Democracy Inaction: It's Too Busy Miming
How Political Theater Replaced Actual Governance with a Mosh Pit
Welcome to American democracy, where the elected officials are cover bands, the venue owners count money in the back office, and everyone in the mosh pit thinks they're changing the world by body-slamming each other.
The Mimecraft
On any given day, you can watch politicians frantically gesture at invisible barriers while accomplishing absolutely nothing. Democrats signal outrage about Republican cuts while quietly laying off hundreds of state workers. Republicans perform populism while serving corporate donors. Everyone's pressing against glass walls that don't exist, trapped in their own performance boxes.
Meanwhile, actual people get actual layoff notices. ODOT workers in Oregon just learned they're getting pink slips because the state legislature couldn't pass transportation funding. But hey, at least their representatives sent strongly worded emails about the federal "Big Ugly Bill."
The Mosh Pit
The audience has been convinced they're part of the show. Activists tape manifestos to telephone poles screaming "FIGHT THIS NOW!" in all caps. Partisan email lists blast "DONATE TODAY!" like it's Black Friday. Everyone's thrashing around, occasionally colliding with someone from the other side, convinced they're having an authentic political experience.
Call your representative! (They won't budge.) Donate to the cause! (You just bought more fundraising emails.) Share this post! (The algorithm thanks you for your engagement.)
It's all violent motion with no actual direction. Lots of sweat, occasional bruises, and the vague sense that something important is happening. But nobody can tell what song is playing or why they're here.
The Real Show
Here's the thing about mosh pits: the band keeps playing regardless of what's happening on the floor.
The elected officials think they're rock stars, but they're really just hired entertainment. Replaceable cover bands following a setlist they mostly didn't write, trying to keep the crowd engaged while the real decisions happen backstage. They can posture and preen all they want, but if they displease management, their mic gets cut.
The venue owners? They don't even need to be visible. They own the space, set the rules, take the biggest cut. Corporate lobbyists, defense contractors, pharmaceutical companies, tech giants - they're counting money in the back office while everyone else fights over the opening act.
Security makes sure the chaos stays contained in designated areas and that actual power never gets hassled by the thrashing masses.
The Real Fun
Of course, the people truly having fun are the ones making out in the bathroom stalls.
While everyone else gets bruised and exhausted in the pit, convinced they're part of something earth-shattering, there's always that couple who slipped away to actually enjoy themselves. They're not performing resistance or building activist credentials - they're just connecting on a human scale while everyone else takes themselves way too seriously.
They're the neighbors helping each other move furniture without making it about housing justice. The community garden folks who grow vegetables without turning it into food politics. The book club that somehow never devolves into arguments about democracy.
The venue owners don't profit from them because they're not buying overpriced drinks or generating engagement metrics. The band can't see them because they're not in the spotlight. Security ignores them because they're not causing trouble.
Meanwhile, they're having the most authentic experience in the whole venue.
The Exit Strategy
The beautiful thing about mosh pits is you can leave whenever you want.
Stop calling representatives who were never going to listen. Stop donating to email lists that treat every Tuesday like the apocalypse. Stop performing democracy and start practicing it at human scale - city council meetings, neighborhood associations, mutual aid networks that actually help people instead of generating content.
The venue owners would prefer you stay in the pit, exhausting yourself on symbolic battles while they handle the real business. But the exit door is right there.
The question is: are you here for the authentic political experience, or do you just like getting elbowed in the face while someone screams about resistance?
Your choice. The band will keep playing either way.