Resisting Apathy

Welcome to Being Animal. This newsletter explores the intricacies of human-animal relationships. Through personal stories, commentary on current events, and thought-provoking debates, I hope to challenge your assumptions and deepen your understanding of how animals are treated in our society. How we treat animals matters— for our own health, for our planet, and for our sense of morality and humanity.

I want to make the world a better place for animals. To do this, we have to change how we think about animals. This week, I’ve been reflecting on apathy, and why it’s so dangerous to our dreams of a better world.

It’s been a long week.

The election is finally over, and the outcome has made millions of Americans worry for their futures. I have my own thoughts about why this happened, and what it means for the next four years. I fear for the environment, for animals, and for people, just like many others. I keenly remember what the Trump administration did last time they were in office, appointing judges who flout the rule of law and deregulating with abandon. I know they’re coming back into office smarter this time, and more prepared.

But I’m also concerned with a growing sense of fatigue I feel taking hold in myself.

I don’t feel quite as fired up about these issues as I did four or eight years ago. Lately I find myself shrugging in a cosmic, general way at some of these fears I listed above. We’ve been through this before. We’ve shouted about this before. We tried, and we failed. Again. I feel this uneasy malaise settling over me. Will it ever be any different?

I don’t like this reaction of mine.

It feels like apathy.

Apathy is defined as “lack of feeling or emotion.” It’s a dangerous response to the world, because it’s so hard to overcome. It’s rooted in a deep lack of interest, verging on futility and even nihilism.

Apathy is something that affects us all, to varying degrees. We can’t care about everything and everyone, everywhere, all at once. That would be overwhelming. Instead, we care about those closest to us, the issues that spark something in our guts, and the creatures who mean something to us. Everyone has things they care about, and things they don’t.

I think it’s an important moment in our American history to reflect on this question. What, really, do we care about? What is worth fighting for? Where will we see growth and progress and change if we put effort into the cause?

Do you feel apathetic about anything right now?

Many people feel something like apathy about farmed animals, for example. Even if we “care” in the abstract about animal welfare, many people don’t care enough to do anything about it, like reducing animal consumption. I think this is a type of apathy: knowing a new road exists but choosing instead the path of least resistance.

Fighting apathy is difficult. It is an uphill battle to make someone care when they have stopped caring. All the normal tools of persuasion falter in the face of apathy: invoking a sad story, citing statistics, urging action—it all requires someone to respond with care, or with interest. Otherwise, it’s just noise.

How can we reignite the spark of passion and determination? How can we inspire people that something is worth the effort, worth the fight?

I don’t have all the answers.

But I do believe there are some things we can each do every day. When I was training for marathons, there was a mantra I said to myself over and over again on long runs: Fight fatigue with form. The idea was to fool your tired body and mind into strong performance by focusing on what you could control. Instead of letting your back hunch and your heels scuff, keep your chest open and hips driving forward. The good habit of good form will drag your tired body along, maybe even tricking it into thinking you had more energy than you did. Sure enough, even a tired body knows what to do when asked.

So too here.

If we’re feeling exhausted, apathetic, and indifferent at the state of things, we can simply choose to fight that fatigue with good form. Fake it ‘til we make it.

Here’s some ideas of small actions we can take every day:

• Reading more broadly than usual, in different genres or from different media sources, can help us expand our worldview and learn how others go through life.

• Educating ourselves on people and issues we might not normally pay attention to can fight apathy with effort.

• Eating plant-based, even a few times a week, can help push us towards a more compassionate planet one meal at a time, helping us to be mindful of what’s on our plate. It’s a concrete way to build empathy for other creatures into our days, even if it’s not a permanent change.

• Traveling, if you’re able, to places you’ve never been in our country (maybe even some swing states), and observing what you see, can help broaden our horizons. I saw so much while traveling for my book, and it has helped me understand our national politics in a new light.

• Donating to organizations that are gearing up to fight Trump 2.0 can help us feel engaged and active as we march towards inauguration day.

• Taking time away from the relentless news cycle can help us jump back into the fight recharged when we’re ready. Rest is important!

Whatever steps we take, fighting apathy is crucial.

Apathy is a form of submission, and I’m not going to submit to this radical idea of America. I have my own, and I want to keep fighting for it.

We have so much work to do, for ourselves, for each other, and for the animals.