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Traveling Now to Politics: NUTS!
So right now I am so sick of politics I could kick a stump. I could go full mountain man, live in a hut in the woods and trap muskrats for sustenance. I could quit every political origination I belong to, stop watching the news and reading blogs and putting an effort into forming my opinions. I could find distractions, so many wonderful distractions that could keep me utterly divorced from what is going on my nation. I could watch reality shows about cooking, and art, and music. Music! I could utterly immerse myself in music (carefully avoiding overtly political bands) and live a very fulfilled life, just leave the greasy business of American politics behind and its attendant stress behind forever.
If it weren’t so goddamn important.
Right now I feel like there are extremists out there trying to make my country into something it isn’t by pretending that it used to be something it wasn’t. I feel like the response by the so-called centrists has been so timid and careful that absolutely nothing is being done. I feel like the leaders who I helped elect are utterly terrified to call bullshit on bullshit. I look from pigs to men, and men to pigs, and it’s harder and harder to convince myself that there is any difference.
I am not naive. I know that all your average citizen sees are the tiniest fraction of what is actually happening in our government. I am smart enough to know that I don’t have all the facts. But I am keenly aware of the trend that the weapons used to fight our current political battles – not the issues, mind you, but the tools used to wring support out of the American people – are getting uglier and more coarse. And I fear that these weapons set a standard and our national character follows.
You could almost despair . . . except for Occupy Wall Street.
Heroic Fanfare, Courageous Montage!
Real Americans
Full disclosure: I have barely participated in the Occupation. I did a little writing for a friend who is an organizer, and that was that. I haven’t stood for one minute with the Occupy folks. Have not been at risk, nor cold and uncomfortable, nor abused by the police, nor hectored by passers by.
There are lots of reasons why I didn’t participate directly in my local Occupy movement. I certainly don’t really have time to participate – I work between fifty and sixty hours a week, and I write, and I spend time with my family and friends. My life does not leave much time for occupying. But I could have found some time, I am certain, found some way to make it work If I had really wanted to.
But I didn’t directly participate because I went to an early organizing meeting and was thoroughly freaked out by some of the participants. I just didn’t have the energy to make myself go on one of my rare and precious days off and deal with some of the folks, and some of the situations I would surely find myself in.
Getting that off my chest feels good.
The meeting was in my town and I showed up energized and hopeful. Occupy Wall Street really captured my imagination. I saw that there were people who shared my concerns about the corporatization of our government and values, people who shared my passion for democracy.
There were also anarchists at the meeting. I try to take people’s beliefs in stride, but I classify anarchists with conspiracy theorists, religious fundamentalists, luddites, and objectivists: people to whom you owe a duty to never allow their vision of society to materialize. As I walked in the door one fiery fellow was shouting about burning down the banks. Was he serious? Certainly not fully, but he was certainly more serious than I was comfortable with.
I walked through the room just listening to the conversations of people. Folks were gleefully planning on being arrested, folks who were obviously there with a personal agenda that had little or nothing to do with politics. There were people there who seemed to me just wanted to be seen.
Now hear me: the majority of the people there were progressives, politically minded responsible citizens who wanted to stand up for a better America. That was by far the majority. But they never seemed to be the loudest ones, and that freaked me out. Just listening to the conversations exhausted me.
Long story short, I dipped first chance I got. My friends who got involved and stayed involved are my heroes; they were strong where I was weak, they sacrificed where I was selfish.
Also they are cooler, and more attractive to the opposite sex.
But I went to that meeting and the passion drained out of me. Occupy Wall Street – any major public protest – calls for passion, and when I didn’t feel that any longer I absented myself. I won’t do anything like that half-assed, its not fair to the people who are in it 100%.
So I just want to say thank you to the people who did stand out there, who did put themselves at risk, who stood and withstood. Thank you to those of you I agreed with, thank you to those of you whom I did not, thank you to those of you I feel are a danger to yourself and society. To everyone who participated: Thank you, thank you, thank you.
