Respecting Apoliticism

“Oh no, I’m not brave enough for politics” - Obi-Wan Kenobi, Revenge of the Sith

At what point in our information age did national politics become something that dominated our time and energy? More importantly, does an obsession with the political realm drain our energies in such a way as to weaken human flourishing? As political science major, the rich irony appears as clearly to me as to you in advocating for a greater appreciation for apoliticalism. There’s so much outside pressure to feel a certain way about politics–the way you vote in America means so much. Voting signifies your personal stance on a handful of issues that will come to the forefront of the public interest during an election cycle––or more truthfully, the issues that politicians deem important. Yet, our voting patterns cannot begin to grapple with the “why?” When we make judgements about people’s voting without attempting to understand their motivations, we treat them as means––as an additive number towards achieving our desired political outcome. A person’s stance on single-payer healthcare or abortion may draw from poignant lived experience but when the political culture is such that hearing “Oh, they’re a liberal,” or “He’s just a Republican,” immediately predisposes us against their beliefs, it stunts the potential for interaction.
I don’t see many differences between people immersing themselves in federal political news and becoming informed on professional sports. For as many Instagram stories that you repost or petitions you sign on Change.org, your impact on federal politics is akin to that of wearing a LeBron jersey to a Lakers game and claiming, “I inspired the win tonight.” It’s true, we vote change into our federal government during presidential and midterm elections, but otherwise, I argue that any effort exerted does not seem to create a tangible change. Political scientists have long known that citizens can create the greatest political change that will actually impact their lives by becoming involved in local politics. Politics is, and always was, a domain that required actualized mobilization to create difference. Many millennials interact with the political realm, and claim, “I am a political person,” in the same way the chained prisoners in Plato’s famed cave would identify illusionary horses and houses along the cave’s wall. 
However, I won’t even advocate that people necessarily need to become active in local politics. If an issue arises that you disagree with, attend the necessary meetings and raise your concerns as an active member of that community. Your input as a citizen appears infinitely more valued on a county or city level than on a national level. However, my true purpose is not in advocating for being an active citizen. Politics, like all other vocations, is far too complex a realm to observe superficially. In my opinion, the information age was one of the most dangerous shifts for political discourse. Citizens continually consume highly condensed and superficial political information from news media. Allegedly, to be a good citizen, one must stay informed––yet, does my understanding of the American political leviathan come remotely close to that of actual politicians, of those people appointed to bureaucratic positions due to their years of higher education and preceding work experience in specialized fields? As clinical psychologist and well-known Canadian intellectual Jordan Peterson writes in 12 Rules for Life, “Ideologies are substitutes for true knowledge, and ideologues are always dangerous when they come to power, because a simple-minded I-know-it-all approach is no match for the complexity of existence.” It’s only with a profound arrogance can people disdainfully look at each other and think, “Your politics are morally wrong and you deserve judgement for holding them.” Or more importantly, that if someone either knowingly or unknowingly, decides to remove themselves from the political sphere in order to focus their energy elsewhere: let them.
Star Wars’ Obi-Wan Kenobi (played by Ewan McGregor in Episodes 1-3, and earlier by Alec Guinness in 4-6), a Jedi Master, loyal friend, and force for good, seems to exemplify the possibilities for an apolitical life. The Star Wars franchise, consisting of three trilogies, functions under compelling political conditions. The prequel trilogy observes the Galactic Republic (coined “the Republic” by fans) fall into authoritarian conditions at the hands of Sith Lord Darth Sidious. The descent from democracy to the formation of the Galactic Empire, (“the Empire”) headlines the prequel films. The original trilogy, films four through six, observe the galactic civil war that follows between the Rebel Alliance and the Empire. Throughout Master Kenobi’s arc, he rarely involves himself with the Galactic Senate, leaving that to his ally and friend Senator Padme Amidala (played by Natalie Portman). The quote introducing this essay represents the sentiments of Kenobi, that his best self would be inhibited by interacting with the political realm. More importantly, that there’s so much more to life than politics. 

I’m not advocating that all people become apolitical, for some people hold the predisposition to finding genuine meaning in activism and politics. Certainly, the political landscape inherits the sort of colossal challenge that one could dedicate the entirety of their life to and find unbelievably meaningful. It’s the same sentiment that underlies Dr. Peterson’s assessment that “It's in responsibility that most people find the meaning that sustains them through life. It's not in happiness. It's not in impulsive pleasure.” For those people who truly find meaning in politics, pursue it fully. Yet, it should not be a life requirement. If you choose to never learn the name of a single US Supreme Court justice and would rather invest yourself in training for a triathlon, do so––do what lights your proverbial fire.