Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. — JFK
The Carnation Revolution was a largely bloodless coup in Portugal in 1974 that led to the establishment of democracy.
CONCLUSION
25 April 2024 is close. Will the soldiers of the world take the side of the people?
The Carnation Revolution, also known as the 25th of April Revolution, was a peaceful military coup that took place in Portugal on April 25, 1974. The revolution ended 48 years of dictatorship under the Estado Novo regime, led by Prime Minister António de Oliveira Salazar and later Marcelo Caetano. The revolution was sparked by the dissatisfaction of the Portuguese people with the government’s authoritarian rule, censorship, and colonial wars in Africa. On the morning of April 25, a group of military officers and soldiers rebelled against the government, taking control of key strategic points in Lisbon without firing a single shot. The revolution was named after the red carnations that were placed in the barrels of the soldiers’ guns and offered to them by civilians in the streets as a symbol of peace and celebration. The event led to the fall of the dictatorship, the establishment of a democratic government in Portugal, and the independence of the country’s African colonies. The Carnation Revolution is considered one of the most peaceful and successful revolutions in modern history, and it is celebrated annually in Portugal as a national holiday.
A Canadian Spring
Joe and Nelly sat on a weathered park bench in Ottawa, their breath visible in the crisp early spring air. Around them, the snow was retreating, revealing patches of stubborn dandelions—golden bursts of resilience against the drab remnants of winter.
“This is the perfect symbol,” Nelly said, plucking one of the flowers and twirling it between her fingers. “The dandelion grows where it’s not wanted, thrives where it’s ignored, and its roots run deep. Just like us.”
Joe nodded, his eyes scanning the Parliament building in the distance. “The people are ready, Nelly. They’re tired of speeches written by faceless consultants, of politicians parroting words that don’t belong to them. Parliament is a relic. It’s time for something new—something real.”
Nelly’s plan was bold, almost audacious. She had issued a challenge on social media, calling for every Member of Parliament to write and post their own speeches online, in their own words, without the help of speechwriters. The response had been mixed. Some MPs dismissed it as a stunt, others hesitated, and a brave few accepted, their words raw and unpolished but undeniably authentic.
“The dandelion,” she continued, “will be our symbol. Not the carnation, not some fancy flower cultivated in a greenhouse. The dandelion is a cure, rumored to fight cancer. And isn’t that what we’re doing? Fighting the cancer of corruption, the disease of apathy?”
Joe grinned. “You’ve got a way with words. Maybe you should write a speech.”
“I already did,” Nelly said, her eyes glinting with determination. “And I didn’t need a ghostwriter to do it.”
Their movement, dubbed the “Canadian Spring,” was gaining traction. Across the country, people were sharing photos of dandelions pinned to their jackets, tucked behind their ears, or growing defiantly in their yards. It was a quiet rebellion, but one that resonated deeply.
The turning point came when a young MP from British Columbia posted a heartfelt video. “I’ve always relied on others to find the right words for me,” she admitted. “But today, I’m speaking from the heart. And I encourage my colleagues to do the same.” Her speech, though imperfect, went viral, sparking a wave of similar posts.
As the movement grew, Joe and Nelly organized rallies where citizens could share their own stories and ideas. They set up online forums where people debated policies and proposed solutions, bypassing the traditional political system. The dandelion became more than a symbol—it became a rallying cry.
One day, as Joe and Nelly stood before a crowd of thousands on Parliament Hill, Nelly held up a bouquet of dandelions. “This is our Canada,” she declared. “Unpolished, resilient, and full of potential. We don’t need polished speeches or empty promises. We need action. We need honesty. And we need each other.”
The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices carrying the spirit of change across the city. For the first time in years, Joe felt a spark of hope. The Canadian Spring had begun, and there was no turning back.