“I Don’t Do Politics”

I am writing this in the midst of protests across my country. Citizens take to the streets to demand accountability, justice and are met with police batons and tear gas while some watch from home and choose to stay silent because such a situation is ‘too political’ for them to get into. It is this claim that has been on my mind these past few days.

The word ‘politics’ has become strangely narrow as we often forget that it goes beyond elections, Parliament sessions and party debates. Your very existence, the systems you live in, everything you consume is inherently political even if it may not seem so at first glance. The access you have, education, labour value, down to the food you consume is in some way and form shaped by politics. To say ‘I don’t do politics’ is to mistake politics for partisanship.

Of course, that is not to say that everyone who is silent is indifferent – perhaps, it arises from fear of social ostracisation, professional consequences, violence or lack of information. Silence can be an act of caution just as much as it may be an act of disengagement. But that is not the same as believing politics is something that can be opted out of. 

Being apolitical is a privilege no doubt but perhaps it is less about the absence of politics and more about the ability to imagine that it belongs in places beyond TV screens and government buildings. The thing to remember is that politics rarely announces itself as politics. It appears as a rise in the cost of fuel or groceries, a university syllabus, a delayed salary, the language spoken in public spaces, the right and freedom of dissent and protest. Politics structures ordinary life long after elections are over. 

The ability to declare oneself apolitical rests on the assumption that the status quo is comfortable enough to remain unquestioned. When institutions function in your favour, politics may feel optional. But for those whose very identities are constantly negotiated through policy and public discourse, policy is not a hobby or occasional interest. It is a condition of everyday life.

None of this means every individual is under obligation to post on social media or attend every protest, however, choosing not to participate is still a political choice. It changes the way we engage with politics and is a privilege in the sense that one can choose to do so. For someone whose identity is politicised, being apolitical is almost impossible. Politics is not something that only exists where and when we choose to engage with it. More often than not, it has already chosen us.

The real question, then, is not whether we are political but whether we can afford to believe that we are not. As I sit with this, the protests in my country rage on while some go about their daily lives. Contrary to what it may seem, neither exists outside politics. The difference lies in whether they are able to imagine that it does not. Perhaps being apolitical is not merely about the absence of politics but about the privilege of believing that politics is happening elsewhere, to someone else until one day it isn’t.