When I began my first job as a professional campaigner for Amnesty International in 2003, the reactions were rarely neutral - a mixture of discomfort, devil’s advocacy and admiration. But it wasn’t only the fact of the job that provoked these reactions. It was the way I spoke, the intensity of my passion. I’d get so wound up with righteous fury, talking even faster than I usually do, that people would regularly ask, ‘are you ok?’
They also seemed alienated. An angry activist isn’t easy to listen to, and for years I made dinner table conversation unbearable. Like many other progressive activists I would preach tolerance of all diversity… except for those with whom I disagreed. And people felt that judgment, reacting against the person who made them feel bad: me, ‘the activist.’ Students of sociology and political psychology know that we are prone to form group identities in opposition to each other, so an activist, speaking as an activist, may close down the very conversations they want to have.
This matters because activism matters. It feels more necessary than ever. And it’s more visible than it has been for decades, with new movements emerging to challenge old and increasingly pressing problems, like Black Lives Matter, Me Too, Extinction Rebellion, and the school strikes for climate. So making activism more inclusive and less alienating is vital. In which case, what’s really going on, what can we do about it, and how much is the activist’s responsibility?
