This presidential election has transformed the apathetic teenager into an informed voter. We discussed the candidates' personas, basic policy proposals and, most importantly, the actual geographical proximity between Alaska and Russia. Furthermore, our engagement exceeded mere curiosity -- many of us volunteered to distribute posters, stickers and water bottles to the student body, eager to promote our candidate of choice. On election day, my floormates -- usually late for drill -- actually awoke on time to vote at Hanover High. As an international student, I felt awed by the sheer vigor and engagement that is American democracy. But I also felt overwhelmed by such passion and wondered: Does apathy have a role to play in tempering passion?
When Obama appeared on stage to deliver his victory speech, his reticence conveyed a lack of emotion seemingly uncharacteristic of someone who had just surmounted blue and black barriers to assume what is still the most powerful position in the world. Joe Biden, in contrast, was full of smiles -- he was clearly relishing his sweet victory. This contrast accentuated Obama's profound worry for his newfound responsibility. His apathy -- his relative lack of visible enthusiasm, that is -- empowered him with the clarity of mind and perspective to focus not on the presidency, but on presidential issues.
Apathy towards things in general allows us to care for particular things. After all, how can we direct our emotions and reason meaningfully towards any one thing if we care for everything?
Being apathetic towards everything else enhances our passion for something in particular. Rarely do people campaign passionately for multiple causes; rarely do charitable foundations focus on more than one or two key issues. Obama, the embodiment of cool rationality, knows this well enough. He is just a president, not a messiah. He can consider -- but cannot care for -- every American's unique problems. As such, his role is not to yield to everyone's needs perfectly but to build a consensus that accommodates most. Compromise requires a coolheaded, even apathetic, approach.
But most importantly, apathy allows us to be sane, as its absence is an indiscriminate sentimentality towards everything. In Alexander Pope's words, we would ultimately "die of a rose in aromatic pain." Indeed, apathy helps us moderate the pain of helplessness we feel towards harsh realities. Ignoring something psychologically absolves us of a moral obligation we instinctively know we have. Unfortunately, our human sensibilities simply cannot deal with the proportionate amount of sadness we would feel without apathy, what Wordsworth calls "unfeeling armor."
But we should not be totally apathetic towards everything either. All-encompassing apathy would lead us to existential depression, since everything then becomes devoid of meaning. We should be selectively apathetic -- in particular towards things we cannot have reasonable control over.
Apathy, like any other emotion, has a pernicious extreme. This is typically personified in war-weary soldiers. Their nerves, wrecked by the horrors of death and destruction, render them callous and completely indifferent to suffering. Having served in military medicine myself, I evaded permanent desensitization to death by simply willing myself to be apathetic; I perceieved myself as a utilitarian vehicle of medicine rather than a humanist lifesaver. At work, humans were patients and pains were symptoms. At home, humans were friends again and pains were causes for concern. My apathy allowed me to be professional at work while preserving my latent emotional sensitivity.
As always, the Greeks knew best. Apathy, which originates from the Greek word apatheia (a-pathos), means "freedom from suffering." This was central to the stoic conception of life in which meditative reason restrained one's emotions in the face of any negative emotion -- in particular, arrogance, frustration and sadness. It liberated one from the shackles of emotion to function professionally and to pursue happiness. Today, the political change that awaits us demands our passionate engagement -- and its concomitant problems. So let's not forget to be apathetic, too.
