Apathy is a Luxury America Can’t Afford
When enough people choose to remain stagnant, evil is left to fester
Annika Prickett
On November 6th, I, and other Americans, awoke to the news that Donald Trump would be the 47th president of the United States. I was in denial. The tally wasn’t done yet—there had to have been a mistake, right? I felt the same funny feeling I had when the pandemic was announced. While half of my school was exuberant at the prospect of having extra weeks of spring break, I knew what was coming. I know what’s coming this time too. We’re stuck in-between, the transition period. We can’t quite see the storm taking shape, but we can feel it.
It’s difficult to remain politically engaged in a world that feels as though it’s constantly spiraling, and being young in the age of the internet feels like a blessing and a curse. How far does my empathy run me in the attention economy? On the one hand, all the information in the world is right there at our fingertips. On the other, it’s an endless flood of crises, tragedies, and echo chambers to fall into. Another headline. Another outrage. Another moment to feel powerless. But if I’m being honest, when I found out Trump had won again, I didn’t feel helpless—I felt angry. I’m angry because hatred and division are cornerstones of his platform. He bullies immigrants, LGBTQ+ individuals, and women to provide a scapegoat to the side of America that is hurting because the economy is uncertain and these are scary times in the world. And it’s always easier to sell people on a lie when it confirms their biases to begin with. His rhetoric isn’t just divisive, it tears at the fabric of this nation. We are a nation of people founded on fighting for freedom from tyranny—not just the freedom to do as we please. His leadership undermines that ideal categorically.
On November 13th, Elon Musk tweeted, “You are the media now!” Despite the hypocrisy of his statement, something struck a chord with me. He’s right. For the next four years, it will be increasingly difficult for progressive policy to make strides on Capitol Hill, but that doesn’t mean we should become paralyzed by despair about what could become of us. Our responsibility now is to protect the people we care about and fight in the ways we can. There’s a time to take on the big battles, and there’s a time to focus on survival. I desperately wish this was the time for sweeping change, but for that to be a reality, the politicians would have to listen. So instead we fight for those around us.
Here are a few pieces of advice from Timothy D. Snyder’s On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century that I find particularly salient as we traverse through (unfortunately) precedented times:
Do not obey in advance. This is the first lesson On Tyranny imparts to its readers. Do not sanitize yourself to the version you think they might find you most palatable. Do not distill your authenticity in the hopes that it will curry favor– conformity is just another form of subjugation.
Establish a private life. In an increasingly surveilled world, it is paramount that we learn how what we put out into the world may be used against us. Have interactions in person. Try your best to stay off the internet, if for not subverting tyrannical governments, simply for your mental health. Instead of reaching for your phone and social media, occupy your commute with a good book.
Make eye contact and small talk. Small interactions matter. Love it or loathe it, small talk is what builds rapport amongst each other. Oftentimes we are enamored with the idea of community, though the steps we take to truly foster it are minimal. We are not meant to go through this life alone. Flash a smile next time you see a friendly face.
Practice corporeal politics. Politics impacts us on a cellular level. Stress has the power to shrink our chromosomes. Power wants you brain-rotting after a long day of classes. Reconnect with nature. Your body needs movement and craves to connect with your mind. Bask in the winter sun. Grimace at the wind piercing through your layers. It’s better to feel something, rather than nothing at all.
The act of enduring is a laborious and at times painful process, but we will persist. Protect your loved ones so that they may see a tomorrow that is even slightly better than today. Pass on your wisdom to your communities and take care of each other. Because sometimes, survival is resistance. And right now, that resistance might be what matters most.