I would like to address a question that someone asked me a few weeks ago about the futility of working with the anti-war movement. The conversation that I had with this person synthesized the arguments of many that I have come across this year, people who seem to disagree not with my stance on the war in Iraq, but with the fact that I act on my beliefs. This column is not about the war; it is about responsibility. It is about life.
I became an activist when I was seven years old.
Early one Saturday morning, I was sitting on the faded brown carpet of our apartment’s living room, and my cartoons were interrupted by a commercial from Save the Children; I saw children my own age living in mud and filth, impoverished, starving, hopeless. They had sticks for arms and legs, and bloated bellies. I saw a reflection of myself in each huge, wet, unblinking eye. I cried for people whom I would never know.
This is not meant to sound sentimental or melodramatic. I cried because at that moment I understood that I had food, clothing and shelter, and that other people, just as deserving, did not, and perhaps never would. I did not know why exactly, but I could feel the injustice, the terrifying absurdity: at that moment the world lost its luster.
Think about that — a billion people live on one dollar or less per day. Three billion more live on two dollars per day, according to the World Bank. Poverty is the number one killer in the world. Billions do not have access to medicine, nutritious foods, or even clean drinking water. And these are not secrets — we have all seen the commercials and heard the statistics. Why aren’t we rioting in the streets, disgusted by the inaction of our government, demanding change? Why are we not a more empathic people? Damn.
I’ve been disillusioned for thirteen years now, but I feel that disillusionment does not have to be a bad thing. After all, what is disillusionment if not simply the absence of illusion? Maybe that’s why activists tend to be angry, driven people. They see through the bullshit. They see that everything is not okay. And they see, above all else, that somebody needs to do something. The activist understands that positive change must come through action, and that any movement is only as strong as the people who believe in it and sustain it through their hard work.
Being an activist on a college campus is a sobering experience. On one hand, one is exposed to many others who share the same values and are willing to fight for something worthwhile; on the other hand, one is also exposed to those major segments of the population who think that racism died with slavery, or that poor people just don’t work hard enough, or that war is only a natural part of civilization, or that the world is simply too big and complex for anyone to make a difference.
And there are also, to be sure, those who simply don’t care.
Those people are rolling their eyes right now, thinking that the caricature of “the activist” that they substitute for me is out of touch with “the real world,” that we cannot and should not change the natural order of things, and that we live in the best of all possible worlds. Whether apathetic, content in their ignorance, or simply selfish, they merit no further discussion.
Another group of people are those who understand that something needs to be done, but do not feel that it is possible to change things. They see rallies and teach-ins as pointless because those in power ignore them. To them, I say this: the normal people who took part in the labor movement, the Civil Rights Movement, and yes, the anti-war movements of the past prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that popular movements can indeed change policy.
Finally, there are those who want to get involved, but are inhibited by time constraints. School, work, art, social life, etc., all of these things are important and should not be neglected, but remember this: as college students, we are elites. We have opportunities and freedoms that most people do not have. Education should extend beyond the classroom; and being an activist can teach you more about people and about the world than any class can.
Take advantage of your place in society. Years from now, people won’t remember what kind of grades you got or how much you drank last weekend. Think about the big picture. What will you tell your children about your college years?
What a preachy article I’ve written. If you are offended by it, good. I happen to be offended by the fact that we spend $399 billion on our military, while, according to Unicef, $80 billion could meet the basic needs of every human being on Earth. I’m offended by the fact that hunger has killed three times as many people as war has in the past 50 years. And, most of all, I’m offended by the fact that we have the tools and the resources to solve all of these problems, yet we do nothing.
And maybe your getting involved with some social justice group won’t make things better, but how can you be sure? Think about it while you enjoy the summer. Wake up. Here’s to disillusionment.
Kyle Myhre ([email protected]) is a sophomore majoring in English, and is a member of Stop the War and the International Socialist Organization.