There are a few kinds of people I respect:
1. People who are brilliant at what they do.
2. People who are brave enough to starve for their art or what they believe in.
Umm…okay at the moment, there are two kinds.
I had a heated argument with my dad again today. What else but politics and ideological differences? In short, he supports the ruling party, I don’t. I don’t claim to know politics and might even lean towards the apathetic but what I know, I don’t like. Anyway, to explain my introduction, my dad told me his friend is nearly 60 and spends his time running errands for the opposition. “What for?” my dad says. But I respect his friend. With what little he has left of life, he is trying to make a difference.
My stand in politics is very simple. I don’t know enough but I know despotism. I am not saying anything. But my position is always with the minority. I don’t dispute the capability of our ruling party except that I feel they have a part to play in our apathy. They have led us well through a time when our people were perhaps ill-equipped to think for themselves but times are changing. What good is education if it isn’t put to use? What good is it, locked away behind the bars of ignorance, sloth and selfishness?
I can’t say I support the opposition either. Not because I am afraid to step forward but because I don’t have that kind of passion in their manifesto (yet?).
Today, I sat through a Worker’s Party youth forum. (Frankly, the argument started because my dad cringed when I told him where I was.) Some of it may have fell short of my expectations, but it was insightful nonetheless. Apparently, unwed mothers are being cheated of their rightful privileges like third month maternity leave, baby bonus and so on. Why do we not question things like that? Apathy. And ignorance. I didn’t even know of these policies. I’m ashamed. But then again, isn’t AWARE supposed to fight for stuff like that?
I wish I felt the burning passion to fight for policy changes. Wish I believed in something so fiercely I would snatch up the picket signs and shout my voice hoarse. And then cry for the victory. Is there a cure for apathy?