I’m sitting at the Ambassadors Hotel in downtown Adelaide, Australia. Primarily, I’m here to promote Amir Amirani’s documentary film We Are Many, which details the history of the antiwar movement in the post-9/11 world.

Without question, Amir’s film is fascinating and informative, but it’s also heart-wrenching. Amir’s film is like a psychedelic journey through the past thirteen years of my life. It elicits a whole gamut of emotions: anger, depression, inspiration, frustration and motivation. In a little less than two hours, it’s all there.

During the film, my legs were shaking, my palms sweating and my heart breaking as I reflected on where I was during the various periods of the film. Throughout the documentary, there’s a sort of clock/calendar that counts down the days until the invasion (March 19, 2003).

In the early part of the 21st century, I was an ignorant eighteen year old kid from the Rust Belt who joined the Marine Corps for adventure, travel and because I had an obsession with violence and masculinity. Like most teenagers, I had no idea what the hell I was getting myself into.

In some ways, the film is a lesson. It teaches us that protests alone simply don’t stop wars. Looking back, it was striking just how naïve many of the antiwar activists, organizers and intellectuals were leading up to the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Again and again during the film protesters ask questions and make statements like, “Why didn’t Blair and Bush listen to us?” Or, “We thought if we just came out one more time that we would stop the war.” In hindsight, it was unsophisticated thinking.

Those portions of the film were particularly frustrating. Of all the movements I’ve worked with over the years (antiwar, labor, environmental, antiracist, etc.), the antiwar movement was the least strategic, the most boastful, the least organized, and the most pompous.

For obvious reasons, I wasn’t involved with the antiwar movement during the years leading up to the invasion: I was in bootcamp, the school of infantry and then Iraq.

Looking back, however, it’s more than clear that people didn’t really know what else to do, beyond street protests, symbolic actions, and getting arrested. In turn, these people would ask, “Why aren’t more people joining us?” Or, “Why won’t the powers that be listen to us?”

There was no unified vision. And that was obvious during Amir’s film, as one of the founding members of Iraq Veterans Against the War, Tim Goodrich, notes that he was all for the bombing and occupation in Afghanistan, but not Iraq. For me, Goodrich’s politics illustrates one of the primary difficulties the antiwar movement has always faced in the U.S. — the inability to develop a coherent critique and vision for the future.

Some antiwar protesters were simply people who hated Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld. Others were opposed to Iraq, but not Afghanistan. Some protesters were opposed to U.S. imperialism, but not Russian imperialism (these groups were usually sectarian in nature). Very few people in the antiwar movement understood that the entire U.S. Empire must be challenged and dismantled. To be honest, the libertarians have been much more consistent than the Left, and that’s not because they walk lock-step, but because they have a coherent worldview, whereas leftists, progressives and liberals do not.

All of this has played out in horrific ways during the Obama years. Some people opposed NATO’s intervention in Libya, while others supported it on humanitarian grounds. The same is true today regarding the situation in Syria. Various leftists support Russian bombing; others don’t. Some leftists support the Free Syrian Army; others support leftwing Kurdish groups. These fractures within the antiwar are more than apparent during my current trip to Australia.

About a week ago, I attended a wonderful event which was organized by Green Left Weekly, a publication associated with the Socialist Alliance. As soon as I entered the facility, my good friend Pip came up to me, visibly frustrated, and said, “The Australian Left is completely split on Syria.” Of course, I knew what the split was about: Assad. Who supports him? Who doesn’t? Are Russian bombs welcomed, or shunned?

To me, these are worthwhile debates to have, but should not be the primary focus of the antiwar movement in Australia, Europe or North America, a point I’ll return to.

Several nights later, I had a speaking engagement in downtown Sydney. The event was organized by the Communist Party of Australia and the Marrickville Peace Group. For the most part, the audience of about 50 people was great. But there’s always one, or two, and they’re usually the loudest in the room. This time, it was a gentleman with an Assad t-shirt who interrupted my talk on two separate occasions, until I finally told him to shut up or get out of the room. The audience was happy. No one wants to hear a heckler, nor do they want to engage with rabid sectarians.

After my talk, we held the usual Q & A session. Unfortunately, the average age of the antiwar crowd was probably 55 years old. Again, none of this is new for anyone who’s been working with the antiwar movement. When I first got involved with Iraq Veterans Against the War, I was surprised and saddened that the vast majority of the people we spoke with over the years were, as we used to say, “old, white and grey.” Since 2006, maybe a third of the people we’ve worked with were under the age of 30, so it should come as no surprise that the antiwar movement is virtually nonexistent, both in Australia and North America.

Undoubtedly, antiwar activists are fantastic analysts and protestors, but when it comes to actual community organizing, they have little idea of how to move forward. The Left can make fun of unions and NGOs all they like, and in most cases they probably deserve the criticism, but at least those groups can organize successful campaigns. Conversely, after almost ten years of doing antiwar work, I have yet to engage in a meaningful or even quasi-successful antiwar campaign.

Sure, we organized plenty of protests, some of them huge. We testified to congress, painted buildings, wrote articles, made films, penned poems, chained ourselves to the White House gates, cried on TV and produced plenty of YouTube videos and scathing Facebook posts, but we never won a goddamn thing. And that’s the brutal truth, whether antiwar activists wish to admit it or not.

We never shut down a military base. We never seriously challenged the weapons manufacturers. We never demilitarized college campuses. And we never stopped future wars, drone strikes, surveillance operations or torture campaigns.

Yet, to be fair, as Noam Chomsky has pointed out in the past, the protests and public pressure did save lives. There’s no doubt about that. I agree with Chomsky’s assessment that the U.S. couldn’t wage the sort of genocidal campaign it previously waged in Vietnam. After all, people in the U.S. didn’t protest the Vietnam War until it was in full-swing. That’s something to recognize. But should we celebrate these invisible or small victories? Maybe so, but I can’t.

Why? Because for the last ten years of my life things have only gotten worse in the international arena. There are more wars, more drone strikes, more surveillance, more weapons, more destabilization, more proxy campaigns and now, as some have come to call it, a new Cold War 2.o. In short, things are not looking good.

On the domestic front, both in Australia and the U.S., social movements are growing. In the U.S., the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement has had limited success and has been able to garner the support of young people. The environmental movement is growing. And in some ways, the labor movement is becoming more sophisticated, particularly groups like the Chicago Teachers Union. The Fight for $15 movement is continuing to organize, and regardless of what the cynics say, it’s refreshing to see Americans gravitate towards Bernie Sanders presidential bid.

In some ways, Sanders’ campaign is a reflection of the Left’s impotency in American politics, but also it’s limited influence. To put differently, Sanders’ has been forced to talk about black issues because black people are putting pressure on him and others to do so. The labor movement has been fighting against Obama’s disastrous TPP trade deal and the legacy of the Occupy movement has forced even Republican presidential candidates to talk about income inequality. The environmental movement has forced the entire Democratic Party to at least pay lip service to climate change and ecological destruction. But the antiwar movement is nowhere to be found. The 2016 presidential elections reflect this unfortunate reality.

Furthermore, Sanders isn’t stupid. He would be absolutely crushed if he critiqued the U.S. Empire, or its drone program. The right-wing press, and even many liberal outlets, are already having a field day with the fact that he calls himself a Democratic Socialist. I can only imagine what they would say if he became as outspoken about the U.S. Empire as he has income inequality, trade deals and so on. This is what happens when there’s not an antiwar movement: the most progressive candidate for U.S. President doesn’t say a peep about foreign policy, and in fact supports some of its more brutal aspects (drones, proxy wars, Israel).

Here, I’m critical not of Bernie, as I expect U.S. politicians to be subservient to the U.S. Empire: I’m critical of his supporters and the antiwar movement who’s been unable to build its numbers or bring more people into the mix. In short, we’re bad organizers. Without doubt, we have great analysts and commentators. Hell, I can name 1,000: Tariq Ali, Vijay Prashad, Patrick Cockburn, Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, Phyllis Bennis, Kathy Kelly, David Swanson, Robert Fisk, Deepa Kumar, and the list goes on, and on. Yet, the movement lacks people who can effectively organize broad swaths of the U.S. population around issues of militarism, empire, torture, drones, etc.

When people do organize, groups such as CodePink, for example, simply conduct symbolic actions. It’s the same faces in the same places. These groups live and work in the Beltway. They perform circus like stunts for the cameras in the hope of what? Embarrassing those in power? Once again, the antiwar movement is dominated with hippy-types who don’t understand power. They think that by throwing fake blood in the face of Condoleezza Rice, somehow we’re going to make up for the fact that we can’t conduct meaningful campaigns, campaigns that can actually stop bombs from being dropped and people from being slaughtered. Symbolic actions are prevalent in Amir’s film.

The two gentlemen who painted “No War” on the Sydney Opera House, Dave and Will, are also in town for the Adelaide Film Festival. They performed an amazing symbolic action, even risking their lives to make their statement. But they don’t consider themselves brave. In fact, for them, it was just another action. Dave, a lifelong environmental activist, has participated in many militant actions throughout Australia. He’s locked on, fought with loggers, dodged bullets and batons. He’s the real deal, and he’s committed to radical politics. Will, a professional astronomer, told me last night that he needs to get off his ass and get more involved. He’s been active in the past, but like most people, he has a life outside of protests and radical politics. Most importantly, they don’t consider themselves heroes. As they both told me last night, “It was the least we could do under the circumstances. We’re middle class white guys, so we should put our lives on the line.” I agree.

However, they simultaneously understand that we need to build an actual movement, not a loosely affiliated group of antiwar activists who occasionally see each other at protests and large-scale actions, only to go home to a nonexistent movement. We need our neighbors involved, our coworkers and family members. I’ve long thought, “If we can’t organize those closest to us, then how can we expect to organize strangers?” Obviously, it’s not always that simple, but for the most part, I think my concerns have some validity.

During the Bush-era, I traveled throughout the U.S. with Iraq Veterans Against the War, giving talks to church groups, labor unions, environmental activists and community organizations. When I returned home, it was life as usual. My neighbors would sit and listen to what they considered exotic stories of police abuse, large rallies and politically charged fundraisers, yet I could never plug them into what we were doing. Plus, I had a terrible attitude, another thing that’s prevalent on the antiwar Left.

At that time, we couldn’t understand why people weren’t involved. How could Americans idly sit by while their government destroyed the lives of so many millions? We made moralistic arguments against the war; we made economic arguments against the war; but we never made much progress.

When Obama was elected in 2008, the Great Financial Collapse was well underway. People’s interests shifted. The Occupy movement was born. Yet, the antiwar movement was nowhere to be found. People railed against the 1% and for good reason. But we never connected America’s bloated military budget and empire with austerity and militarism at home.

In recent years, those connections have been loosely made by BLM and various other groups, but without much focus, let alone a plan of action, vision, strategy or tactics to achieve our ends. And speaking of objectives, what exactly are they? To be clear, I’m not blaming BLM or others for our collective failure, I’m much more critical of the antiwar movement in particular.

Why? Because antiwar activists are a cynical bunch. Maybe that’s reasonable in some ways, as the U.S. Empire has continually expanded since the Vietnam-era. On the other hand, the antiwar movement has a demographic problem, both in Australia and in North America. According to older activists and organizers, this has always been the case. The antiwar movement has been dominated by middle-class white people for decades. The same is true today. As a result, the movement, or what’s left of it, is utterly lacking diversity. If I had to make a crude guess, I would say that maybe 10% of the events we held were in black or brown neighborhoods.

Today, the antiwar movement is battling severe levels of cynicism. Almost every antiwar activist and organizer I’ve spoken with in Australia has informed me that their former organizations have all but vanished. It doesn’t matter if I’m in Adelaide, Brisbane, Sydney, Canberra or Melbourne, the story is the same.

Instead of feeding the cynicism, however, I’ve been challenging my antiwar friends. I’m not interested in sitting around with people and bullshitting about how we’re so much smarter and moral than the people who’ve failed to devote their lives to antiwar organizing. I want to speak with people about how we can be more effective as an international movement.

What lessons have we learned in the post-9/11 world? What actions and organizing techniques should we discard, and what methods should we revisit? Again, the problem is that the antiwar movement is lacking actual organizers, particularly at the community level.

I think part of the dilemma is that people see activists like Kathy Kelly and Media Benjamin and ask themselves, “How do I fit into this?” While both individuals, and those like them, should be praised and respected, not everyone can do what Kathy and Media do: travel overseas, get arrested, spend time in jail, etc. That sort of activism is simply unsustainable for the vast majority of Americans and Australians. We need more practical examples. Again, we need to work on the local level.

The antiwar movement is great at organizing national and even international events, but not at organizing their neighbors, coworkers, friends and family members.

When I worked with Iraq Veterans Against the War, we spent much more time traveling the country than we did with local political groups. Unfortunately, that didn’t work, nor did it build our power. People went home demoralized, and rightly so, for it’s extremely difficult to go to an event with thousands of like-minded people, only to come home to the daily, mundane existence that is modern American life.

Moving along, many antiwar activists hold the false assumption that people simply walked away from antiwar organizing following the 2003 protests and the 2008 election. Sure, some folks did go home. They were burnt out, exhausted and disempowered. On the other hand, many people continued to organize, but in different arenas. Some of the people I first met while doing antiwar work are now labor organizers, artists, environmental activists and university professors. Others now work for NGOs, immigrant rights groups and healthcare organizations. The same is true of Occupy. The myth that people simply “went home” is nonsense. Yes, they did go home, as occupying Zucatti park was not sustainable in the longterm, but they went home to create new organizations and movements fighting to stop the closing of schools, mental health facilities and so forth.

Amir, born in Iran but educated and now living in England, is not interested in reliving the glory days with his film. The 2003 protests were the first protests he ever attended, and it changed his life forever. He’s devoted the last eight years of his life, I’m sure some of his personal health and undoubtedly a good portion of his limited finances, to produce We Are Many. After several conversations with Amir, it’s clear that he’s interested in one thing, and one thing only: rebuilding a vibrant, international antiwar movement capable of stopping imperial wars, drone strikes, surveillance and torture. I didn’t meet Amir until arriving in Australia, so all of this was music to my ears. I could tell he was excited as well.

He’s committed to traveling the world and using his film as a tool to inspire a new wave of antiwar movements. He’s not interested in sectarian arguments or online bantering sessions. He’s extremely creative, no doubt, but he’s also thoughtful and concerned with the future of the world and the consequences of increased militarism. In other words, he’s not just another artist looking for accolades.

In the end, there’s no doubt that cinema is a powerful medium, maybe the most powerful of all. Amir’s film brought up reflections and emotions I haven’t felt in years, and that’s exactly what films are supposed to do. It’s one thing to read about the wars, or to speak with fellow activists and friends about militarism, empire and remote control assassinations, but it’s quite another thing to see the images and sounds mayhem.

In fact, film changed my entire life’s trajectory. Without Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11, I might have never turned against the war. I would like to assume that my own experiences and reflections would have eventually led to a shifting consciousness, but I’ll never know.

A week prior to my second deployment to Iraq, my friend took me to a San Diego movie theater to see Fahrenheit. The rest is history. Those two hours sent me on a twelve year journey. In many ways, Amir’s film documents those twelve years. In that way, the film was extraordinarily personal. The war in Iraq defined my late teenage years and early twenties, and antiwar activism has defined my life ever since. At this point, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For me, it’s a personal responsibility, and to be quite honest, it keeps me alive. I don’t know what I would do without activist work and writing. Well, to be brutally honest, I would’ve most likely killed myself years ago. This work keeps me focused, disciplined and motivated. I’m motivated by anger and love. I have unlimited love for those who’ve been victims of empire and violence, but I also have an unlimited supply of anger for those who perpetrate such madness.

Simply embarrassing those in power isn’t good enough. I want them in jail. I want our military bases closed and the empire dismantled. In order to do so, we need to build power, because power is the only thing the elites respect and understand.

When people say, as they often do, “Vince, you’re so brave and courageous to do this work. Thank you so much,” I tell them, “The people who are truly courageous are the Iraqi union workers who can be imprisoned, tortured and murdered simply for organizing. The real heroes are the Afghan Women for Peace. I’m not a hero, nor courageous. This is the least I can do.”

As Alice Walker says, “Activism is my rent for living on the planet.” When people tell me, “Thank you,” I respond by saying, “If you really want to thank me, which I don’t think is necessary, just get involved. Devote some of your time, if not a significant portion, to creating a better world. That’s a good place to start.”

For those who are still interested in doing antiwar work, or peace and justice work, or whatever you want to call it, let’s start reaching out to each other. Let’s create new coalitions. Let’s drop the sectarian bullshit. Chances are, we agree on 90% of the issues. Yet we allow the 10% to get in the way. That’s unacceptable. This isn’t about my ego, pride, my career or legacy, it’s about saving peoples’ lives and creating a most just and peaceful world. I’m sure all of us, myself included, could spend less time in front of our computers and more time speaking with those who are interested in rebuilding a serious antiwar movement. What are we waiting for?

War is hell, no doubt, but so is stagnation and powerlessness.

Vincent Emanuele can be reached at vincent.emanuele333@gmail.com