Small acts, not protests, are what will change U.S. apathy

People are losing their jobs. Unborn children are being murdered. The weather’s been awful… People are losing their jobs. Unborn children are being murdered. The weather’s been awful lately.

Let’s have ourselves a protest.

A yearly protest irons more sin from the liberal soul than weekly churchgoing ever could. It’s absolution we seek, not results. One clever sign waived in the face of someone trying to get to work can do wonders. It can even transmute Lexus payments from indicators of soulnessness to signs of maturity.

The ’60s’ protests left a legacy so great that just nodding and listening to someone suggest a protest made me feel OK, even if I were too busy to attend.

I’ve been saying some perceptive and dangerous things since I switched from a dutiful fascist to a condescendingly sympathetic anarchist in 10th grade. While I’ve swapped -isms with some especially nifty modifiers a good bit since, I’ve never quite made it to a protest. I’ve always been more inclined towards civil disobedience anyway, but the only forms of disobedience anyone told me about all involved marijuana, alcohol or some form of digitized media, so I decided to figure out a new way to be disobedient.

Until winter break, I’d been trying to visualize a force more powerful than the combined might of the Super Bowl, Internet Explorer and Fossil (with its courageously gnarly watches); I’d failed. I couldn’t really imagine any tangible power greater than that, and I certainly didn’t see any deed of mine, no matter how disobedient, contributing to this alternative force.

Then, I heard about the tsunami. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe this had actually happened. Not in a world with TiVo.

I can’t comprehend the emotional state of the survivors. The tragedy they’ve experienced is beyond my ability to empathize with. While I doubt I’d have the strength of will required to recover and prosper after such a calamity, surely I can manage to find way to strike Wal-Mart’s heel.

The modern American sins of apathy, homogeny, superficiality and faux intellectualism that I’ve been whining about for years all stem from a logical and conditioned preference for comfort. Comfort is a luxury few in the world can afford, and it’s certainly not available when you’ve got to keep an eye out for massive reptiles swimming where your home used to be.

That preference is the real enemy facing American society because it obscures the obvious solution to so many protesters’ complaints. Whether you’re waiving a sign to shrink government or bumper-stickering your neighbor’s car with a scorching statistic, the answer to returning power to the American people is the same. Take it. Take back the power you’ve given up to bureaucracies and corporations and charities and churches and even teachers.

Remove the layers between your good intentions and their manifestations. Hand someone a lunch instead of writing a check. Stop picking on people for getting abortions, and discuss sex and parenthood with family with friends. Discuss. Don’t lecture, and don’t just sit through classes, scribble on tests, take that diploma and buy a nice house. Register for a class dealing with an issue that’s always made you uncomfortable.

It’s not only through violent demonstrations and mass boycotts that important changes can happen. No jail time need be served to alter another’s life. The most difficult and vital activities are daily, frequently boring and seemingly without impact. Profound changes can occur when small amounts of personal comfort are traded for simple gestures. The effort required to tape the “O.C.” instead of watching it as it airs is monumental. Add to the momentum of change.

Perhaps our combined efforts can build a monument to what the United States might still become — a nation that doesn’t need to raise humanitarian aid as a hopeful shield against future terrorist attacks.

Burn the puppets with Zak Sharif at rzs8@pitt.edu.