It’s an election year – one that was literally impossible not to notice. All voters, no matter if they were the first-time voter or the grandpa whose first vote was for Harry Truman, felt the same: This was not a typical election.
And perhaps for the first time, politicians were not lying when they said, “This is the most important election of our lifetime.” Today, this rampaging hurricane is over – until the pundits start bloviating about 2020 while the next president is walking down Pennsylvania Avenue.
We would be remiss if we did not reflect on this black swan of an election before it is lost into the black hole that is our daily lives.
So let me ask you this: When was the last time you were able to focus, uninterrupted, on an item before the world’s feed demanded your attention?
When was the last time you were on Bruin Walk and actually read a flyer? When was the last time you went online to get informed about an issue and made it directly to that site?
I guarantee you that if you did go online, the chances of you actually reaching a site without distractions are close to nil. We are at the mercy of baiting clicks.
If you were disappointed with the two realistic choices on this election – Gary “What is Aleppo?” Johnson and Jill Stein were not really on the menu – do not be quick to blame it on the gullible, the media’s need for rating or the cynicism of the electorate’s lost hope in the process.
In other words: How did someone like Donald Trump get this close to becoming the leader of the free world? And whose fault is it?
No, don’t blame them. Blame yourself.
If you are wired to social media religiously – and seriously, who isn’t these days – and broadcast your life through text, videos, snaps, GIFs, memes, etc., you are part of the problem.
For all the benefits of the connectivity of social networks, we have replaced the remoteness of contact with the cacophony of deafening noise. So much of it overwhelms our senses and makes it almost impossible to separate the inane from the important.
In the words of author Orhan Pamuk, “Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.”
And so far, we haven’t listened. The wild menagerie has numbed us all the way to unflappable apathy.
Now don’t get me wrong: I love technology and social networks. Like any student finishing up college, I am in the process of looking for a job. If it wasn’t for Facebook groups with job openings, advice, encouragement, and guidance through the process, I would not have known about those opportunities. But for each good social media gathering, there are countless virtual tribes that are hardening the discourse, corroding the body politic and overall, making us dumber. When was the last time you caught yourself not knowing what is trending? When was the last time you looked into the weeds of an issue that mattered to you, your loved ones and your community?
This election was a reflection of how far down we have gone in the pursuit of “self.” While this event was not technology’s fault, it has put us in the midst of an arms race to find the “dopest” video, the coolest snap, the chillest outfit, the highest number of followers, the most hearts left on our Instagram picture.
Because of our myopic attitude, we woke up one day shocked and faced with two choices: boring and flammable.
So in future elections, when you go the booth or feel ready to stamp out your ballot, think about your role in the country’s state of affairs – and of the rising apathy you witnessed in 2016.
Our interconnectedness has made us aware of issues, but only at a superficial level.
We are miles wide, inches deep.
If we are not vigilant in realizing we are willingly subjecting ourselves to a smoke screen, we will wake up tomorrow to an unrecognizable world of our own making.
Dial back the constant snapping, the mindless browsing, the aimless posting and the needy Instagramming. You will experience a withdrawal for sure – I know I have – but over time you will get better. You will realize, oddly enough, how much of your life you get to have by cutting the live streaming.
Take pride in not trending. We want change as fiercely as we want privacy – and yet, we take both for granted, at our own peril. This attitude has cost us dearly. It’s up to us whether it costs us our future.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.