I first watched "The Great Dictator" in one of those dimly-lit screening rooms at City College — the kind where time stands still between flickering celluloid and creaky theater seats. Back then, Chaplin's final monologue felt like a relic, a passionate cry from a distant era I thought was long gone. There I was, a young, idealistic, and slightly jaded student, watching a black and white film about a struggle that seemed consigned to history books. Little did I know how prophetic those words would become less than 30 years later.
If you haven’t watched the film, picture the plot – and as the disclaimer goes, “any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental” 😉:
The year is 1940, and the world is drowning in the rising tide of fascism. Nazi Germany’s toxic ideology of hate and division is steamrolling across Europe. In an absurd twist of fate, a Jewish barber finds himself mistaken for the fascist leader of a fictional country called Tomainia — and uses this totally bonkers twist of fate to deliver a powerful message denouncing hatred and calling for global unity.
In the first spoken role of his entire career, Charlie Chaplin — a comedian, a filmmaker, an artist — does something audaciously radical: He makes a comedy mocking the monster himself, Adolf H*tler. Chaplin dared to not just directly confront the most terrifying political machine of the era, but to do so with satire, humanity, and an uncompromising moral message — not with weapons.
"The Great Dictator" wasn't just a film. It was a big, fat middle finger to tyranny wrapped in celluloid.” ~ER
While most of Hollywood cowered in silence, Chaplin created a bold, satirical takedown of totalitarianism. The film's final speech— which he delivered by breaking character and speaking directly to the audience — is, to this day, one of the most powerful acts of nonviolent resistance in the history of film.
His monologue is a masterclass in nonviolent resistance – artivism at its finest. In a true act of defiance and commitment to his beliefs, he exposed the absurdity of hate, the weakness of tyranny, and the true strength of compassion. He understood then that for true change to come about, we can’t just edit a broken system — we must completely reimagine it.
Yet his vision doesn’t require taking up arms or demonizing the enemy — as many are wont to do nowadays. Instead, he imagined a world in which "more than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness." That is to say, in a world that worships and rewards toxic masculinity, we must choose compassion and empathy. In a world that submits to oppression, we must stand up in solidarity.
Today, as we find ourselves potentially darting towards a similar fate, his call to action rings truer than ever. And yes, I know not everyone can run for office, lead a protest or, like Chaplin, create a cinematic masterpiece. But everyone—and I mean everyone—can be a quiet revolutionary.
Much as it gets a bad rap, resistance isn't always explosive or dramatic. Sometimes it's as simple as showing up and refusing to be silent. It's about turning every interaction into a small act of rebellion against systemic injustice: How we have conversations. How we spend our money. How we treat people. How we see the world. How we choose truth, empathy, creativity, and a blind faith in humanity even when the world seems hell-bent on proving us wrong.
For that wide-eyed film student who once watched Chaplin's speech with jaded amusement, what once seemed like the naive idealism of early Hollywood now resonates as profound truth. Almost thirty years later, she’s come face to face with its ultimate message: Sometimes, the most revolutionary act is remembering we’re more powerful than the systems that try to subjugate us.
Building a strong opposition movement is like editing a subversive film: it becomes more powerful when each moment is carefully chosen to defy the absurdity of oppression. Here are some low-cost, high-impact ways to become a “quiet revolutionary” into your every day:
Care For Your Community
One of the biggest takeaways from “The Great Dictator” is that resistance starts locally – Our main character, the barber, risks everything to help his neighbors in the ghetto. Which makes sense, as our community is our first line of defense. Every person protected, every donated sock is a middle finger to systems that want us isolated and afraid:
Stock community mini pantries with food and supplies
Organize backpack drives for local schools
Create an ICE Watch network
Donate clothes, blankets
Volunteer at local shelters
Support local small businesses
Frequent your local library and post office
Use Humor as a Weapon of Resistance
As Chaplin demonstrated, our laugh can be more threatening to authoritarianism than any raised fist. Wit, art, comedy, and storytelling have historically been proven effective in deflating oppressive ideologies and exposing systemic absurdities to a larger audience:
Share memes that expose hypocrisy
Develop quick, witty responses to microaggressions
Use inside jokes that build community resilience
Support comedy that punches up, not down
Practice Digital Defiance
Much like Chaplin used film — the available technology at the time — as a form of satirical resistance against fascism, we all can effectively use modern technology and platforms to resist oppression. We can make algorithms work for humanity:
Learn how to protect your cyber-self
Use encrypted messaging to organize community actions
Create online wish lists for local shelters
Amplify voices the mainstream media tries to silence
Use screenshots and shares as acts of rebellion
Start a “resistance” reading group
Support unbiased, independent media
Use whatever platform you have—social media, local meetings, family dinners—to challenge harmful narratives and document injustice
Maintain Dignity Under Pressure
One of the go-to tactics for the forces of oppression is systematic dehumanization. When the jewish barber in the film was forced into discriminatory zones, he fought to retain his self-respect. Likewise, we must remember that our dignity cannot be “executive-ordered” away. We must refuse to be dehumanized:
Reject, challenge and call out systems that seek to degrade us and others
Use language that de-escalates conflict
Stand up for someone being mistreated, even in small ways
Refuse to participate in systems or conversations that diminish human worth
Tiny Acts of Rebellion = Big Quiet Revolutions
Just as the barber seized the moment he unexpectedly found himself on a global stage, we must turn our every moment into a tiny act of rebellion:
Pay for someone's coffee anonymously
Keep emergency supplies in your car and share with those who need them
Partner with local schools and churches to fill volunteer gaps
Offer to help an elderly or sick neighbor
Support grassroots organizations pushing for housing, racial justice, food security
“Resistance doesn’t have to be loud. But if we persist, our quiet little whispers can turn into revolutionary monologues.” ~ER
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