By Jin-yeong Yi
“The theory that the universe is run by a single God must be abandoned, and that in place of it we must set up the theory that it is actually run by a board of gods, all of equal puissance and authority. Once this concept is grasped all the difficulties that have vexed theologians vanish. Human experience instantly lights up the whole dark scene. We observe in everyday life what happens when authority is divided, and great decisions are reached by consultation and compromise. We know that the effects, at times, particularly when one of the consultants runs away with the others, are very good, but we also know that they are usually extremely bad. Such a mixture of good and bad is on display in the cosmos. It presents a series of brilliant successes in the midst of an infinity of bungling failures.”
—H. L. Mencken
“Liberty of the people is not my liberty!”
—Max Stirner, The Ego and Its Own
Arthur Schopenhauer, whose pessimistic writings arguably rival the Book of Ecclesiastes, deliberately paid little attention to politics. As he put it, he minded “not the times, but the eternities.” While I sympathize with this way of thinking, I tend not to ignore politics for the same reason that I don’t ignore the rat race. I recognize that these things affect me directly, and that if I want myself and the people around me to at least be comfortable in the prison in which we exist, I’d do well to devote a reasonable amount of time and energy to them. This is simply one of those “necessities” that come with the “real world,” or what I prefer to call the “lowest common denominator world.” Each of us is a God or Goddess of our own world, but we’re forced to exist in a common world where no one is truly in control (though just about everyone fights for control). In this common world, politics is one of the mechanisms by which the conditions of our common prison can be improved or worsened.
So I do my part, as infinitesimally trivial as that may be, reasoning that doing something is better than doing nothing. I vote, and I advocate any ideas and policies that appear to be the best bet for creating an optimum balance of individual freedom and collective stability, as well as an environment in which the arts and science can flourish. Whether my politics can be called liberal or conservative or libertarian–or a mixture of these–is not terribly important to me. Whatever I may be out of practicality, I am fundamentally an individualist anarchist in spirit–for me, true freedom would not come through politics but from being relieved from the necessity of bothering with politics in the first place.