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2020 was the year I distanced myself from politics. This was not a dramatic change (I had been drifting away, so to speak, for a few years), but it was an important one, for me at least. I finally stopped checking Twitter, and I only got on Facebook once every few days. Throughout the entire year, politics and the news (which is almost entirely politics these days) were distant, blurry images to me, clouded out by more prescient and distinct visions of quality time with family, with the outdoors, and with good books.
That’s not to say that I removed myself from the political going-ons of the world entirely. I still read ‘the news,’ but instead of receiving instant notification from the simmering cesspit of hot-takes that is the social network, I turned to older, more moderated mediums of media-consumption, such as daily newsletters and monthly magazines and journals. If you ever want to know what’s going on in the world without feeling irrationally angry about everything, I highly recommend subscribing to a respectable, daily newsletter (The Dispatch is mine of choice).
Putting that self-postulating about political distance aside for a moment, I think it has become clearer and clearer over the past few years that too many Americans are far too obsessed with politics and the government. For all that people say about Washington unnecessarily involving itself in our everyday lives, we sure do a good job of making them a part of our daily routine whether they want to be or not. This has been a gravely unhealthy addiction for the American people.
This doesn’t mean the people are entirely to blame. Of course, this addiction and overconsumption is partly their fault, but appropriate blame can be levied against the media (especially social media), opportunistic politicians, and, frankly, a culture of outrage that pierces deeply into our society. The division of blame amongst these groups is too complicated and too mathematical a problem for me to address. I do think, however, a solution to this problem of too much political concern rests with the American people. Allow me to explain.
In his 1862 lecture “Walking,” Henry David Thoreau called (somewhat jokingly) for the formation of what he labeled The Society for the Diffusion of Useful Ignorance. Thoreau argued that there were positive kinds of ignorance, and that knowledge can sometimes “rob us of the advantage of. . . ignorance.” I am not a philosopher, and I do not understand Thoreau, but I think part of the solution to America’s political addiction can be found in Thoreau’s mock society, a parody of sorts, that I’ll call the Society of Unconcerned Citizens. The gist being: sometimes we’re better off not knowing nuthin’ about politics. More specifically, willfully not knowing about politics. If individuals expressed a relative unconcern regarding most of what’s labeled “politics” nowadays, I think much of our outrage and division would dissipate. That’s not an argument for ignoring everything that happens in the world. But it is an argument for paying less attention and turning our focus to things more important.
So, I call upon the dear reader to consider joining this Society of Unconcerned Citizens. Treat national politics, national crises, and contemporary world events as less important than the rest of the society currently does. Instead, focus on the simple, on what’s near to you, and on neighborliness. There are more important things in life than arguing about politics or cultural issues on Facebook. Advocate your principles in the way that you live your life and how you interact with those dear to you and near to you. To borrow from Eric Weiner’s The Socrates Express, let us practice “a thoroughly conscious ignorance” and exhibit a deliberately unconcerned attitude towards politics. Our souls, and that of our nation, would be all the better for it.
Will Randolph is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2022. He is studying political science and Spanish at the University of Louisville.