Is there anything that has no politics? Maybe politics isn’t the right word, because polis has its roots in the name of Aristotle’s classic work, Politiká, which introduced the Ancient Greek term politiká (Πολιτικά, ‘affairs of the cities’). Polis denotes city/town. Politics implies policy and police, the connotation means social system and social system might mean consequence or even simply effect, but originally, polis had a local sense—that which I can affect as a citizen.

Journalism, even very early writings written by travelers, including Herodotus and Thucydides, stretched the meaning of politics from its local association to global consideration, but those who could effect change still operated on a local basis. The feudal system avoided politics by installing kings by divine right. Politics, as Hilary Mantel made clear in Wolf Hall, happened behind the scenes. But in our current times, due to social media, politics means everything. Last night, I watched a film about surfing. How lovely to take a break from The Pitt—a medical drama whose political context is, when our community foregoes mental health care, physical health care, educational ambition, neighborhood and family support, it all ends up in the ER. Or, when watching Somebody Somewhere where people outcast from society find their own company, but still struggle. Or when looking on Facebook and seeing just a speck of a book and wonder if friend’s book will be prized or ignored based on who uplifts it, who lends their name and prestige to it. I’m sitting with my cats and wondering how often they kill birds and know I can’t tell Facebook that! Or, thinking about how environmentally unsound it is to have dogs—what animals died to manufacture, industrially, on a global scale, pet food?

But this surfing show, 100 Foot Wave, seemed so politically free. For the first five minutes. How self-sufficient a sport. Paddle to a wave. Step up on a board (made of plastic, not entirely free of harm) and ride a wave. But then the waves became too crowded. Now we need a boat with a two-stroke engine to drive us out to the less-populated bigger waves. Now tourists flock, even in the winter, to Nazaré, Portugal the town where hundred-foot waves are promised. Now the two-stroke engines slip carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and gasoline/oil mixtures into the ocean.

At a faculty meeting, we discussed how we writing professors use AI. Some faculty ask their students to ask ChatGPT to generate an essay, then ask students to write their own and compare them. The students prefer the homegrown essays. At least for now. During the meeting, a post popped up on my screen (which, if I were my colleagues, I’d be annoyed—who has their screens open at meetings?) that more energy will be used than all the homes in Wisconsin to power a data center for AI. One of my colleagues compared AI to a car. She said you like that it’s there but you don’t want to use it all the time. You need to exercise your brain just as you do your body. That’s why we have treadmills. I thought, or, we could have built a non-automobile world where you had to, say, walk to work, thereby requiring neither mechanized transport or exercise.

Online, it never ends. Israel is storming into Gaza after bombing, then starving the people. How much more death. Off the coast of Venezuela, our government killed people on boats with no evidence of their drug trafficking and even if there were evidence, no right to torpedo people out of the water without a declared war (and even then?). Also off the coast of Venezuela, the ocean current that usually comes this time of year to stir up nutrients to feed the fish which feed the Venezuelans didn’t arrive. Also, inside Venezuela, a glacier that provides water for a huge number of the population, has shrunk to near uselessness. Also, it’s hunting season for wolves in Wyoming. Also, my university just got its budget cut again. Also, Trump canceled another wind farm. Also, the Supreme Court is young and ugly and may overturn a 2007 ruling that regulates greenhouse gas emissions. If glaciers, boats, and wolves are political, what isn’t? How many times a day can I be made mad.

I’m not the only mad one mad. It’s not only me who finds everything political. Cancel culture is politics. Someone’s mad at me for feeling sorry for the kid who shot Charlie Kirk. Rebecca Solnit is mad that people are calling resistance against the admin a lost cause (I am also mad at they who are giving up the fight). Democrats are mad at the Dems. The Republicans are mad at the libs who they have fully owned but still blame for political violence that is perpetuated mainly by them. The politicians are mad at the politicians. Adam Schiff is mad a Kash Patel. Kash Patel is mad at the meme-maker who voiced and animated a baby who looked and spoke just like him.

Trump was mad a Stephen Colbert so he had him fired for his politics. Trump, or the FCC, was mad a Jimmy Kimmel, so they fired him for his speech which they called political. I’m mad that so much power rests in one politician’s hands that he can quell speech. I understand that yes, in a capitalist economy, there are consequences for what one says, which isn’t the same as denying free speech. But if you and your buddies are buying all the media outlets AND firing people for speaking their own thoughts, that is tantamount to suppressing free speech.

I do feel for Tyler Robinson who shot Charlie Kirk. I feel badly for Charlie Kirk even though I thought he was a bully. I feel bad about Melissa Hortman, state legislator, her husband and her dog who were shot in Minnesota. I feel bad for the professor at Ball State for saying that she was sorry Kirk was killed but that he himself did sow violence. I feel bad for political violence. I feel for all the kids who are made constantly mad. I feel for the kids who are mad but say they’re not political. Politics is everything and everything is maddening? Who can tell the difference between politics and anger?

The question is, what to do with this madness? I was talking with a friend last week as we listed all the horrors. She asked how come I didn’t sound upset. I told her I was upset but that I spend so much time being upset, I have my anger pretty measured by now. As you can see from above, I spend a lot of time thinking how little actions like driving two-stroke jet skis contribute to global warming—as if one individual action can have planetary consequences. Climate Change, like social media, makes us think broadly and also angrily. The only solution I can find is, ironically, in the opposing premise above: I do think one action can have planetary consequences. Or, rather, I do think local action can make a difference. Or, if nothing else, is the antidote to anger. Every action I’ve taken (as opposed to internet scrolling or news reading) has lessened the anger. From delivery food at the Food Center to marching at the protests, from writing fact-filled postcards about the Big Beautiful Bill to collecting clothes for people in Ukraine, when I’m doing something locally, even if it’s for global causes, I’m less mad. And truly, none of these things is really political. Most of us, on the ground, are just working to make as many things better as we can. Even those who really just want to ride 100-foot waves. I’m sure if I were in Nazaré, Portugal and met the people who worked in the city, I would probably even learn to like the boats. (Also. I canceled Disney and Hulu because they fired Jimmy Kimmel. Anger has its place!)