The Comfort of Being Apolitical

 

My parents never discussed politics with me.

Both of them were government servants, and in those days there was an unspoken discipline around that. Political opinions, affiliations, and preferences were things they simply did not speak about openly.

As a kid, even when I was curious enough to ask them whom they voted for, the answer was always the same — that they were not supposed to talk about their political affiliations.

So I never really knew.

To this day, I am not entirely sure which political party either of them supported. I have my guesses, but they remain guesses.

In that sense, my home was almost deliberately apolitical. No dinner table debates. No arguments about leaders or policies.

But there was one rule that never changed  - watching news.

We had only national television in those days. Although cable TV was emerging, my parents avoided it to restrict my screen time. The television itself came with rules — strict limits on what I could watch and when I could watch it.

But the evening 7:30 news was always on.

Every day. Even during exam time.

I didn’t understand most of it back then — parliamentary updates, election coverage, international conflicts, long speeches by leaders, economic announcements that meant very little to a kid. Most of it went over my head.

But I watched it anyway — partly to see which anchor was reading it, and partly to not miss my allowed screen time :)

And slowly, something else happened.

Without realizing it, I was becoming aware of the political world. I knew the names of leaders. I recognized when elections were happening.

My parents never told me what to think about politics. They never tried to shape my opinions.

But they made sure I knew that public life existed.

Looking back now, I realize how important that small routine was.

These days, I often hear people say, almost with relief, “I don’t follow politics.”

And I get it.

Politics today feels overwhelming. It is everywhere — television debates, social media arguments, news alerts that arrive faster than anyone can process them, endless commentary that turns every issue into a fight.

It’s easier to step away and focus on your own life. Life already asks for so much attention — bills, responsibilities, aging parents, children growing up, careers that demand more energy every year.

Remaining apolitical begins to feel like peace.

But politics has a strange way of refusing that distance.

Even when we stop paying attention to it, it continues quietly shaping the conditions of our lives — the cost of fuel, the availability of jobs, the quality of schools and hospitals, whether a society becomes more stable or more fragile.

And when we step away from trying to understand it, that space does not remain empty, something else quietly fills that space

Narratives.

Because when complex systems are ignored, the human mind naturally reaches for the simplest explanation. And today, those explanations are everywhere — confident speeches, short viral clips, emotional slogans, forwarded messages, opinions that sound certain even when they are not.

Propaganda doesn’t even look like propaganda anymore.

It looks like pride.

It looks like loyalty.

It looks like protecting identity, defending culture, standing strong against enemies.

And if you’re not paying attention to anything deeper, that version slowly becomes the version.

I’ve noticed that even people who say they don’t follow politics still end up with strong political views.

Not from reading or understanding.

But from repetition.

From familiarity.

From hearing the same thing often enough that it starts to feel true.

It’s subtle.

You don’t really see it happening.

One day you’re just scrolling.

Next day, you’re convinced.

Sometimes I wonder whether the real danger is not political disagreement. Disagreement is natural in any society.

The deeper danger might be indifference.

A society where many people quietly decide that politics is too frustrating to engage with -  leaving public decisions to whoever happens to be loudest, most confident, or most skilled at shaping emotions.

The uncomfortable reality is that democracy quietly depends on citizens who are willing to stay curious. 

They don't need to be experts. But just enough curiosity to occasionally step beyond the surface and ask what is really happening.

Because the deep ends of politics exist whether we explore them or not.

And when too many of us stay on the surface, someone else steps in to make sense of it for us — in the simplest way possible!