I read an opinion piece last week that started with the following paragraph:
Yet again tens of thousands prepare to descend on major metropolitan areas to march in circles through empty streets. We will exercise our legs and our lungs and our egos and then go home again. Nothing will change and nobody will be surprised at that. As usual, exorbitant expenditures of time and money will add up to exactly zero. Meanwhile, people and animals and ecosystems in Iraq and elsewhere will continue to pay the price for our failures of courage and imagination.
This caught my attention because I burned out long ago on marching in the streets, trying to come up with clever chants, trying to get people to be loud, getting too cold or too hot, and wondering, at the end of the day, if anyone cared that hundreds or thousands or hundreds of thousands of people had been marching. The media certainly didn't. I began to feel like going to protests was required to retain my lefty credentials, but I wasn't sure if it was the most effective use of my time. Am I just lazy? Getting old? Burned out? Maybe. Or maybe not.
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