Worldly wise

One big thing that's changed as I get older is that my passionate youthful idealism has given way to a more realistic view of the world and the realisation that things are a lot more complicated and a lot harder to change than the teenage me naively assumed.

How difficult could it be, I thought, to end poverty or homelessness or sexism or warmongering? Surely if enough people wanted to banish these things, it could be done? Surely if enough people were sufficiently horrified and sickened by what other people were forced to endure, then things would change?

I was forever going to rallies, going to sit-ins, signing petitions, lobbying politicians, and being the stereotype frenzied activist, espousing every worthy cause and predicting a better tomorrow.

I gradually realised as I grew older and more worldly-wise that these problems were much too deeply rooted to be eradicated overnight. They were so embedded in our collective way of life, so taken-for-granted as "just one of those things" ("the poor are always with us") that it would take the most colossal effort to make even the smallest inroads into these long-standing horrors.

I could agitate to the point of exhaustion with little to show for it because so many people were content to live with these problems rather than solving them. Or even worse, they stood to gain from them. The weapons manufacturers. The loan sharks. The privileged males. The landlords charging exorbitant, unaffordable rents.

So now I desist from most political activity and let others summon up their enthusiasm and optimism on my behalf. I still sign petitions and email my MP but that's about it. I anticipate that by the time I've shuffled off my mortal coil the poor will unhappily still be with us.

Dyed in the wool

One way I've wised up as I get older is my growing awareness of the enormity of prejudice and discrimi-nation. I've realised it's much deeper and much more permanent than I thought.

When I was young, and typically optimistic the world could be rapidly changed for the better if people just pushed hard enough, I fondly imagined prejudice against gays, or transgender people, or blacks, or foreigners, was a very temporary thing and would soon die away.

I was completely ignorant of how engrained these prejudices were, how reluctant people were to drop them, how much they passed from one generation to another, and how eagerly they were nurtured by politicians and the media.

I assumed other people were basically tolerant and open-minded and couldn't hold such prejudices for long without realising how damaging and inhumane they were. I assumed they were as fleeting as snow-storms or flash-floods.

Gradually it dawned on me that these prejudices were often rock-solid. You could argue against them till you were hoarse, but people still held them, utterly convinced of their soundness. The very idea of dropping them would seem like an act of madness.

I realised that although prejudice against certain groups had lessened, it had happened incredibly slowly and was still far from over. There's still strong opposition to gay marriage, to giving transgender people jobs, to promoting blacks, to treating foreigners fairly. In fact many people would like to turn the clock back and remove all the rights these groups have painfully and laboriously gained.

So nowadays, a great deal older and wiser, I assume that rather than demolishing prejudice, which seems near to impossible, the only realistic attitude is to work around it and try to chip away little bits here and there.

My optimistic younger self would be shocked at my new-found pragmatism.

Changing the world

One thing I've realised as I get older is that it's much harder to change the world than I assumed when I was young. The forces of inertia and habit are amazingly strong.

When I was still a teenager, I was quite confident that if enough people stood up and demanded an end to poverty, or equality for women, or more generous wages, then those responsible would take notice and changes would come thick and fast.

I failed to understand just how entrenched existing behaviour can be, and how powerful the sheer weight of tradition, fear, dogma and ignorance that keeps people from altering the status quo they find so cosy and familiar, however oppressive and stifling it may actually be.

I fondly imagined that if I presented people with a reasonable, sensible, well-argued case for ending some obviously abhorrent practice, they would be sure to respond.

Racism, homophobia, sweatshops, domestic violence, they would all be swept away in the face of a rising tide of popular disgust and rage, and a shiny new world of tolerance and enlightenment would take their place.

How naive I was, how deeply unaware of the complexities of other people's reactions and how resistant they are to radical change. And not necessarily without cause. Radical change isn't always as positive as well-meaning idealists like to think, and those who resist may sometimes be wiser and shrewder than the would-be reformers.

But having realised that changing the world is not as easy as I thought it was, nowadays I pick my causes more carefully and only take up arms if I think there's a serious chance of succeeding. I no longer rush to support any worthy campaign that grabs my attention.

I might be able to save the local library, but ending patriarchy in the boardroom will have to stay on the back-burner for a while.