Carpe Momentum: Next Steps

When the system cracks, we can fall through or step forward.

When facing a moment of profound rupture, the wisest course is not to guess, but to remember. Because while our present may feel unprecedented, it is not without precedent. History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme, and in its verses we find lessons, warnings, and blueprints.

The breach we face today, between people and power, between government and legitimacy, between survival and collapse, is not the first of its kind. And it will not be the last. But what we choose to do with this moment will determine whether we rise transformed or fall deeper into crisis.

We are not the first to witness a system in free fall. The Great Depression brought capitalism to its knees, and out of that despair came both the New Deal and the rise of fascism, different paths, chosen by different hands. In Poland, workers organized under the weight of Soviet repression and launched a labor-led democratic revolution. And more recently, in the Arab world, people rose with breathtaking courage, only to see their victories stolen by generals, strongmen, and the vacuum left by leaderless hope.

This essay isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about strategy. If we are to seize this breach and make something new of it, just, livable, collective, we must learn from the people who faced similar cracks in history. Who walked through, who won, who failed, and why.

The path ahead isn’t paved yet. But we can see where others left markers. We should follow them, not blindly, but with intention. And then let’s carve our own.

The Great Depression, triggered by the 1929 stock market crash, left more than 15 million Americans unemployed by 1933, roughly 25% of the workforce. Breadlines wrapped around city blocks. Banks failed in waves. Farmers lost their land. Hunger, eviction, and despair swept the country. But the New Deal didn’t appear out of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s benevolence, it was dragged into existence by a wave of militant grassroots action. In 1932, the Bonus Army, over 40,000 WWI veterans and their families, marched on Washington demanding early payment of promised bonuses. They were met with tear gas and tanks. In the early 1930s, labor militancy surged: the Minneapolis Teamsters Strike (1934), the West Coast Longshore Strike (1934), and the Toledo Auto-Lite Strike (1934) shut down industry and demonstrated the growing power of organized workers. Leaders like A. Philip Randolph, Frances Perkins, and John L. Lewis helped channel these uprisings into demands for structural reform. Socialists and progressives in Congress pushed hard, and Roosevelt, ever the political pragmatist, responded not out of ideology but necessity. The result was a sweeping reimagining of the social contract: Social Security (1935), the Wagner Act (1935) that legalized collective bargaining, Glass-Steagall banking reforms (1933), and massive public works programs like the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and the Works Progress Administration (WPA). It wasn’t perfect. It left out many, especially Black Americans, agricultural and domestic workers, and women. But it was proof that mass pressure, when sustained and strategically applied, could force the hand of power and reshape the nation’s future.

By 1980, Poland was mired in economic collapse and political repression under its Soviet-backed communist regime. Food shortages, inflation, and wage stagnation had pushed the population to the breaking point. In August of that year, workers at the Lenin Shipyard in Gdańsk went on strike after the firing of popular crane operator and activist Anna Walentynowicz. What began as a localized protest soon ballooned into a nationwide movement. Lech Wałęsa, an electrician at the shipyard and former dissident, scaled the fence to join the strike and quickly emerged as its spokesperson.

Out of this uprising came Solidarity (Solidarność), the first independent labor union in a Soviet-bloc country. Within months, it had over 10 million members, nearly one-third of Poland’s working-age population. It wasn’t just a union. It became a civic movement demanding free speech, independent courts, religious freedom, and an end to state censorship and surveillance. The Catholic Church, led by Polish-born Pope John Paul II, lent moral support, while underground presses and local organizing committees built a resilient infrastructure beneath the surface of authoritarian control.

Despite martial law being declared in 1981 and the jailing of Wałęsa and many others, Solidarity never disappeared. It went underground, reorganized, and returned stronger. By 1989, amid mounting economic turmoil and growing international pressure, the Polish government agreed to semi-free elections. Solidarity swept the vote. By the end of that year, communism was collapsing across Eastern Europe, and it had started with a strike in Gdańsk.

Lech Wałęsa, a simple electrician, not groomed for power, not chosen by elites, became president of Poland in 1990. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1983 and later received the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom. He didn’t rise to lead because he dreamed of it. He rose because the moment demanded it and the people trusted him. Solidarity proved that sustained, disciplined, grassroots action, anchored by working-class leadership and clear demands, could bring down even the most entrenched regimes.

The Arab Spring exploded with hope. From Tunisia to Egypt to Syria, millions rose up against authoritarianism, corruption, and economic despair. The spark came in December 2010, when Mohamed Bouazizi, a Tunisian street vendor, set himself on fire after repeated harassment by local officials, an act of desperation that ignited a wave of protests across the Arab world. In Egypt, mass demonstrations in Cairo’s Tahrir Square captured global attention, with protesters demanding the end of Hosni Mubarak’s 30-year rule. Viral slogans like “Walk Like an Egyptian” and striking images of lone protesters silhouetted against burning barricades became symbols of global resistance.

But those images masked deeper fractures. The energy on the ground was powerful but uncoordinated. There were few shared demands beyond “Mubarak must go.” Grassroots networks had been suppressed for decades, leaving little institutional memory for how to govern once the regime collapsed. The military, long the real power behind the scenes, quickly filled the vacuum. Egypt’s elected government under Mohamed Morsi was soon overthrown in a military coup led by General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, who now rules with even more iron control than Mubarak.

In other countries, the outcome was worse. In Syria, Bashar al-Assad responded to peaceful protests with military force, sparking a civil war that has killed hundreds of thousands and displaced millions. In Libya, NATO-backed regime change ousted Muammar Gaddafi but left a fractured, war-torn state behind.

The Arab Spring teaches us that courage alone is not enough. Viral images and slogans can ignite the moment, but without organization, shared vision, and a plan for the day after, even the most powerful uprising can be consumed by the forces it seeks to defeat. Movements need infrastructure, strategy, and unity, not just a spark, but a fire that knows where to go. What the Arab Spring also revealed is that it isn't just the oppressed who are ready to seize the moment; the corrupt, the powerful, and the self-serving are just as prepared to reassert control. Vacuums of power are rarely left empty for long, and those who benefit from repression are often the first to regroup and reimpose their rule.

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People keep asking: Who will lead our uprising?

The better question is: what conditions allow leadership to emerge? The answer isn’t a celebrity or a savior, it’s trust, built in the trenches. Solidarity gave us Wałęsa. The Civil Rights Movement gave us leaders because it had churches, unions, and community networks behind it. In the U.S. today, we are still mostly clear on what we don’t want: fascism, corporate rule, ecological collapse, but we may be less united on what we’re building.

This is our work now. To define the post-, not just the anti-. To make climate justice inseparable from economic justice, from racial justice, from healthcare, from dignity. Because caring for one must mean caring for all.

The breach is open. The pustule has come to a head. And history is calling us to step through, not into chaos, but into co-creation. Not toward a messiah, but toward a movement.

Let’s seize the momentum. Let’s write the blueprint. Let’s build what comes next.