Musa al-Gharbi offers a startling historical mirror to our current cultural moment, arguing that the modern 'Great Awokening' is not a novel phenomenon but the latest iteration of a century-old cycle of elite activism that often alienates the very people it claims to champion. By revisiting George Orwell's The Road to Wigan Pier, al-Gharbi exposes how well-meaning social justice advocates frequently prioritize their own moral purity over effective coalition-building, a dynamic that has repeatedly derailed progressive movements since the 1920s.
The Gap Between Theory and Lived Reality
Al-Gharbi begins by dissecting Orwell's struggle to bridge the chasm between affluent, white-collar socialists and the working class they sought to represent. The author notes that Orwell faced a dual obstacle: his target audience had never held a manual job, and they harbored deep-seated, inaccurate prejudices about the poor despite their political leanings. Orwell's solution was radical empathy through immersion. He didn't just theorize; he lived in the squalor of miners' hotels and trekked through the mines to witness the physical toll of labor. Al-Gharbi highlights how Orwell connected the comfortable lives of his readers directly to the exploitation of workers, noting that the electricity and conveniences they took for granted were subsidized by the "ghost work" of the poor.
"When someone works for less pay than she can live on— when, for example, she goes hungry so that you can eat more cheaply and conveniently— then she has made a great sacrifice for you, she has made you a gift of some part of her abilities, her health and her life."
This framing is powerful because it shifts the narrative from charity to systemic interdependence. The working poor are not merely victims; they are the anonymous benefactors of the middle class. However, al-Gharbi suggests that modern activists often fail to make this connection, instead viewing the working class through a lens of romanticized abstraction or moral judgment. Critics might argue that this focus on class solidarity overlooks the very real, distinct struggles of racial and gender minorities that intersectional frameworks aim to address. Yet, al-Gharbi's point stands: ignoring the material reality of economic hardship in favor of abstract moralizing creates a barrier to genuine solidarity.
The Stereotypes That Kill Movements
The commentary then pivots to the specific narratives that alienate the working class. Al-Gharbi details how Orwell systematically dismantled the myths held by his socialist contemporaries: that the unemployed were lazy, that poverty was a result of financial irresponsibility, or that the poor were content with their lot. These were not just incorrect ideas; they were functional tools that justified social distance. Orwell realized that these narratives allowed affluent activists to feel superior while maintaining the status quo. As al-Gharbi writes, these views "do work" by helping to justify inequalities and the social distance that white-collar professionals enforce.
"Sometimes I look at a Socialist – the intellectual, tract-writing type of Socialist, with his pullover, his fuzzy hair, and his Marxian quotation—and wonder what devil his motive really is. It is often difficult to believe that it is love of anybody, especially the working class, from whom he is of all people most alien."
This is perhaps the most stinging observation in the piece. Al-Gharbi argues that the "symbolic capitalists"—the educated elite who drive the culture war—are often perceived by the working class as unappealing, joyless, and out of touch. The argument suggests that the aesthetic and behavioral choices of the activist class can be as much of a barrier as policy disagreements. This lands with particular force in an era where social media activism often rewards performative outrage over substantive engagement. The risk here, however, is that focusing too heavily on the "unappealing" nature of activists can devolve into a dismissal of legitimate grievances regarding systemic oppression, rather than a critique of the method of advocacy.
The Cycle of the Great Awokening
Al-Gharbi introduces a provocative historical thesis: the current cultural moment is not unique but part of a recurring pattern he calls the "Great Awokening." He draws a direct line from the 1920s and 30s to the present, noting that each era features a surge in radical activism that eventually devolves into a culture war, paving the way for right-wing backlash. Orwell described the 1920s as a time when England was "nearer to revolution than she has been since," yet this revolutionary feeling was followed by a reversal and significant right-wing gains. Al-Gharbi points out that the specific tropes of today—binary oppressor/oppressed frameworks, the focus on language, and the coalition of disparate movements—have deep historical roots.
"One sometimes gets the impression that the mere words 'Socialism' and 'Communism' draw towards them with magnetic force every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex maniac, Quaker, 'Nature Cure' quack, pacifist and feminist in England."
By quoting Orwell's description of the eclectic, often fringe coalition that surrounded early socialism, al-Gharbi illustrates how the movement became defined by its most extreme or eccentric elements rather than its core economic message. The author argues that this "intersectional" approach, while well-intentioned, often leads to a situation where nothing significant is achieved for any individual cause because the movement is too broad and unfocused. The core of the argument is that when the main cause—economic justice—is derailed by a thousand niche agendas, the movement loses its power. This is a difficult pill to swallow for modern progressives who view intersectionality as a non-negotiable moral imperative. Yet, al-Gharbi's historical evidence suggests that the failure to prioritize a unified economic message has been a recurring fatal flaw.
The Danger of Moral Purity
The piece concludes by examining the psychological drivers behind these movements. Al-Gharbi notes that many activists are driven by a need to expiate their own guilt rather than a genuine desire to uplift the oppressed. Orwell described this as a desire to "submerge myself, to get right down among the oppressed, to be one of them and on their side against the tyrants," driven by an "immense weight of guilt." Al-Gharbi argues that this self-focused motivation often manifests as a rigid, joyless moralism that repels the very people it aims to help.
"The best argument for Christianity is Christians: their joy, their certainty, their completeness. But the strongest argument against Christianity is also Christians--when they are somber and joyless, when they are self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration, when they are narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand deaths."
Al-Gharbi applies this logic to socialism, suggesting that the movement's image is determined not by its theory, but by the people who embody it. If the people leading the charge appear self-righteous and disconnected from the daily struggles of the working class, the ideology itself becomes toxic. This is a crucial insight for any movement seeking broad-based support. It suggests that the style of activism is just as important as the substance. The counterargument, of course, is that the working class is not a monolith and that many workers do support progressive causes; the issue may be more about the specific tactics of the elite than the workers' inherent conservatism. Still, al-Gharbi's warning about the alienating effect of moral purity is a necessary check on the current trajectory of social justice advocacy.
"The strongest argument against Christianity is also Christians--when they are somber and joyless, when they are self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration, when they are narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand deaths."
Bottom Line
Musa al-Gharbi's analysis is a sharp, historically grounded critique of how progressive movements can self-sabotage through performative activism and a disconnect from the material realities of the working class. The strongest part of the argument is the historical parallel drawn between the 1920s and today, demonstrating that the cycle of radicalization and backlash is not a new anomaly but a recurring structural failure. Its biggest vulnerability lies in potentially underestimating the genuine, distinct grievances of marginalized groups that fall outside a strict class-based framework. Readers should watch for how this historical lens is applied to current policy debates, specifically whether the administration or executive branch can learn from these cycles to build more durable coalitions.