Build a Revolution on White People

Scroll through your social media feed. Depending on the year or the season you’ll notice a sea of black squares from that time everyone decided to show solidarity with Black Lives Matter. Or perhaps a flood of blue and yellow flags when Russia invaded Ukraine. At first glance, it might seem like we're living in an age of unprecedented global awareness and activism.

But is that the truth?

Or is it just the left-over scraps of the last White People cause?

You know - the thing we've made our identity.

We're a little self-obsessed, hey.

It's not entirely our fault - we're human, and our brains are wired to prioritize our own experiences, our own struggles, our own little slice of the world. The problem is that our own little slice of the world is too damn comfortable.

And this inherent self-centeredness has some pretty far-reaching consequences, especially when it comes to how we engage with global issues and activism.

Our engagement with global issues, particularly those that don't directly affect us (cough, again, white people), is very fucking fleeting and very fucking superficial. We're quick to jump on the bandwagon of the latest cause célèbre, changing our profile pictures and sharing impassioned posts.

But how long does this fervor last? A week? A month? Until the next big thing comes along to capture our fickle attention?

This pattern becomes particularly glaring when we look at movements that rely heavily on the support of those not directly impacted by the issue at hand. The Pro-Palestine movement, for instance, has gained significant traction in Western countries, with many non-Arab, non-Muslim individuals vocally supporting the cause. Sure, it might seem like a triumph of human empathy, a sign that we're capable of caring deeply about issues that don't directly affect us.

But haven't we been here before?

The harsh reality is that sustaining this level of engagement over the long term is incredibly difficult, especially for those who don't have a personal stake in the outcome. It's not that these supporters are insincere or deliberately distractible. Life simply gets in the way.

When was the last time you maintained intense focus on anything for an extended period? Our attention spans are shrinking rapidly. We're bombarded with information, causes, and crises 24/7. Today it's Palestine, tomorrow it's climate change, the day after it's a natural disaster halfway across the world. Each cause is undoubtedly worthy of attention, but our cognitive resources are finite.

The very nature of privilege plays a huge role. Those of us lucky enough to live in relative safety and comfort have the luxury of choosing which causes to care about. We can dip our toes into various activist pools, feeling self righteous and fucking engaged without ever having to fully commit or face real consequences.

It's disaster tourism, but for social causes. We visit, we express our shock and outrage, we maybe donate a few bucks or attend a protest, and then we move on, feeling like we've done our part. Meanwhile, those actually living through these crises don't have the option to "move on" - they're stuck in the hellscape we merely hashtagged.

Social media has amplified this phenomenon to wild new levels. We've developed a sort of 'hypetivism', flitting from cause to cause, changing our profile pictures like we change our clothes. It's activism as fashion, as personal branding. "Look how aware I am," we seem to be saying. "Look how much I care about the world."

But caring - real caring - isn't grand gestures or public displays. It's sustained effort, showing up day after day, even when it's no longer trendy, even when your friends have moved on to the next big thing. And that's hard. Really hard. Especially when the issue at hand doesn't directly impact your daily life.

The concept of 'main character syndrome' plays a significant role here. In our own life stories, we're always the protagonist. Even when we're engaging with global issues, there's often an underlying current of "how does this reflect on me?" or "how can I use this to show that I'm a good person?" It's not necessarily conscious or malicious, but it's there, subtly influencing our actions and attitudes.

The result? A kind of performative activism that's more about the activist than the cause. We share posts, we attend rallies, we have heated debates at dinner parties - all of which make us feel engaged and righteous. But when the spotlight moves on, when our friends stop talking about it, when it's no longer the hot topic du jour, our passion often fades.

This doesn't mean that all activism by those not directly affected is meaningless or insincere. Allies can play crucial roles in amplifying marginalized voices and leveraging their privilege for positive change. But effective allyship requires sticking power.

The Pro-Palestine movement, like many before it, is going to have to grapple with this reality. The initial surge of support from Western voices was powerful. But as the conflict drags on, as the news cycle moves to other crises, as the complexity of the situation becomes increasingly apparent, that support is going to wane.

This isn't because people will suddenly stop caring about Palestinian rights.

It's because caring is hard work, especially when it's about something that doesn't directly impact your daily life.

Our attention is constantly being pulled in a million different directions. At the end of the day, most of us will always prioritize the issues that affect us personally over those that seem distant and abstract.

That's humans in general.

But for white folks, white activists, white commenters - particularly the Very Online kind - we're privileged enough that most of the world's most pressing and tragic issues don't actually get in the way of our morning coffee.

It's shit.

I'm not saying it's not

But it's the reality.

Where does this leave movements that rely heavily on the support of those not directly impacted? In a precarious position, to be sure. The challenge lies in finding ways to maintain engagement over the long haul, to turn that initial burst of passion into sustained, meaningful action.

This challenge extends beyond Palestine. Virtually every global movement, from climate change activism to anti-racism efforts, faces it. How do you keep people engaged when the issue doesn't affect their daily lives? How do you combat activist fatigue and the ever-present pull of the next big crisis?

There's no easy answer, but the first step is acknowledging this uncomfortable truth. Recognizing the fleeting nature of much of our activism isn't giving up on trying to engage people in issues beyond their immediate sphere. But we have to be realistic about what we can expect from allies and supporters.

Maybe it means focusing more on building sustainable, local movements rather than relying too heavily on global attention. Maybe it means finding ways to make these issues more personally relevant to a wider audience. Or maybe it just means accepting that the ebb and flow of public attention is part of the process, and learning to work with it rather than against it.

One thing is very fucking clear: building a movement on the outrage of those not directly impacted is a precarious foundation at best. 

Building a revolution on white people just doesn’t work. 

We don’t show up long term. And that’s on us; it’s a sugar rush of activism — intense but short-lived. The real work, the sustained effort that leads to actual change, often happens in the quieter moments, long after the hashtags have stopped trending and the profile pictures have changed back.

The world’s problems don’t disappear just because we’ve stopped paying attention to them. The struggles of marginalized communities don’t reach a Disney happy ending when we move on to the next cause. Climate change doesn’t take a break when we’re focused on other issues. These challenges persist, day in and day out, whether they’re trending on Twitter or not.

Perhaps the real question is “How do we cultivate a more sustainable, more genuine form of global citizenship?” How do we move beyond the cycle of attention-grabbing crises and circle-jerk activism to create a world where we’re all a little more consistently engaged, a little more genuinely invested in each other’s wellbeing?

It’s not an easy task. 

It’s a task that belongs to white people. 

It requires us to confront our own limitations, our own biases, our own tendency to prioritize the immediate and the personal over the global and the long-term. It requires us to be honest about the fleeting nature of much of our engagement with world issues, and to actively work to counter this tendency.

The fact that something is difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. The fact that we can’t solve all the world’s problems doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to solve any of them. And the fact that our attention spans are short doesn’t mean we can’t work on extending them, on developing a more sustained, more meaningful engagement with the world around us.

When you find yourself caught up in the latest global cause, ask yourself: Am I in this for the long haul? Am I willing to stay engaged even when it’s no longer trending? Am I prepared to do the hard, often unglamorous work of sustained activism?

That’s what it all comes down to. Not the profile pictures or the hashtags or the impassioned social media posts, but the willingness to keep showing up, keep caring, keep doing the work — even when no one’s watching, even when it’s no longer cool, even when it feels like you’re the only one who still gives a fuck.