I’d like to help change the world, but politics is no longer my hobby

By David McElroy · January 14, 2014

Why do people get involved in political campaigns and movements? Some do it because they’re trying to change things, either nationally or as it relates to some local issue they care about, but the biggest percentage of them are simply political junkies.

When I look back at the people I dealt with while I worked in politics for two decades, it’s really obvious that most of them were in politics for one simple reason. They loved the game. They might have paid lip service to the idea of making the world a better place — they might have even believed it — and they were definitely ideologues to one degree or another. But most were simply addicted to the thrill of being around the intrigue of the struggle for political power.

Most of us grew up being taught that “good citizens” are informed about news and involved with politics. If you’re one of those who’s attracted to power and is thrilled to be near those who have it, there’s no better excuse to indulge yourself. You’re just being a good citizen. You deserve a pat on the back as you name-drop about the people you’ve met. But it’s a game. It’s about the chase for power and ego gratification. You either become a political professional and get paid for or else it becomes a hobby for you.

Since I write and talk about political ideas, it confuses many people that I no longer care about politics. Many of those who generally agree with me about the sort of future I would like to see are confused that I don’t promote political advocacy and that I actively discourage people from participating.

Let me try one more time to explain why politics is no longer my hobby.

My reasons fall into two categories. First, I don’t believe in the possibility of making meaningful changes through the political process and I don’t believe in the morality of the system anyway. Second, I have better and more productive things to do with my time.

When I started working in politics, I told myself that I was doing it because I could make a difference. When I look back, I see absolutely nothing I did in 20 years that mattered. I did work for candidates running for offices ranging from city councils to governors. I helped make some politicians and their supporters happy, but I don’t see that anything I did made the slightest difference in reducing the power or size of government. Absolutely nothing.

I’ve discussed many times why I lost faith in the political process and how I slowly came to the conclusion that the entire idea of majoritarian rule was immoral. I didn’t want to conclude that, but I couldn’t come up with any moral justification for any random majority to have the power to give orders to everybody through their chosen candidates. (This interview with Ben Stone for the Bad Quaker podcast about a year ago covers some of my transition in that regard.)

If I don’t believe in the system and I don’t believe it’s actually possible to change anything politically, there’s no reason to be involved unless I’m being paid or I’m just a political junkie. I reached the point that I couldn’t ethically continue to do what I was doing, so I couldn’t keep doing it for money. And even though I had been following politics avidly since I was a small child who was too young to understand the ideological arguments, I was coming to realize that my time was better spent on my own future rather than playing the political game.

As I’ve said here repeatedly, I expect economic and social collapse at some point, whether that’s in two years or 50 years. The interesting questions to me revolve around what’s going to come next and how individuals can position themselves to take care of their families in that chaotic future. I don’t care who’s elected president in 2016 — or who’s elected to any other office — because I don’t think it makes any difference and because I think focusing on those trivial things distracts me from what’s important.

I had to come to these conclusions on my own. I read and heard other people who had concluded the same things years ago, but I stuck with politics until I was convinced for myself that it was a dead end and a waste of time. For that reason, I’m not upset with those who haven’t reached my conclusions yet. If you’re on a path that leads you to believe in individual liberty and reject the “social contract” that says others own you, I think where I am is the inevitable conclusion of that path. You might or might not ever agree with me on that, though

I don’t like to use labels to define what I believe, because they all come with baggage. Voluntaryist? Anarcho-capitalist? Libertarian? All have their strengths and weaknesses, I suppose. But the bottom line is that I feel so completely outside of the existing system that I don’t feel the need to define myself in relation to the “establishment.” I don’t see myself as rebelling against anything. I simply see myself as someone who’s looking realistically at the future and thinking about what to do in terms of that world — one in which today’s political system and labels are irrelevant.

Most of my friends are still heavily invested in the political system, for one reason or another. Among them are conservatives, progressives, libertarians, anarchists and socialists. Every one of you who claims one of those labels and chooses to be part of the system does so for his own reasons.

I have remarkably little interest in convincing you that I’m right. I have even less interest in arguing with you if you believe I’m wrong. I’m only interested in meeting like-minded people and sharing ideas about what we might do to get ready for a post-statist future. I have a lot of work I need to do in order to get ready. I don’t have time for many of the distractions that have wasted my time in the past. Politics is one of those useless distractions.

For those people who are still invested in the system, there are different motivations. For some, it’s a deep belief that they can change the system, despite all evidence to the contrary. For others, it’s simple inertia, because it’s always been “the right thing” to be politically involved. And for still others, politics is a hobby, because it’s fun and exciting.

I’ve been through all of those stages, but that’s not where I am today. I’m focusing on making money and building a future for myself — and my future family, for which it matters even more — taking into account the coming collapse as much as I can. Those are my urgent concerns. Partisan politics is an already distant thing that becomes more distant every day.

I encourage people to drop out of the system, but everyone has to do what seems right to him or her. For me, though, politics isn’t a hobby anymore. My life is much better as a result.

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I’ve never been attracted to skinny women. There’s nothing wrong with someone who’s naturally thin, but it’s never been my preference. What has shocked me, though, is the judgment I’ve heard from women all through my life — about themselves and others — about who’s “fat.” I concluded long ago that most women in our culture have been brainwashed to believe that skinny is attractive — and that anything other than skinny is ugly. I first assumed that I was the oddball — for preferring women with bigger and heavier bodies — but I’m coming to the conclusion that most men naturally feel this way to one extent or another. I just ran across new research by a couple of Northwestern University psychology professors that shows that women seriously overestimate how much a straight man will be attracted to a skinny woman. In a perfect world, we would all be at a healthy weight, but when it comes to attractiveness, too heavy is more attractive than skinny. At least to me — and to a lot of men, too.

Years ago, I heard a question that seemed very insightful at the time. You’ve probably heard it, too. What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? The question is intended to help you uncover things you really want to do, but which you’re afraid to try — for fear of failure. In an interview today, I heard the great marketing guru Seth Godin give a different point of view. He said the better question is to ask what you would do even if you knew it would fail. That struck me as far more insightful than the original version. We ought to be doing what we know is right, not what will maximize our success or praise from others. There are some battles that are worth fighting even if you believe you’re doomed to failure. Those battles are often for love or important ideas or our children. Some things are simply worth fighting for — and the truth is that you might win anyway. Do the right thing. Take the chance.

The more I understand about myself, about human nature and about the nature of reality, the more I realize I’m a radical by the standards of both Modernism and Postmodernism. Seeing the things which I’m stumbling toward makes me an enemy of many of the core ideas upon which contemporary culture is built. It exposes the culture as a monstrous lie — like a dangerous infection that’s slowly destroying what human were created to be. My “inner observer” has always known that truth was found in the ideas of the Enlightenment, but I’m slowly finding words to explain what has merely been instinct until now. The Enlightenment was humanity’s great leap forward, but shallow and arrogant thinkers for the next two centuries threw away the fruits of that achievement. We can’t go forward as a species until we go back to correct this intellectual and spiritual error — and part of that is acknowledging that our collective attempts to do away with our Creator will always fail.

I’ve come to believe that some of us — including me — aren’t very good at knowing how to be happy. I don’t mean that in the sense that happy talk and positive thinking should be able to make us happy regardless of the circumstances. I mean that some of us had so much experience with being unhappy when we were young that we were trained to be unhappy — and that being happy is an unconsciously uncomfortable thing. When I look at times in my past when I should have been happy, it rarely lasted. I believe now that I found reasons to be unhappy — and caused real problems for myself — because being comfortable and happy felt so foreign to my programming. If I’m right, this means that some of us have to do more than just change our circumstances. It means we have to learn how to accept the happiness that we unconsciously fear we don’t deserve.

After I wrote last night about being happy, I thought of an old song that mirrored what I was feeling. After listening to the entire album, I found it remarkable how well the emotions of that music match my own heart at this point in my life. Bob Bennett’s “Matters of the Heart” came out while I was in college. Even after all these years, it holds up really well, and you can listen to the entire album on YouTube. The specific song which matched my feelings last night was “Madness Dancing,” but I still find every song on the album to be strong with the exception of the eighth and ninth. (The song about his parents, called “1951,” is especially poignant.) In fact, the opening and closing songs paint a picture of my heart at its best now in these lines: “A light shining in this heart of darkness, A new beginning and a miracle, Day by day the integration of the concrete and the spiritual.” It’s old music that you’ve probably never heard, but it means a lot to me.

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