Picture this: You’re at a dinner party, and someone drops the phrase, “I’m not political,” with the same casual air they might use to announce they don’t like cilantro. It’s a statement thrown around more liberally than confetti at a Greek wedding. But what does it really mean to be “not political,” and is it even possible?
The origins of “not being political”
The concept of being “apolitical” isn’t new. In ancient Greece, the birthplace of democracy, those who didn’t participate in public affairs were called “idiotes” – yes, that’s where we get the word “idiot” from. Suddenly, ignoring that town hall debate doesn’t seem so innocent, does it?
Initially, claiming to be “not political”, or to be an “idiote” if you will, might have meant you were above the fray, focused on loftier pursuits like philosophy or art. It was a way of saying, “I’m too busy contemplating the meaning of life and art to worry about who’s in charge of the olive groves, or as we might say today, who’s in charge of the supermarket shelves.”
The evolution of the phrase
Fast forward to modern times, and “I’m not political” has become a chameleon of a phrase, changing colors to suit its environment. In some circles, it’s a defense mechanism, a way to avoid conflict among a group of friends, or on first dates. In others, it’s a humble brag, implying a level of enlightenment above the petty squabbles of everyday politics.
But as society has become more interconnected and information readily available at the tip of your fingers, the ability to truly be “not political” has become about as realistic as claiming you’re “not affected by gravity.”
The privilege of apoliticism
Here’s where things get sticky. For many folks around the globe, being “not political” is about as optional as breathing. When your daily life is a political minefield, you can’t just opt out. Think about it: indigenous peoples fighting for their lands, LGBTQ+ people seeking basic rights, minorities facing systemic discrimination. For them, politics isn’t some abstract concept to debate over coffee – it’s a survival tool.
Think about war and genocide. When your neighborhood, your whole country is a battlefield, suddenly every decision, from where to sleep to whether to flee, becomes a political act. Just like that it’s about life and death.
The luxury of being “apolitical” often comes from a comfy spot in society’s pecking order. It’s not just about having a fat wallet, mind you. It’s a whole mishmash of factors – where you’re born, what passport you hold, whether you’ve ever heard a bomb go off outside your window, and whether your ancestors were the ones dropping those bombs or running from them. Colonialism – you know, that whole “plant a flag, claim it’s yours” business that shaped half the world – has a long shadow that stretches far, touching everything from the language you speak to the borders you call home.
The rise of populism and its connection
Enter populism, the political equivalent of that miracle diet that promises to solve all your problems overnight. It’s the loud voice shouting, “Us regular folks versus those fancy-pants elites!” At its core, populism is like a magician’s trick – it takes real issues, waves its wand of oversimplification, and tada!
Complex problems suddenly have simple solutions. Who doesn’t want to believe that all our troubles are caused by some shadowy “them” and that there’s an easy fix? But here’s the kicker: like that miracle diet, populism often leaves you feeling worse off and wondering why you fell for it in the first place. It’s not all smoke and mirrors, though – populism taps into real frustrations. It’s just that instead of offering a balanced meal, it serves up a sugary treat of “us vs. them” that leaves you craving more at the detriment of your health.
The rise of populism has made the “I’m not political” stance even more complicated. By presenting politics as a simple us-vs-them, populism has made it easier for people to feel engaged without delving into the complexities of policy. Suddenly, being “political” doesn’t require understanding immigration policy; it just means deciding whether you’re okay with tear-gassing kids at the border. Talk about your light dinner conversation.
The “wokeism” factor
And then there’s “wokeism” – a term that’s been tossed around more than a salad at a health food convention. Originally meaning to be alert to racial or social discrimination and injustice, it’s now used as everything from a rallying cry to a dismissive insult. The emergence of “wokeism” has further blurred the lines of what it means to be “political,” making claiming to be “not political” even more of a minefield. Here’s the deal: being aware of social injustices and calling them out? That’s not just good, it’s necessary. Sure, some folks might roll their eyes and mutter about political correctness gone mad, but you know what? Sometimes being the “annoying” one at dinner means you’re the only one with the guts to point say no to bad apples. The term “woke” might have become a bit of a political football, but the core idea – being conscious of societal issues and actively working to address them – that’s something worth standing up for, even if it ruffles a few feathers at the street barbecue.
The importance of being political
So, why should we care about being political? And just to get it out of the way: it’s not just about voting. Being political means being engaged with the world around you, understanding how decisions are made, and recognizing your role in shaping society and how society shapes you.
It doesn’t mean you need to run for office or spend your weekends canvassing (unless that’s your thing of course). Being political can be as simple as staying informed, having conversations, and making choices that align with your values.
Think of it this way: politics is like the weather. You might not be interested in it, but it’s going to affect you anyway. Wouldn’t you rather have an umbrella ready than be caught in a downpour?
Being political in everyday life
Now, don’t panic – being “political” doesn’t mean you need to start handing out flyers or chaining yourself to trees. It’s more about keeping your eyes and ears open in your day-to-day life. Next time you’re grabbing a pint with your mates, and someone mentions the new housing development, don’t just nod along. Ask questions. Share what you’ve heard. Maybe your buddy from the football team has a different take because his nan lives near the site.
Next time you’re grabbing a coffee and overhear someone grumbling about “those immigrants,” don’t just roll your eyes and sip your latte. Pipe up with something like, “Yeah, it’s terrible. They come here, make our coffee, probably save lives as nurses, and even teach our kids. The audacity!” Then give a knowing wink to your barista, who’s likely heard it all before. Boom. You’ve just turned a gripe session into a chance to challenge some assumptions, and maybe even made an ally in the process. That’s being political without even spilling your coffee.
I prefer to engage, not preach. I am not trying to win converts; I am just being a curious, aware human, connecting the dots between the personal and the political, one chat at a time.
In a world where everything from the food we eat to the air we breathe is influenced by political decisions, claiming to be “not political” is about as realistic as claiming to be “not affected by oxygen.” It’s not about picking a side in a never-ending argument; it’s about recognizing that we’re all part of a larger system and have a role to play in shaping it. Even choosing not to choose is a choice.
Being political means being aware, and sometimes, being the person at the pub who can explain why the price of cheese has gone up without putting everyone to sleep.
In the end, the question isn’t “Are you political?” but rather, “How will you engage with the world around you?” Because whether you like it or not, the world is certainly engaging with you. And who knows? You might learn something new, change your mind, or even inspire someone else to take a closer look at the world around them. No soapbox required.