In order for things to matter, a war needs to be waged. The wars on drugs, terrorism, and poverty—all three are mainstream examples of battle rhetoric used in the face of complex social and political issues affecting great numbers of the population. The “war on AIDS” was declared out of need and before widespread access and use of social media. With advancements in medicine and the decline of public protest, the societal investment in the war of AIDS has shrivelled up and died. Don’t get me wrong—every few months or so people gather for Dining Out for Life or donate money to the AIDS walk. But people don’t give a damn where their money is going and why they are participating in an event.

After 30 years, people with HIV are now living longer and in Canada the number of new diagnoses is stable. But a reality that is not worth celebrating is HIV still exists and people are still contracting it. In the early days of the epidemic, the “war” was waged on state institutions, especially those governing health services; medical research; and drug corporations. Then as a result of structural violence fatigue, the war shifted onto the individual—the attribution of fault to the patient. Today, the “war” has turned into an occasional awareness fundraiser campaign! I’m not sure when we stopped caring, but we have to start taking responsibility.

Where the war on AIDS lost its way is when we decided to hate each other. It’s as though we got together and decided the government is too hard to fight and things like universal health care for prescription drugs weren’t that important. Did you know that not everyone who has HIV is able to access life-saving drugs for free?

We used to be easy to mobilize; there used to be rallies in the streets, shirts screen-printed, posters made, pins designed, sit-ins, die-ins, and candlelight vigils to demonstrate the accountability we had and responsibility we were willing to take on.

For those who never stopped fighting or for those who joined in later, the AIDS movement is a community struggling for social and political recognition. The use of the metaphor “war” with respect to the “war on AIDS” is used to polarize opinions and steer a social conflict, which is good, if we are going in the right direction.

Instead of focusing on sensationalized news stories that serendipitously line up with a fundraising campaign, we need to commit to being proactive activists. Gone are the days of AIDS’s notoriety—we need to stop waiting for a champion to catalyze the change. As a collective, we need to rid ourselves of this behaviour: liking something on Facebook and considering ourselves agents of change. Instead, we need to get involved, we need to reconnect with our community, and we need face-to-face encounters. Avoiding physical participation in a movement affords stagnation because it is difficult to assign blame. However that may be the case, we are all responsible.

Machiavelli drove a wedge between ethics and practical action. He counselled: “the way men live is so far removed from the way they ought to live that anyone who abandons what is for what should be pursues his downfall rather than his preservation”.

Maybe I am doing a disservice to the AIDS movement by continuing to frame it in a violent context; this presentation of the problem can obscure opportunities for resolution. While war metaphors can prove to be fruitful, perhaps it would be more constructive to go beyond the imagery of war in search of a more collaborative creation.