1623 days into a war that need not have been fought, I’m nauseated by the passivity and obliviousness: the shopping, the driving, the stultifying banality. I’m not above it: as I sit here typing in air conditioned comfort, people are dying.
I’m tired of polls, of elections, of invertebrate "leaders," of vacillation, of surrender.
Living in the U.S. bestows unparalleled privilege and immense responsibility. Though George Bush would have it, we are not yet a dictatorship; to the extent we can influence government action, tolerance for its criminality reflects on us. What does 60, 70, 80% "opposition" to the war even mean if it doesn’t interrupt normality? Our inaction fully warrants the world’s harshest judgment and contempt.
Opposition is RESISTANCE. Friction. Sand clogging vile gears.
NOT bumper stickers and biannual voting.
We enshrine pieces of paper that purport our sovereignty, but, unexercised, they are little more than atrophied husks. An insipid, thoroughly domesticated vision of democracy prevails: we shouldn't be reduced to choosing among politicians' competing "plans", politicians should come to us to ascertain our views—we are the proper leaders, they are our representatives.
Democracy is content.
All the moaning and groaning at ineffectual "leadership" amounts to disingenuous hand wringing, for their spinelessness merely mirrors our own. Don’t give me tired excuses that "marches don’t work," or that "the media marginalizes us."
No fucking shit, Sherlock.
Systems of power cannot be expected to facilitate their own subversion. It’s equally fatuous to suppose weekend demonstrations twice a year would make a dent. Power is always there, with massive resources and intelligence at its disposal; to achieve our goals, we need to dramatically raise the costs of noncompliance with popular will. That entails sacrifice of the sort few, thus far, have been willing to make.
We are not absolved of guilt by the difficulty of the challenge. If anything, its urgency is reinforced, for this war cannot go on any longer.