A Fool's Errand (or, My Goodbye Post)

I've never been able to fully explain what drew me to work on genocide, and I seem to have no compelling enough response to the quizzical looks of those who do not understand how anyone could devote so much time to a topic so depressing. Like the many advocates in this movement who find themselves in the same position, I believe that genocide represents humankind at its worst, and the moral imperative to fight against it is undeniable.

Most days, I do not believe that "never again" is an achievable ideal. But I do believe that we can get close, and that we have an obligation to try, regardless of the overwhelming risk of failure.

After nearly two years of daily blogging, I've made the difficult decision to move on from Change.org. I've seen Change.org grow from a handful to a hundred, and look forward to watching it progress even further. I thank everyone — but especially Ben, Josh, and Mike Jones — for the opportunity to have shared this platform and been a part of this team. I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to my readers, and the many friends I've made along the way. Your support, encouragement, and — perhaps most of all — arguments are all appreciated; engaging with a community of activists and fellow bloggers has been the most enjoyable part of working for Change.org.

For me, the most interesting ongoing conversation, and at times the most frustrating, has been the debate over the anti-genocide movement itself. Last year, closing out what became an extensive multi-blog "rumble," I wrote:

What upsets me is when, as we watch the catastrophe in Darfur unfold before our eyes, the debate moves from its merits and into attacks and accusations, when the genuine care and concern of activists and policymakers — who at some point in their lives were moved by the Holocaust, Rwanda, or any number of other atrocities — are dismissed as 'self-indulgent,' or they are told that they just 'don't get it.' Of course we 'get it.' That's why we are here.

This movement is made up of people whose commitment to tackling one of the world's most intractable problems is sincere and unwavering. Sure, we can do many things better, and must learn from past mistakes and misjudgments, and there is, of course, no room for ego or self-congratulations. Sometimes some of us forget that. But to suggest that the intentions that drive this movement are somehow self-serving is to disregard its fundamental concern with human connection, across all boundaries and against all odds. There is nothing wrong with being horrified by the scourge of genocide and mass killing, and feeling compelled to find a way to stop the violence. It's audacious — maybe even a fool's errand — but there's nothing wrong with it.

Frankly, I wouldn't want to live in a world where there was.

Photo credit: Jerry