Good Times and Genocide

I have a confession: I don't have a cause. I read the news, and worry about the pain and devastating absurdity of the world, and then I generally watch a primetime medical drama. "But," sputters the sensitive young college student, "what about Darfur? Didn't you at least attend that protest?" Shocked by my negative reply, she undoubtedly gives me up as either frivolous or Republican, and the conversation perhaps progresses to the in-fighting of the Grey's Anatomy cast.

Do not mistake me-I am frantic for a cause. I yearn to join the multitudes who chant and cheer against genocide, and who can satiate a most ravenous guilt, not with a meaty and desperate entreaty, but with a lean and clever slogan! My first month of college was a positive blur of meetings and activities fairs-a trail mix assortment of philanthropic gatherings. Much to my frustration, I soon grew allergic to this brand of benevolence. The environmentalists became inexplicably obsessed with "Vegan Awareness Week," which offended both my principles and my bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. The left-leaning clubs just squabbled inanely with the right-leaning clubs, culminating in the ill-fated and ridiculous Minuteman affair. As for the College Democrats, I prefer to let them speak for themselves: "We organize protests and all of the best parties!"

Such a casual statement suggests that current activism is nothing more than a glorified, self-righteous party. Causes have become safety valves for altruism, serving as perfunctory cure-alls for guilt, boredom, and shoddy resumes. Though this realization gradually began to sneak up on me, it was Darfur-the pet cause and darling delight of every good college student-that finally forced me to confront the reality of modern political awareness. Last week, news of a party hosted by Lambda Phi Epsilon arrested my attention and confirmed my epiphany. Their advertisement, displaying an artistically African woman seductively exhaling smoke, proudly proclaimed, "Daiquiris for Darfur."

Daiquiris for Darfur.

This is the solution that occurs to the humanitarian-minded student: guzzle and grind against genocide. I was immediately assaulted by a most disturbing juxtaposition of a and sweaty dance floor full of affluent students and a street full of corpses, while the screams of Justin Timberlake harmonize with the desperate cries of a terrified people. Everything is fine, however, as long as they're sporting their Gap Inspi(red) outfits. Besides, there's a ready cure for anyone who accidentally stumbles onto a tragic thought or a somber feeling: pass that $3 daiquiri!

Whether tragic or comic, this modern slant on philanthropy seems both ghoulishly inappropriate and counterproductive. I refuse to believe that the best means of raising awareness and provoking a serious international debate about genocide lie in drinking ourselves into a charitable stupor. Indeed, what better way is there to trivialize the unimaginable than by incorporating it into a routine Friday night out? That word genocide-bearing all the weight of incomprehensible atrocity-cannot lose its power in our collective search for a fake ID. While these idealistic college days of drinking and protesting may provide great memories to chuckle over in a future corner office, Darfur is not an excuse to party. The Dances, the Daiquiris, and the general Debauchery for Darfur belittle the sufferings of another people and aggrandize our own egos. The Daiquiris for Darfur Facebook event wall is a tidy microcosm of this whole philanthropy debate. One commenter angrily questions the event's validity, another angrily answers, and both yield to one oft-repeated sentiment: "rather than over-analyze all of this, why not have fun with your friends for a charitable cause?" As that comment succinctly illustrates, the point is not to debate but to party as usual in the sacred and guilt-relieving name of charity. Whatever you do, don't spoil the good time by thinking about the cause you're there to support. After all, who can really enjoy themselves while contemplating genocide?

As one of the defensive Facebook debaters wrote, "a solution begins with compassion and understanding." Just so, we need the compassion to treat suffering people as human beings, not as glamorous launching pads for our good time. We need the understanding to realize that few world conflicts can be solved by a college student with a daiquiri. While I appreciate the conflicting desires to both amend and escape the world's horrors, I beg the Columbia community to stop conflating the two. Relax, drink with your friends, and forget cruelty, tragedy, and death. Then, if you still yearn to ease world suffering, abandon your cause and follow your conscience with a clear and sober mind.

The author is a Barnard College first-year.