The shape of activism is changing, and there's a theory that explains why it's winning.

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There's an oft-quoted statistic about social and political movements based on research by Harvard academic Erica Chenowith. 

She found that when at least 3.5 per cent of a population engages with a cause, that cause is very likely to succeed.

On Sunday, an estimated 300,000 people took to the Sydney Harbour Bridge to demand an end to Israel's blockade of aid coming into Gaza. 

In terms of percentages, that's 5.4 percent of the population of Sydney.

Listen: Gaza is starving — here's what you can do to help. Post continues below.

Chenowith's book, co-authored with political scientist Maria Stephan, is entitled Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict, is the cornerstone of the research that came up with this magic number. It analysed hundreds of political resistance campaigns, both violent and nonviolent, from 1900 to 2006, in order to make the findings. 

For the people who have been engaged in activism in the pro-Palestinian space for the past few years (and even more importantly, those who have been involved for decades before that), the sight of so many Sydneysiders braving the rain to unite for a humanitarian cause was the result of what has, at times, felt like screaming into a void. 

"I was in tears all day," a friend who joined the march told me. "It was so peaceful, so respectful, and so moving. An old Palestinian man who was marching alongside us turned to us at one point, and said 'thank you so, so much for being here.' Another older woman, who was unsteady on her feet was surrounded by a group of people who made a circle around her, in order to make sure she marched safely."

The shape of activism is changing.

There's an image that comes into your mind when you hear the term 'activist'. Maybe they have body piercings and multicoloured hair. Maybe they wear combat boots and throw red paint on people in fur. Maybe they paint slogans in blood across their bare chests.

And let me be clear: among these 'stereotypes' are some of the best types of people. Society needs them. 

That said, the fact that they are who we think of when we typically consider what activism looks like has perhaps successfully kept protesting in the realm of "over there" for too long. 

Yesterday's protest was not that. Mothers. Children. Octogenarians. Small business owners. Big business owners. People took to the streets for a cause that united them not through identity politics, but through humanity. 

And while the pro-Palestinian movement in Australia may appear to be reaching critical mass, it's one of many examples of a reinvestment in the power of activism by decidedly … non-activisty people. 

Take the No Kings protests that occurred earlier this year across the United States. These protests, organised on June 14, 2025, were a response to what organisers called "authoritarian actions" by the Trump administration. The No Kings march drew millions of pro-democracy participants across over 2,000 cities and towns, making it one of the largest single-day protests in American history. 

So why the shift? 

Everyone has a 'red line'.

According to Chenowith's own research, non-violent activism has been decreasing in effectiveness and success since around 2010. She and others have hypothesised this is due to savvier state responses — wherein governments are swifter to subdue protest movements, or the increase in online activism, which lowers the barrier to entry but tends to provide only a short-term impact. 

Others theorise that the onslaught of the pandemic, increasing algorithmic divides, global tragedy on an epic scale and a widespread increase in depression and anxiety has left us, for want of a better phrase, without any fight left in us. 

And yet something has shifted in the past few months. 

Part of it, in direct conflict with theories about online activism dampening the effectiveness of movement, must surely be increased access to first-hand accounts of atrocities via social media. 

There are only so many shrouded, tiny bodies a mother on the other side of the world can see lined up on her Instagram feed before she brings her own seven-year-old child out in the rain to demand her government takes action.

Growing inequality breeds more passionate protestors.

When Luigi Mangione allegedly shot unarmed United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson outside a Manhattan hotel, the overwhelming public response was telling. 

He was lauded as a modern Robin Hood, meme-ified, fetishised and championed. But it wasn't just about Mangione. It was a sign social inequality was beginning to bleed outside the lines of what the masses had become accustomed to accepting.

Part of the wider trend in activism might have something to do with this — and an economic theory called the Gini coefficient. In simple terms, the Gini coefficient is a tool to measure how evenly a country's wealth and income are spread out. 

In a society where everyone was paid the same and had the same access to wealth and prosperity, the Gini coefficient is 0. Now, picture the opposite: a single person holding all the money, and everyone else has none. That's a Gini coefficient of one (or 100 on some scales). 

Most countries fall somewhere in the middle, and the number tells you just how much their society deviates from perfect equality. It's in the interest of everyone for this number to be as low as possible. 

For those without huge amounts of wealth or power, it helps keep them alive, but even for those who hold the balance of wealth and power, keeping that number in check is crucial for maintaining civil stability. 

The Gini coefficient in developed countries has shown a variety of trends in recent decades, but the overall picture is one of increasing or, at best, stable inequality. The COVID-19 pandemic brought about a small decrease, but the bounce-back impact has been profound.

Add to this increasing encroachments on civil liberties in the US, a country that is in many ways still our cultural canary down the coalmine, and you get an upswing in uprisings.

In other words: things get really bad before they get good again. 

And right now, things are undeniably really bad for a lot of the world. 

But more of us than ever are finding that we've still got some fight left in us after all.

Feature image: Getty.