Hard pill to swallow

As we exit another election season, the American people are coming down from a constant state of political panic, myself included. It feels almost impossible to ignore the gravity of voting this year: what it means to have the right, and how to use it well. At the same time, perhaps I speak for a lot of us when I say that this is also a discouraging time. Our world is facing a number of crises. As a result, an evident disengagement and hopelessness appear prominent. Every time I turn on my TV, I am bombarded with images of Palestinian children lying in heaps of rubble, of Ukrainian women carrying their orphaned children, and of Lebanese towns blown to nothing. At home, my peers and I can barely afford gas or groceries, and issues on abortion, education, and immigration, continue to foster hateful division. 

When people talk about the election, I find it’s usually because of this frustration about domestic and global affairs. We all want a solution, and we look expectantly to our new president. But, of course, these politicians cannot heal what is broken in our nation, and the world.  The truth is, we are misguided in believing what either of them says about caring for the American people. In reality, Kamala Harris and Donald Trump do not care about you. 

While this is a sad thought (though it shouldn’t be surprising), we still have some agency in how we respond. Perhaps the solution exists in us, and not in power-hungry authorities. We are a country of many broken systems (as most countries are), but we are also a broken people. Yes, our politicians are often immoral, but we, as a people, do not succeed in compensating. 

Even in my own life, I have noticed this discrepancy. In my political rants to friends, there is a certain inconsistency in the politics I preach. I want a president who cares about the lives of immigrants, who cares for women when they have an unplanned pregnancy, and who cares about the people of our cities who cannot afford food. While I should want to have a president who adheres to these values, it is very likely that they won’t– what then? Do I give up until the next election comes around? 

When it comes down to it, I see in myself a failure to do good. I don’t even make meals for my friends, let alone the hungry in Philadelphia. I don’t volunteer or support any women who are struggling with decisions about an unplanned pregnancy, even though I live in an area where this is not uncommon. I say that I care about my friends living in Ukraine, but I don’t even pray for them as often as I should, let alone support them in more material, tangible ways. I don’t do these things, but if I care so much about these issues at the ballot box, then maybe I should. 

It is much easier to care about politics than it is to care about people. Perhaps this problem, inherent in who we are as a people, has to change before we look to a new administration. We as a people can still help the poor, or the hungry, if we care a little more about human kindness and less about political schisms and party lines. How would our country change, if we all saw that it is our responsibility to love our neighbor, and not some far removed task allotted to politicians who only care about winning elections? At the end of another election, do we actually care about loving our neighbor, or do we also only care about winning? 

The point I want to make is that loving others is a responsibility we all have, no matter who our president is. In fact, the outcome of this election does not change the lack of compassion and love that seems to be prominent in our country. And though Harris and Trump are hateful towards one another at every opportunity, they reflect a populace that behaves the same way towards opposing neighbors and friends. 

I am not advocating that we settle for anarchy- voting is a privilege, and participation in political life is not something we should take for granted. And when you vote next, think about your neighbor. However, a central part of our brokenness is our apathy, and that does not come from any politician, or political idea, no matter how controversial. All this sadness, and all this loss in our world, and yet we respond with so much more hate than when we began. I wonder how things might change if we decided that each of us, in whatever ways we are able, are just as responsible as the president to do the good we preach.