Each day, I reluctantly but inevitably log into my social media accounts to post essays, share important news articles, and generally check out the overall vibe of the country. More often than not, what I see online dovetails with my day-to-day social experiences with the public. The conversations, topics, and ways in which people discuss political, social, and cultural issues are always similar to what’s trending online. 

For instance, I’ve discussed Israel with non-politicized Americans more in the past three months than I have over the past two decades. That’s not a coincidence, and it’s, unfortunately, not the result of organizing efforts. In other words, it’s not as if the people I’m having these discussions with have attended antiwar rallies or Palestinian solidarity events. They simply consume information via YouTube, Facebook, X, Instagram, and TikTok. 

Fortunately, an increasing number of commentators on both sides of the political spectrum, and everywhere in between, are beginning to understand the fundamentally destructive (for both nations) relationship between the U.S. and Israel. That’s a good thing, no doubt. For the first time in 25 years, or since Gallup has been polling the issue, Americans sympathize more with the Palestinians than with the Israelis. Quite the development when you think about it. 

And yet, Gaza has been destroyed, and the Israelis are carrying out an ongoing genocide. Palestinians are starving. Hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children are sleeping in makeshift tents that are prone to flooding during rainstorms. And the situation doesn’t look like it will improve anytime soon. The Israelis continue to act with impunity, which is only possible with the explicit political and military support provided by the U.S. Our tax dollars are paying for this insanity. 

But what are we doing about it? Don’t get me wrong, I’m guilty as charged. I haven’t organized any events over the past several years, nor have I initiated any allies, outreach campaigns, or canvassing efforts. I haven’t even made a phone call on behalf of a political campaign, electoral or otherwise. I’ve only attended rallies and shown up to the polls. After almost 20 years of activism and community organizing, I needed a break. It was needed and productive, but enough is enough. 

Anyway, let me get back on track. What are we doing? What could we do? And what would it take? Those are the sort of questions I ask myself when it comes to political issues. Israel is ethnically cleansing portions of Palestine and Lebanon with U.S. political, economic, and military support. Currently, we’re not doing much about it. There are, to be fair, Palestinian solidarity groups, student organizations, and unions that are applying pressure in their own ways. But their efforts are isolated. 

If we could engage even a fraction of the tens of millions of Americans who sympathize with the Palestinians, we would have millions of Americans involved. At the same time, this would require Americans to prioritize the issue of Palestine at a time when the economy, housing, healthcare, immigration, and threats to democratic institutions take priority in the minds of most people. And even concerning those issues, the vast majority of Americans remain politically disengaged. 

Elections, on the one hand, allow for a discussion of virtually every issue. That’s one of the reasons why they resonate with people, whereas it’s very difficult to explain the utility of building social movements. Elections produce clear winners and losers. Votes are cast and tallied. It’s a statistical process, from the precinct, municipal, county, and state boundaries to the final vote count: graphs, pie charts, and illustrated maps explain the process, rules, and results. Elections are quantifiable. 

Here, it’s tempting for people to only engage with electoral politics because they can feel that they’re addressing all of their concerns and issues. Of course, this is not the case in the real world, where politicians get bogged down with crises, often self-inflicted, or buried in the minutiae of legislative procedures. Most of the time, we’re lucky if the very best of the best politicians can make significant progress on one specific issue, let alone multiple issues. The system simply doesn’t allow it.

Many social movement activists and theorists would argue that we shouldn’t address one issue at a time, but develop and organize around a vision and framework that challenges the system itself. For me, that’s a tempting approach, but often unarticulated in detail. What does it actually look like to challenge the system? People often answer with a tactic. “A general strike!” Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question of what sort of mechanisms and organizations we’re replacing the system with.

Sometimes, addressing a singular issue is the only viable approach. For instance, a multinational corporate technology company seeks to build a data center in your community. You decide to organize with your neighbors, coworkers, and friends and fight back. While it’s true that engaging in such a campaign allows for educational opportunities, including an examination of power structures, local political networks, and the economic system, there remains one goal: to stop the data center. 

Let’s assume the data center fight is successful. You stop it. Then what? Hopefully, people leave such campaigns having built organizations and organizational capacity, expanded their political social networks, and learned valuable skills. Ideally, that single-issue campaign morphs into other campaigns and projects. At least that should be the goal. Plus, we should always leave a campaign stronger than when we entered it. That’s the true test of any campaign’s effectiveness. 

These are the sort of questions and issues that matter. These are the sort of things we have the power to control. We can’t dictate what Trump says or does tomorrow. We can’t change what Bush or Obama did in the past. We can’t command Congress, and we can’t direct the Supreme Court. We cannot control the media or multinational corporations. All we can do is control the things we can control. And in the political world, that means whether we decide to act or not act. 

It’s really that simple. The only thing that matters is what we do, not what we say, or what we write, or what we think, or how we feel. None of that matters in the political world. Oh, you’re upset and sad about what Israel is doing in Gaza? Your emotions have no bearing on the situation. Netanyahu couldn’t care less about your feelings. Oh, you’ve expressed your displeasure on Facebook? The government couldn’t give a shit less. Doing so has no bearing on the decisions of those in power. 

The only thing that matters is whether or not we decide to fight. Participating in civic life, social movements, workplace organizing, campus organizing, and expanding political horizons is all that matters in the political world. No one cares about your half-baked theories unless they’re directly connected to existing political projects and efforts. No one cares about your moral superiority. Virtue won’t save the children of Gaza. Only committed political organizing and mobilizing will. 

What Trump posted on X, Truth Social, or said to the media today doesn’t matter. What we do to stop Trump from further degrading our country does. The construction of a ballroom or featuring a mixed martial arts fight at the White House doesn’t matter. What we do to stop Trump’s ICE policies does. Posting memes and expressing our anger online doesn’t matter. Mobilizing the many millions of people who agree that we can do better as a country, or who remain on the fence, does.  

As the old saying goes, money walks, and bullshit talks. In the end, we have the power and ability to understand our collective predicament and respond accordingly. Human beings created the institutions, laws, technology, and economic systems that dictate and dominate our lives. And that means human beings can reconstruct, dismantle, and create new forms of government, economic relations, and cultural norms. There is no natural law that exists dictating otherwise. 

In this increasingly frantic and disorienting digital landscape, we must always remember our priorities. Human beings, animals, and ecosystems matter. Computers and robots do not. Our families, friends, neighbors, coworkers, and romantic partners matter. Unknown, faceless, digital profiles do not. Books, art, and culture matter. Celebrities, influencers, and elites do not. Let’s constantly remind ourselves of the things that matter and things that don’t. 

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