No More Days of Rage?

In another time, just a few years ago, the events of this past few weeks would have ignited furious protests, breathless media coverage, and a flood of discourse on social media. Yet today, the response has been muted, almost eerily so.

Take the case of Daniel Penny, the former Marine who put Jordan Neely, a homeless man experiencing a mental health crisis, into a fatal chokehold on a New York City subway. Penny was acquitted of all charges. In 2020, such a verdict would have brought tens of thousands into the streets. The media would have dissected every angle. Politicians and activists would have pushed out forceful statements. Yet today? Barely a murmur.

At the same time, the Supreme Court heard United States v. Skrmetti, a case that could determine the future of gender-affirming care for teens. The early indicators are troubling for progressives: a majority of justices seem likely to uphold bans on such care, signaling a loss for trans rights. The decision won’t come until summer, but the outcome feels almost foregone. And still—where is the public outcry?

This quiet extends beyond the courts. Even the looming specter of Trump’s second term hasn’t sparked the hysteria of 2016. Where are the marches? The teary think pieces? The sense of existential dread? The anger, it seems, has cooled. The opposition feels more resigned than revolutionary.

Perhaps the most emblematic moment of this shift came from Jamaal Bowman, the New York congressman who tweeted a half-hearted attempt at provocation: the dreaded “Dear White People” post. It wasn’t just cringe-worthy; it felt dated, a tired echo of an increasingly out-of-step rhetoric. Bowman’s tweet barely rippled through the news cycle, a sign that both the message and the medium have lost their potency.

Burnout and the Exhaustion of Constant Outrage

The quiet might be less about apathy and more about burnout. It’s hard to sustain the emotional and physical energy of the protests that dominated 2020. For months that year, Americans marched in cities across the country, fueled by the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and propelled by a sense that criminal justice reform was urgent and achievable. People put their bodies on the line, their lives on pause.

But activism at that level exacts a cost. Four years later, many have found themselves disillusioned or exhausted. It’s not just that the movement failed to achieve sweeping, systemic reforms; it’s that the momentum has largely dissipated, replaced with a grim resignation that these issues—racism, policing, systemic injustice—may be too big to fix.

Add to that the reality of an economy that feels stretched thin, especially for the younger, working-class progressives who formed the backbone of those protests. Rent is high, wages feel stagnant, and many simply don’t have the bandwidth to rally around causes that once defined their identity. When daily life feels like a struggle, political activism becomes a luxury.

Perhaps people also feel burned by the experience of 2020 itself. The summer of protests was hailed as a turning point, but for many, the reality of what followed—broken promises, political inertia, and performative gestures from corporations and politicians—feels disheartening. The idealism that powered those movements has been eroded by exhaustion and cynicism.

Gaza and the Shift in Progressive Energy

At the same time, progressive activism hasn’t disappeared—it’s shifted. Israel’s war in Gaza has become the defining cause of the moment, particularly for younger activists. Protests against “Zionism”, calls for ceasefires, and demands to end U.S. military aid to Israel have dominated the activist landscape in 2024. College campuses are once again sites of organizing and unrest, echoing the anti-war movements of the 1960s.

This shift in focus has displaced causes like criminal justice reform and trans rights from the center of progressive politics. Whereas the fight for trans rights and criminal justice reform has often felt incremental, slow, and subject to the court’s whims, the Israel-Palestine conflict feels immediate and existential, and if they just have one more campus occupation Israel will fold and then…well “from the river to the sea” isn’t exactly ambiguous.

And for many young progressives, there’s a political and moral clarity to Gaza that is harder to find in America’s fractured, hyperpolarized debates. Protesting police violence or restrictions on gender-affirming care often means grappling with nuance: How do we define justice? How do we weigh reform versus abolition? Who gets to lead these movements? Much easier to pretend Israel bad, Gaza good, despite the relationship between Jewish and Arab populations and the history of the Levant being one of the most complicated issues of modern history.

This shift has left domestic causes, particularly those tied to racial justice and LGBTQ+ rights, feeling neglected. The once-omnipresent calls for “defunding the police” or protecting trans youth have largely faded from the conversation, replaced by slogans like “Free Palestine” and “End Apartheid.” The energy has moved elsewhere, even as challenges like Daniel Penny’s acquittal and U.S. v. Skrmetti persist.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The days of constant rage—of viral protests, viral tweets, viral outrage—seem to be behind us. Whether it’s exhaustion, shifting priorities, or a reckoning with excess, the landscape feels quieter. But it’s worth asking: Is this a sign of growth or defeat?

Perhaps the fever pitch of 2020 was unsustainable. Movements ebb and flow, and the quiet of the moment might simply be a pause before the next big wave. On the other hand, the muted reaction to events like Penny’s acquittal could signal a deeper apathy—an unwillingness or inability to keep fighting battles that feel unwinnable.

At the same time, Gaza shows that progressive energy hasn’t disappeared entirely; it’s simply migrated. Activism is still alive, just reoriented toward an international struggle that feels more immediate, urgent, and morally clear.

History has a way of surprising us. For now, the streets are quieter. But the rage may not be gone—it may just be waiting.