Let’s Talk About Why I Don’t Talk About Politics

The Israel Knesset in Session. Photo Credit: Wikimedia

I don’t like talking about politics. I find the process mind-numbingly pointless.

Most conversations offer some sort of benefit – new information learned, an insight shared, a feeling of closeness, fostered.

Politics are usually a discussion about that which is known, expressed in a way that has already been heard, and tends to be one of the most divisive topics on the planet.

And that’s before we even discuss Israeli politics.

Israeli politics are so frustrating that just thinking about them can cause you to have a stroke (look what happened to Ariel Sharon).

If you operate under the formula of 2 Jews = 3 opinions, the conclusion is that a fully occupied Knesset (although rare) would represent 180 opinions. This is too many opinions for any room to handle, let alone a building as ugly as the Knesset.

It’s like playing chess, but with 120 pieces, and with no rules to speak of.

Contrary to the liberal belief that diversity is positive, the diversity of a political party does not bode well for its survival. Like a cell, as soon as any single party reaches a critical mass, it splits into two smaller parties, but not before the prerequisite mud-slinging fest has ensued.

Furthermore, every party is responsible for the furthering of just one single cause, at the expense of all others. Do you represent national security? Then screw the homeless. Do you represent the homeless? Then screw logic. Do you represent the legalization of weed? Then screw everything.

As a result, the poor voter must execute a series of gut-wrenching tactical decisions at the voting booth. It’s like playing chess, but with 120 pieces, and with no rules to speak of.

They must choose which of the dozens of causes represented they value most, disregarding all the others. They must evaluate which of the parties is least likely to double cross them and choose to represent the exact opposite cause. They must endure the maddening six months before the elections during which man and media can discuss nothing else. They must watch as their hard-earned tax dollars are wasted with abandon on terrible ads and election infrastructure.

In the course of nine years and three days that I will have been an Israeli adult, I will have had the dubious merit of voting four times.

But that is not the worst of it. The worst of it is how often we get to do it. In the course of nine years and three days that I will have been an Israeli adult, I will have had the dubious merit of voting four times.

Yes, I understand your point about this election being particularly important, and its representation of a turning point in Israel’s history. And indeed, you appear terribly confident in your assessment of the election results and their subsequent effect on our daily lives.

Furthermore, I have heard your impassioned plea that I vote for your neighbor’s uncle, whom you know personally and who plans on campaigning for the rights of stray cats (wasn’t it the shoemakers union last election?).

I’d still prefer to change the topic to something more productive.

Let’s talk about the weather.