How do we find a means to exist in a world where apathy is an addiction? 

Where our passion is fueled by the shallow, and where we bicker to block out the noise of the echo of depth? Why does our need to be correct about the unimportant enhance our need to prove such concepts as important? Do we create a false problem, because it is easier to wield our swords on the vulnerable than our wit against our demons?

Yes. 

We live in a world today where hate floods the comment cesspools we spend our time floating in, and politics play like a football game, our screaming faces caked in eyeblack and party’s colors. 

How did our politics become the dominating feature in our ability to interact? We feel, now, that our party alignment represents a set of values, ones we hold onto passionately, intimately. That is important. Our beliefs are essential.

But they are essential to progress discussion, to build a world we can be proud of. We forget, if we burn down this world’s inhabitants, cathedrals of thought are rubble. And words, however precious, mean nothing if no one listens. If we don’t listen. We forget, if we burn down the forest, not even the trees will bear witness. 

We forget, more significantly, that we can be wrong.

Politics have become a moral issue, and have left us incapacitated willingness to hear another side. We feel burned out, isolated, stomped upon, and burning with indignation, with little hope of return.

But hey, at least we all have that in common.

A bit bleak, no?

Let’s get into that.

At this point in our political atmosphere in the United States, our defenses are detonable, and triggered easily. To be heard, we often feel we must be attracted to polar opposite views, and completely inlined with one side.

To hold a moderate position is to be in the center of the earth, under unsustainable pressure and heat. Therefore, many of us align ourselves with a party, or side, and defend, with little consideration for other opinions.

We all do it, at one point or another. Even when we feel we are being more open-minded.

When asked about the level of comfort they might experience when discussing politics with those whom they disagree with, all interviewees expressed that while they felt they would be open to listen and hear others, the other person would not be receptive.

From where is this phenomenon derived, then?

Those interviewed were not participating in active hypocrisy, nor were they wishing to show contempt for others. Rather, they were demonstrating the self-preservation we all utilize, and creating a defense mechanism. We fear for the judgement of others, so we close ourselves off from the possibility of a conversation.

Cynicism, particularly, has increased immensely over these past few years. Our perception of human kindness has deteriorated. 

“Having different political views doesn’t mean being enemies. There’s a reason this country is titled the UNITED States of America” Keron Bowman (11) says of the polarity in the US.

It can feel almost cathartic to lament about the state of our world. To place the responsibility for change in another’s hands, to be freed from the burden of revolution, by simply not possessing the mindset of another. By not existing in a state, we feel we contribute.

This mindset is cancerous, however. When we project a country’s failure on a sole outlet, we metastasize a generation, one of extremes and noise that may as well be silence. 

We grow to fear what we will not open ourselves to learn.

When we allow ourselves to be consumed by this fear of rejection of others, or of variance, we also block the possibility for our perception to change. Most hate is developed not by active passion, but by incremental passive distance. 

However, if we identify this fear to be the large root, the fundament, the issue, we can progress with that humanity in find, and purge ourselves of this needless animosity. Our likelihood to hate someone can vanish when we identify their humanity. To look someone in the eyes, and have had a conversation, is to purge any lack of realism.

We rid ourselves of the veil of dissonance, and have to face a dilemma. How do we hate what we ourselves are subject to? Our fear unites us, and so, with conversations such as these, can love.

Sophia Sikes (11), believes in this humanity. “You should never feel unworthy because of your beliefs and I believe a true friendship shouldn’t end over opposing political views” she says.

The innate intimacy of truly listening to another side opens us to wounds, it enhances vulnerability. But that vulnerability is the only hope for pushing past any capacity for apathy, and when confronted, I think we can find that most of us can connect.

Hate does not need a monopoly on our agency. Fear doesn’t make the sun rise. By simply talking with someone different than you, you excavate the ubiquity of humanity. Similarities birthed in the most fundamental sense. 

Evidently, this all can seem idealistic. A utopia beyond our reach. However, the capacity of empathy within each of us is just as great as that of fear.

Look around.

The evidence for hope grows in equal proportion to an impending doom. We can grow, and we do come together. Our potential for knowledge equivalent to our propensity for ignorance. 

Birth and death, light and shadow. Mutually assured resurrection. 

I have this hope for humanity. And by recognizing that light within others, you take another step into paving that world. A world of kaleidoscopic tapestry, composed of our variance, and sewn with the hem of confluence. New wool onto an old quilt will not tare this tapestry, and our ability to adapt is both real, and absolutely essential. 

Our empathy can combat our hate. It is the sole solution, and the most powerful weapon humanity has in its arsenal. 

May we hope and progress together.