Saturday, July 09, 2005
Worn Out
I remember some time ago riding in the back seat, listening to the two women up front discussing social activism while on our way out to the Lummi Indian Reservation one evening to attend a panel discussion on racism, environmentalism, and treaty rights. The driver, a Catholic minister, I knew from her work with refugees fleeing Central American death squads while Reagan was President. The other gal I didn't know, having never crossed paths until that evening. But I recall wondering just what it was she did when she remarked, "I'm so tired of activism--it's wearing me out."
And I thought perhaps she was referring to some kind of underground railway for illegals seeking asylum, or maybe conducting research, or perhaps organizing volunteers or resources to carry on this type of humanitarian venture. But I was wrong; as it turned out, what she was referring to was attending meetings and vigils and protests and marches that--if you live someplace like the Bay Area and some college towns--can literally consume all your spare time. If you let it.
So as I drove down the main road through town this morning, I noticed the sidewalks were filled for a couple of miles with women in pink Avon t-shirts and ball caps with advertising promoting breast cancer research. More do-gooders, I thought. But, pretty much a harmless if fruitless activity. At least their hearts are in the right place.
Then I thought about all the other largely fruitless corporate-sponsored feel-good activities that substitute for more effective political engagement--consuming what little energy people have left after a week in the workplace--and I had this sense that the total effect of moral theatrics, self-organized or otherwise, logically leads to apathy and cynicism. You march and walk and sign petitions and give money to causes and nothing changes--except for the worse.
I mean, generating awareness is one thing, but then turning around and believing one's knowledge or faith or intense feelings or industrial paternalism will set you free is such a sad thing to witness, that if it wasn't for the visual lesson inherent, I might have been perturbed. As the Black Panthers used to say, you can't lose your chains until you free your mind.
Peace.
And I thought perhaps she was referring to some kind of underground railway for illegals seeking asylum, or maybe conducting research, or perhaps organizing volunteers or resources to carry on this type of humanitarian venture. But I was wrong; as it turned out, what she was referring to was attending meetings and vigils and protests and marches that--if you live someplace like the Bay Area and some college towns--can literally consume all your spare time. If you let it.
So as I drove down the main road through town this morning, I noticed the sidewalks were filled for a couple of miles with women in pink Avon t-shirts and ball caps with advertising promoting breast cancer research. More do-gooders, I thought. But, pretty much a harmless if fruitless activity. At least their hearts are in the right place.
Then I thought about all the other largely fruitless corporate-sponsored feel-good activities that substitute for more effective political engagement--consuming what little energy people have left after a week in the workplace--and I had this sense that the total effect of moral theatrics, self-organized or otherwise, logically leads to apathy and cynicism. You march and walk and sign petitions and give money to causes and nothing changes--except for the worse.
I mean, generating awareness is one thing, but then turning around and believing one's knowledge or faith or intense feelings or industrial paternalism will set you free is such a sad thing to witness, that if it wasn't for the visual lesson inherent, I might have been perturbed. As the Black Panthers used to say, you can't lose your chains until you free your mind.
Peace.
