Goodbye Politics. This Time It’s Really Over

You never wanted solutions because you thrive on conflict

I know I’ve said it a dozen times before, but this time I really mean it. I’m leaving.

And it’s no good coming knocking at my door. You won’t get an answer.

Don’t try to stop me. This is it. Goodbye Politics.

“Democracy — the best of all possible systems to create the best of all possible worlds.” You sure had me fooled.

Everything started so well. We were going to change the world together. Feed the hungry, clothe the poor, heal the sick, fight injustice. Nothing was impossible.

We made a fine couple — my parents told us so. They’d always liked you, and said you’d be good for me. You’d give me a sense of direction.

I needed direction. You caught me on the rebound from my first true love, Religion. What a relationship that was! Deep, intense, mystical, our eyes fixed on the horizon and the promise of the life to come. We wanted change too, but our focus was on changing people’s beliefs, showing them that ours were Right and theirs were Wrong, a world in black or white. But when I argued there should be a place for gray too, our affair began to founder. “Forget logic”, said Religion. “Hold on to your faith.” Well, I couldn’t, and the break-up was painful. Especially when most of my friends sided with Religion.

But then you bounced into my life, Politics, and my world-view changed. Suddenly there was color everywhere. Red and blue predominantly, but with little flashes of green and yellow too. You taught me that each color came with its own set of ideas and beliefs, and you introduced me to some of your friends.

Like John F. Kennedy, representing the blues:

“Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country.”

And for the reds, Ronald Reagan:

“Protecting the rights of even the least individual among us is basically the only excuse the government has for even existing.”

“Let’s use the colors”, you said. “Let’s hear their ideas, debate them, reach consensus. Let’s select the colors we need judiciously, and then paint a picture of a better world.”

I believed you. Now we didn’t have to wait for heaven at the end of days. We could have it tomorrow.

You had a name for your method of color selection. You called it Democracy. You said it was the best of all possible systems to create the best of all possible worlds.

You sure had me fooled.

“OK boys, let’s have a clean fight. And may the lowest punch win!”

After all these years we’ve spent together, Politics, I look around me and see nothing’s changed for the better. In fact it’s worse. Much worse.

I see the hungry hungrier. The sick sicker. The victims persecuted. The wise ignored. The fools followed. The poor poorer. The rich richer.

I see riots in the streets. I see nations divided amongst themselves and from each other, like never before. The dogs of war are on the prowl.

Meantime you’re playing the situation. “Never let a crisis go to waste”, you say.

Your friends speak and now I see them in their true colors. Stripped of wisdom and compassion, their words are spiteful, divisive, self-serving. In the blue corner:

“If you have a problem figuring out whether you’re for me or Trump, then you ain’t black.”

And across the ring:

“When the looting starts, the shooting starts.”

So what happened to all the fine words and sentiments? Well, there’s an election coming — the time when we select our colors judiciously, remember? So you’re in the middle, Politics, calling the two contestants together:

“OK boys, let’s have a clean fight. And may the lowest punch win!”

Those hopes and dreams you fed me, those lessons in Democracy, those inspiring words — none of that was genuine. It was all just a marketing mask.

Sometimes I felt sorry for you, Politics. I’m no expert, but it seemed pretty obvious to me that you had the classic symptoms of a split personality — or as a shrink would call it these days, Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).

You’re hosting those blues and reds (never forgetting the greens and yellows) and they’re constantly fighting for dominance, one side taking control, then the other.

Dr Kristalyn Salters-Pedneault, associate professor of psychology at Eastern Connecticut State University, describes the DID symptoms:

A person with DID will experience the presence of two or more distinct identities or personalities, also known as alters. These personalities recurrently take control of the person’s behavior and they often experience a loss of memory of what happened while another personality or alter was in control.

Each alter has a distinct set of traits, personal history, and way of relating to the world.

So is DID the issue? Is that why we’ve made no progress fixing the world’s problems? As each color alter gains control, they forget what went before. Or worse, they fritter away their time in power, deliberately wiping out past progress because it doesn’t relate to their view of the world.

We talked about this last night, you and I, and you were adamant that nothing could change. “That’s Democracy”, you said. “And Democracy is mankind’s highest achievement.”

There was not a shred of remorse in your voice. You sidestepped your promises and my expectations. Fixing long-term problems? It’s not the priority right now. Let’s sort out the future when we’ve dealt with today.

You wheeled out your well-worn arguments. You had to stay relevant. People always needed reminding that Politics was important.

And then you said something repulsive. The protests and the riots gave you an opportunity, you said. All this would add spice to the election. People would start caring …

About what? About you? Is that all you really care about?

Finally I saw you for who you are.

Not a visionary, not a teacher, not a leader. Those hopes and dreams you fed me, those lessons in Democracy, those inspiring words — none of that was genuine. It was all just a marketing mask.

Behind the mask was a grubby, self-serving opportunist, peddling votes, no matter who they were for. You never wanted solutions because you thrive on conflict. Conflict consolidates your power, extends your influence, makes you and your smooth-talking friends wealthy.

Politics, it was only ever all about you. You never cared about anyone else, least of all me.

I thought it was love, but now I see that in your eyes I’m just another consumer.

So now it’s time for me to turn the tables and teach you a lesson of my own. Consumers have choices. I’m choosing the highway.

But you’re just one voice. How are you going to change anything?

You catch me at the door and put a hand on my shoulder.

– So how do you think you’re going to change the world without me?

I mumble something about my new poetry series, Black Lives Matter — “no politics, no drama, no commentary”.

You laugh.

– Poetry? “Poetry makes nothing happen”. That’s Auden writing, and he should know.

You’re right, of course. But why do you always have to humiliate me?

– Seriously, you’re just one voice. How are you going to change anything?

Enough! We’re not going through all that again. You’ve had your chance, Politics. I shake myself free from your grasp, turn, and step out through that door.

I walk away, angry, with your taunt ringing in my head. So you think I’m helpless without you, do you? Just a tiny voice? Well, others have seen through your mask too. I remember a recent exchange with Joe Luca, who wrote:

“If we see a mountain of small rocks and look at the task of moving it, it seems overwhelming. If each of us took and moved one of them, in short order, the mountain will have been shifted.”

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see the stone in my path till I kicked it and it skipped away down the road ahead of me. I followed it, then picked it up. It was unremarkable, just a stone kind of stone.

But my brain was buzzing.

To see how I’m trying to shift a rock— a social care solution that breaks free of political shackles — you might like to check out my website The Care Combine.

And here’s a poem that makes nothing happen.