Why I Care

“Gut feel” was the answer. The question, in a nutshell, was “Why did you vote for Obama?” It was a conversation I had with someone who is very dear to me. As we talked about her general disinterest in the campaign or any of the political issues, I had a flashback to my earlier self. I remembered how apolitical and oblivious I was when I myself was in my early twenties.

At that time, I simply didn’t understand politics. A candidate could say a few nice-sounding things and I would shrug my shoulders and say, “That sounds good enough to me!” and pull the lever in that person’s favor. Everything seemed so esoteric to me. Without comprehending the consequences of policies, it was impossible to have any passion about the issues. Instead, I bumped along in the world thinking about things like dating, finding a good job and hanging out with friends.

In 1989 I graduated from college and was getting settled into my first ‘real’ job. While I focused on upgrading from a studio apartment to a one-bedroom apartment, areas of central Europe were upgrading from Communism to democracy. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the Velvet Revolution taking place in Czechoslovakia would have a dramatic impact on my life.

Much changed for me in the following year and by early 1991 I had moved to Czechoslovakia. Although the Communist government had collapsed a year prior, remnants of the system remained. A shift so monumental takes time. When I had first arrived, no privatization had yet taken place. The totalitarian evils of Communism morphed into a softer socialism, and the country’s goal was to privatize the state-owned businesses and embrace the principles of a free market system. Over the course of the next two years, I was fortunate enough to witness the conversion as the country progressed from Communism to democracy and from socialism to free-enterprise.

By being immersed in this historical transformation, I finally felt the significance of politics. Through the stories shared by my Czech friends, and my own experiences during the two years I lived there, I learned about Communism, socialism, democracy, totalitarianism, liberty and oppression in a way that was tangible. For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of the duty we have as Americans to preserve freedom. I began to understand the consequences of policies. I met remarkable people who, with determination and yearning, fought for opportunities I had taken for granted. Finally, politics had been brought to life. By witnessing the oppressive realities of socialism and its degradation of optimism, I realized how invaluable free enterprise and a non-intrusive government are. My understanding became visceral, rather than academic.

By the time I left, Czechoslovakia had divided into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, Yugoslavia was war-torn, and Clinton had been elected President. The spark ignited by my central European experiences has been intensified over the years, to the point where I feel very passionate about certain issues. I now believe political oblivion and ignorance, which I was guilty of, is dangerous. Choosing to pay attention to pop culture instead of politics has its appeal – it’s an escape, it’s easy, it’s a form of relaxation, and it’s something that typically won’t cause heated debates among friends. But ignoring politics is perilous. An uninformed public is a vulnerable public. The more ill-equipped we are in understanding the issues, the more power we are placing into the hands of others. As we walk away from the tough issues, we risk falling into a pit of subjugation.

To many Americans, “a pit of subjugation” seems like hyperbole. This is only because we’ve been graced with such good fortune in the last several decades. It’s hard for people my age and younger to fathom what World War II, and its total estimated loss of human life of 72 million people, must have been like. The Great Depression is only something we learned about in school. Even the energy crisis, high interest rates, and double-digit inflation of the 1970s are not things many of us personally experienced, at least not as adults. Without such times of trouble, it’s easy to slip into a false sense of security and to dance around singing la-la-la.

Half a world away, however, times of trouble were easy to identify. Back in 1991 and 1992, I noticed a remarkable interest in political affairs among my Czech friends and acquaintances, including the younger generation. Having been oppressed, they treasured self-determination and they understood how fragile freedom is. They had suffered in a pit of subjugation to which they had no desire to return. Hence, they recognized that an informed electorate is obligatory if freedom is to be maintained.

It’s easy to believe one person’s attempts at making a difference are futile. After all, the government is a behemoth and those who hold the reigns of the monster seem unstoppable. However, this lack of confidence in ourselves is what those in power are counting on. As long as we believe there is nothing we can do to influence their decisions and behaviors, they will continue to prance around unchecked. The Velvet Revolution began with a peaceful student demonstration in Prague. Prior to the demonstration, there had to be conversations among small groups of like-minded individuals, and prior to these conversations, there had to be simply individuals. These individuals thought about what was important to them and decided to take action. Each person took a risk and ventured into the very dangerous world of discourse. Every-day people spread their thoughts and influenced opinions about there being a better way. This, IN SPITE OF the grave danger such actions posed. Nonetheless, they persevered.

If each citizen in Czechoslovakia had believed any attempt at improving the government was futile, there would have been no Velvet Revolution. It simply is not true that individuals can’t make a difference. Rather, individual action is the only way change can occur. If a nation can overthrow dictatorial rule, we can certainly achieve less monumental tasks such as halting poor legislation.

Just as the students in Prague rallied around Vaclav Havel, we can rally around Bobby Jindal, Newt Gingrich, Jim DeMint and the many others who are fighting the fight for smaller government and free enterprise. Just as students spoke among themselves and spread the word about freedom, we can share the wisdom of conservative principles as we talk with friends and neighbors. Unlike those under the Communist thumb, we will not be jailed for our political activities. (However, the harassment of Joe the Plumber does provide cause for concern.) Unlike the Czechs in 1989, we have endless means of communication and sources of information. All we have to do is tune in and speak up. Doesn’t that seem like a small price to pay? I would much rather have such infringement on my time today than lose autonomy, freedom and optimism tomorrow.