The Perils of Political Indifference

A few weeks ago, I was running by Lady Bird Lake in Austin when I had a bizarre social interaction.

It was a fine day. The sun warmed my skin and a breeze cleared the sweat off my face as I ran. I was a few miles into the workout and feeling euphoric when I saw two chubby guys and a girl appear around a corner of the boardwalk. They caught my attention right away, as they were wearing matching yellow uniforms. When I got closer I saw they were holding signs that read, "Vote Socialist 2024."

My adrenaline was pumping, so I shouted "capitalism is superior to communism," as I ran past them with a smirk.

I could not hear what they said back. I then said, "Marx said to abolish private property, so give up yours." At this point, I was backpedaling on the boardwalk, like a free safety dropping back into coverage, so they could hear me. I then heard one of the chubby guys say "I will once..." but I was too far away to hear him.

This odd exchange fired me up. My pace surged, and I felt like Rocky Balboa sprinting through the streets of Philadelphia.

As I looped back around the boardwalk, I saw the three socialist musketeers again and couldn’t help laughing. Presumably, they were not happy to see this intense, shirtless guy, ready to challenge them again. As I ran towards them I kept at it, saying "What do you have to say about Lenin? About Stalin? About Mao?" One of the guys responded, "I love Mao," with a nasal voice that I found rather sickening. Reflexively, I called him a disgrace and continued my run.

I later regretted having said something so harsh. But I couldn't shake the conviction that saying you “love” Mao Zedong—responsible for an incomprehensible amount of human suffering—is, in fact, disgraceful. Saying that reflects a shocking absence of morality, or, I suppose more likely, profound ignorance of history.

History has always fascinated me. Therefore, politics also fascinates me. As a result of this natural interest in studying history and politics, I've developed strong opinions. But I did not always express these opinions. I’ve had eras in my life of avoiding politics completely because of its toxic, confusing, and exhausting nature.

When I was younger, for example, I heard the word “politics” and immediately associated it with some bozo on Fox News spewing nonsense or some hysteric whining on Twitter. Those people seem miserable. I don't want to be like them, so I won't pay attention to politics.

But I now understand that forming and expressing political opinions is an inescapable part of a good life, assuming the source of a good life is wisdom.

If you are someone pursuing wisdom—which if you read this blog I bet you are—ignoring politics means ignoring one of the five fundamental pillars of philosophy, which also includes aesthetics, ethics, logic, and metaphysics. Saying you are pursuing wisdom, then, but not paying attention to politics is like saying you love basketball but refuse to dribble.

Remember Plato's famous warning that political apathy leads to your inferiors governing you? This is a principle that applies not only to actual political leaders but any institution or community. Without political awareness, you risk being dominated and lectured by tyrants and extremists from any side of the spectrum.

In other words, while it is obviously foolish to have opinions on political matters you know little about, it’s equally misguided to claim complete political indifference. It is better to be engaged within reason. Engagement doesn't mean being a news junkie or indulging in emotional tribalism. Rather, it’s about understanding and articulating some fundamental values and ideas that are political in nature.

So I say to you, consider the issues and don't shy away from important conversations. Know that being thoughtful about politics is a crucial part of being a responsible human. Certain political stances reflect core values that impact your relationships—whether with friends, associates, or a potential partner. Being indifferent signals a certain level of irresponsibility.

But in hindsight, I do wonder—was what I did on the boardwalk that day really responsible? You might say no. You might say that what I did was unhinged, and you may be right. But what would have happened if I had just run past them without saying anything? For me, nothing. But for the three socialist musketeers, who knows? Perhaps now they'll reflect on our absurd exchange and read more history, and start developing better ideas. After all, when I FaceTimed a friend to tell him the story, we both agreed—I saved their lives.