Day 82: The 3-D Oscillations of my mind

How I think about the never-ending confusion

I once got into an argument with a girl I was dating about how or whether pursuing a life of personal fulfilment, without any intentions to consider or work for larger goals of social justice, was okay.

My standpoint was no, and my argument was that there is too much suffering and oppression in the world to simply ignore it in lieu of pursuing one’s own passion or interest.

Her view was that people can do whatever they want; it’s their lives, so they should do whatever they are passionate about. It’s not up to us to judge them.

I was reminded of this conversation recently while speaking to a new friend, Priya. She was talking about the meta struggle she faces when she meets privileged people who are living intentionally, but who seem to have little concern for larger social justice. For example, the polyamorous or “poly” community, where she has recently met people. She said that she found, overall, a high level of self-awareness and intentionality around people’s sexuality and sexual choices, but also felt that there was an underlying ethic of hedonism and pleasure that she found problematic.

She laid out her own conflict on this issue — in theory, who is she to judge? Yet, what she often really feels in such contexts is a sense that there’s something wrong with creating a bubble of hedonism and pleasure when the outside world is so filled with suffering.

But then comes the internal pushback that asks whether or not this strong aversion comes only from her moral compass, or whether there’s some other reason why she’s resisting, lodged somewhere deep in her subconscious.

I find myself in a similar mental ping-pong match all the time. For people who are thinking critically through how and what they think, if they reach a conclusion for the kind of course of action they want to take, then how can I judge them? Even for those who aren’t thinking critically— to what extent can I really blame them for not doing so in a society, which, in the aggregate, places little value on actually doing so?

And if I re-read my last statement, I see the hidden assumption that I am thinking critically, and therefore, I have the right to ask such a question. But isn’t that also presumptuous? What evidence or right do I have to call my thinking more “critical” than anyone else’s?

Which speaks to another internal tension I feel around these issues, which is the tendency for many people who are engaged in social justice work to develop a saviour/hero complex. How pure are my actual intentions? Do I actually do the work I do because I seek to live in a more just society? Is there a part of me that does it for the kind of identity and self-story it provides me? And for the feedback it inevitably brings — “you’re doing such great and important work.”

And if that’s the case, then am I worse than the person who simply didn’t even bother pretending that they were somehow pure, and instead, just did whatever the hell they felt like doing?

But then I feel a pushback from the part of me that says all people and things in our world are interrelated, and therefore, there’s a responsibility for all of us to consider each other and the environment when making decisions. It’s less about “change” or “helping” anyone, and more about a shared, common fate that we all share in this interconnected world — justice for me is justice for you, and vice versa.

And if that’s true, then people who are intentionally pursuing communities and activities that they find to be valuable are adding to the overall diverse fabric, which, I think, makes for a healthier society. Though, that can also be questioned once we start looking more critically at what those communities are based on, how rules of membership work, how much it costs to participate (and, therefore, who gets excluded), what the impact is on the environment, and so on. The immediate response would be to take a utilitarian view that it’s “okay so far as no one gets harmed” — but in a world of interconnectedness, harm is much less tangible; it exists in the silent and unseen suffering that those who are excluded experience, rather than simply in our economic, educational, or health balance sheets.

And then I think back to Bihar, where there are so many people who don’t have enough food everyday. And all of this intellectual banter feels absurd. Yes, the “dialectical method” and “historical analysis” can be used to understand, and perhaps, come up with tactics, but a truly hungry person doesn’t give a shit about either — a reality I’ve found my leftist professors utterly unwilling to confront in our discussions. And, true, if larger systems of inequality of injustice aren’t addressed, then that same person may be hungry tomorrow — but again, tomorrow only matters if he or she eats today.

I wonder if all of this thinking about my thinking will prevent me from doing anything at all — apart from thinking, that is. Then all of my actual aims for a more just world will simply remain within my head, never actualized. And yet, then I think if I try to act without giving adequate thought to what I’m going to do, then I might end up causing more harm.

All of these competing thoughts frequently create great strife in me. Yet, I often wonder whether it’s actually a problem or not that I’m having all of these seemingly contradictory arguments run through my head. Perhaps the problem is not the simultaneous, 3-dimensional oscillation between these several different logics, but rather, that I want the uncertainty to end. That I want answers immediately, without having to get in the mud and dig.

Perhaps, it’s a bit like walking in the dark — you can’t see where you’re going, but you walk anyway — toe scratch by toe scratch and hand claw by hand claw. You build enough information to move forward, while remaining clouded in uncertainty. At times, the uncertainty may be so great that you’re forced to stop and really reevaluate where you are, while other times, you might get into a grove and start to move forward quickly without even needing to think too much.

Or maybe not.