Generation Apathy
Life and times at the apex of indifference.
“Oh well, man. The whole world has gone to shit anyways.”
That was one of the very first reactions I heard upon the result of the 2024 presidential election.
You’re probably thinking this came from someone who didn’t vote or is relatively passive when it comes to politics.
But actually, it came from someone who is a supporter of Donald Trump and has voted for him the past three elections.
Surprised? Well, I was too.
Admittedly, this response has been on my mind throughout the last few days, along with another line of thought I’ve seen commonly throughout social media: “Why is everyone being so dramatic about this? He isn’t going to be THAT bad. He wasn’t THAT bad the first time.”
And more so than any election result I’ve witnessed in my life, those comments have been what’s filled me a certain kind of dread I’ve honestly never felt before.
Let me just say — if you think this article is going to be an attempted takedown of Trump, you’re sadly mistaken. I have no interest in arguing with walls. The majority of this country decisively made its decision in a fair and free election, and their choice was him. I’ve accepted that and you should too.
This is who we are right now.
However, what I cannot accept is how much we as a culture no longer truly care about each other anymore. And in truth, we’ve been this way for a long time.
Sure, we have our sports fandoms. Our political parities. Our core beliefs. Our friends. Our close loved ones. Our religions. Our favorite bands. Our opinions on if a hot dog really is a sandwich. Is the dress black and blue or gold and white? Etc.
We all deeply care about the things that make us, well, us.
But I’ve never been more convinced that as a general populous, we absolutely, positively could care less about someone who might believe, identify, love, look or feel in a way different from the common social norms we grew up with.
If anything, it’s nothing but pure resentment for those vulnerable individuals. After all, a man was just elected who ran attack ads on trans people for an entire election cycle, was found libel for sexual abuse and rape in a court of law, regularly attacked DEI initiatives, and so on and so forth.
And to be frank, white christians (the group who voted the most for Trump) didn’t care about any of that. Instead, what they cared about was the price of eggs at the grocery store. After all, that was something that directly affected them.
Maybe it’s just my experience, but that doesn’t exactly scream the teachings of Christ. I won’t pretend to be holier than thou even while being a proud Christian, but I do remember Jesus making it a point to embrace sinners and everyone from all walks of life instead of turning them away for the false possibility of cheaper gas prices.
Religious and political debates aside — I firmly believe this election was only a symptom of the disease currently plaguing us, and more pointedly young millennials and members of Generation X.
And the disease’s name is apathy, otherwise known as a lack of interest.
It may still be the never-ending shock of living in a post 9/11 world, but we all know the routine that follows a national tragedy: shock, disgust, posts on social media about thoughts and prayers, fancy political discourse from both parties, superficial PSAs are made, and then nothing happens or changes.
Nothing. Zip. Nada.
The cycle repeats as we move from disaster to disaster, tragedy to tragedy and we see the same general thought eventually put out by religious leaders trying to hide their obvious political leanings: “We live in a fallen, dark world. All we can do is pray to God for guidance and safety.”
Remind you of anything? “Oh well, man. The whole world has gone to shit anyways.”
And yet, climate change persists. Political leaders continue to wrongfully be the victims of assassination attempts. Sensible police reform that puts both the general public and our protectors of peace out of harms way are ignored. Common sense gun and immigration laws are political footballs always being fumbled for the sake of political interest group funding.
But ask yourself, how many times have you seen a social media post following Tuesday’s election result in that very same vein of my apathetic friend?
“Regardless of who is in office, Jesus is King!” “It’s all in the hands of Jesus now.” “Jesus would wash the feet of BOTH Trump and Kamala.”
Don't misunderstand me, I agree with all those sentiments. But if you’re still reading this, you know very well those posts are the most those individuals will ever do to make the very changes they wish to see in our world.
Let us not forget James 2:26 — “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”
Just look at my home state of Kentucky. It’s a blood-red, Trump stronghold which voted as such. However, Kentuckians spent MONTHS fighting against an amendment which would’ve allowed tax dollars to go to private schools, thus weakening public schools. All 120 counties voted overwhelmingly against it and saved a core identity of the state.
Quite literally — Kentuckians voted against their own self interest once anyone takes a few seconds researching Trump’s views on education. (That amendment was made directly to appease his wishes, which were made public on Monday as he’ll dismantle the department of education and push public funding to private, religious schools that will teach what he wants them to teach)
And it’s not that they weren’t totally aware of this contradiction — Kentuckians. Just. Didn’t. Care.
All that mattered was their team winning and their own identity politics succeeding, no matter the cognitive dissonance in play to do so. The truth was in their indifference.
It’s no surprise when you consider how we’ve made general political disinterest an attractive attribute for one to have. In truth, some of the best people you probably know routinely said some form of this over and over again since Trump first came to power: “Politics just aren’t for me.” “I’d rather vote for none of the above.” “I don’t support him, but I definitely can’t vote for a liberal.” “Being very political is so lame and uncool. That gives me the ick.”
Apathy personified. I used to wonder why the phrase, “It is what it is” has become so popular. I no longer do.
How many times since COVID-19 struck have you avoided or steered away completely from a politically-charged conversation with a family member? How many times did you unknowingly spread a fake conspiracy online just because it benefitted your party? How often did you let a loved one or friend pass off an obvious lie about a politician just because you didn’t want to get into a political argument?
And finally, how often have you thought to yourself, “It just isn’t worth it. I need to let that slide and not have it ruin everyone’s night. Politics are just a wash anyways. I’m not gonna change their mind, so it’s a waste of time.”
Well. How do you feel now?
In truth, I’m self-aware enough to know how self-righteous this rambling seems, but that’s where I’ve led you astray on purpose — I wrote this in part to myself.
I’ve allowed myself to become apathetic. I wanted to seem apolitical in personal interactions. I let conspiracies fly around online from people I know on Facebook. I let a friend say out loud the sexiest lie that “Kamala Harris slept her way to the top” without any pushback. Over a decade ago in high school, a teacher allowed my entire class to watch a YouTube video on how the Sandy Hook shooting didn’t actually happen. I stood by and said nothing.
All in the name of “good manners” and not wanting to make a scene.
I’m part of the very problem I’m writing about. My hands aren’t clean. I’ve not exercised my masculinity in a positive way. I’ve been weak.
This finally brings me to the present. Obviously, this election went a way I didn’t agree with. If you’ve made it this far, that was easy to tell.
I shut down emotionally in the aftermath. From my closest friends. From coworkers. And from family members.
I eventually brought myself to think, “That’s it. I’m staying away from politics forever. This is what people want, so be it. They can enjoy this upcoming disaster. They deserve it. I’m not going to care anymore.”
I wanted to become that very definition of apathy I always hated because that’s the easy choice.
Empathy takes effort. Being the change you want to see in a world that disagrees with you is a brutal endeavor, one in which you will most likely die before witnessing.
But if you’d allow me to nerd-out and reference the very popular monologue from the great Star Wars TV series Andor here:
“I yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost, and by the time I looked down there was no longer any ground beneath my feet. What is my sacrifice? I'm condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else's future. I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I'll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude. So what do I sacrifice? Everything!”
Including myself, we’ve reached the apex of apathy because we’re afraid to make sacrifices. We’re afraid to disappoint our loved ones. We’re so unbelievably terrified someone might immediately think lesser of us because of an opinion we may have. And finally…we’re scared of failure.
I’ve seen way too many devastated liberals who are mostly silent on such matters cry out since Tuesday, “How did we get this to this point? I never knew this country was this racist! Do we need to move to another country???”
Spare me your shock and disgust when the real answer is obvious — as a whole, the Right wanted it more.
Republicans started organizing as far back as 2019 by making up a fake uproar around wokism and critical race theory in schools, flooded podcast and YouTube streams with sexist male voices appealing to the worst sensibilities of young men, and got the world’s most pathetic billionaire to take over the largest social media site and flood it with conspiracies and nonstop hateful rhetoric to vulnerable groups.
And what did Democrats do? Let a compromised candidate stay in office too long before only giving his replacement 15 weeks to convince a country to vote for her.
The writing was on the wall for years, but in the true spirit of apathy, we didn’t care.
So, for me, the buck stops here.
I recognize my own privilege as a straight, white, Christian male makes it so easy for me to get off the mat.
So, if you’re different from me and are having a hard time processing, well, everything that’s happening — that’s more than okay. Take the necessary time to recover, and please, be kind to yourself. If it takes you a long time before you’re ready to fight again, do what’s necessary.
But make no mistake — I hope you pick yourself up and are ready to battle against apathy. The scourge of Christian Nationalism in this country is spreading at a non-stop rate, and it will only continue to do so unless you have something to say about it.
Yes, I don’t have a tangible answer on how to move forward besides the generic “We must keep pushing forward because there’s still good out there,” but I believe that’s true.
Honestly, I struggled finding a way to end this as I don’t believe blind hope is helpful nor needed. So, I’m not going to give that to you. Things are about to get much, much worse before they get better, and you need to be ready for that.
You may not actually find peace. You may have further rights taken away from you. And you might suffer greatly mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.
But if these really are the cards we’ve been dealt, I do have just one ask of you — go down swinging.
Live in defiance. Resist apathy. Choose empathy. Make sure you’re remembered.
Because maybe, just maybe, someone down the line in the decades that follow will bask in the sunrise you helped create.
And that’s good enough for now.