Day 16: Living the change
A politician believes that everyone is a politician, so they must manipulate first to keep from getting behind. A thief believes that everyone is a thief, so they must steal to prevent from being stolen from. The cheater believes that everyone is a cheater, so they must cheat to avoid being cheated and coming in last. How we see ourself impacts how we see others as well.
On the other side of the spectrum, the optimist believes that they should be optimistic because everyone else is as well. My friend Abodh falls into this category; with an equal mixture of innocence and rationality, he frequently lays out calculations for what it might take to end hunger or homelessness.
“If there are 200 million hungry people in India and 638 districts, then there are about 300,000 hungry people per district. Our district is on the smaller side, so let’s say half of that; 150,000 people. And our district has 771 villages, so that means 190–200 hungry people per village. Now, many of these villages have large landowners, with over 50 acres. If he were to donate half his land and keep 25 acres, which is more than enough for him to eat and stay rich, then those 200 people can live and work on the land. And then no one will go hungry again.”
Beyond rural landlords, the other group he often cites are the urban upper middle class. He inquires into how much things cost in urban areas and how much people earn, seeking to see how much money is left over in savings that could be potentially donated. The first surprise comes when we discuss how much money the upper middle class are willing to spend on meals in urban India: “1,200 rupees for a meal! A person here could eat for an entire month on that much!” Or clothes, for example, when we saw a shirt for Rs. 5,000 in Auroville: “This could clothe two people for an entire year where we are.”
The logic is so beautiful and simple. Why wouldn’t those who have enough seek to share it? Not as an act of philanthropy, but just as the obvious thing to do as part of a conscious life and existence.
And yet, there seem to be far more examples of people hoarding for themselves than sharing for the common good. When it comes to land redistribution, take even the Bhoodan movement (land gift movement) pursued by the influential spiritual and political leader Vinobha Bhave to convince wealthy landowners to donate their land to the poor so that they could grow food for basic sustenance — whatever value it may have had over the years, today I’ve visited several villages in Bihar, where the original donated land has been stolen back from the poor by landsharks and wealthy landowners.
Meanwhile, in the urban setting, while there are plenty of rich philanthropists, I can only think of one or two people off the top of my head, who consciously think about the costs of their spending beyond the impact on their own bank account and investments. Philanthropy is more often a self-indulgent activity than a search to change one’s lifestyle to begin living more in line with the flows of the human and natural worlds.
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These conversations came to mind yesterday after watching Searching for Sugarman, a documentary about Sixto Rodriguez. Rodriguez, originally from Detroit, USA, poured his heart and soul into song writing, only to find that he couldn’t even sell enough records to support his basic lifestyle, in spite of his immense talent. Little did he know, however, half way across the world in South Africa, his songs were topping the charts. His words, often times focused on social justice, even inspired a generation of anti-apartheid activists as well. In spite of his fame, he continued to toil away as a contractor, with a bit of political organising on the side. One of his daughter’s says that economic pressures led the Rodriguez family to live in over 25 different houses growing up.
But through a series of accidents and a lot of digging by a duo of South African journalists, Rodriguez was “discovered.” They informed him of his fame in their country, and invited him to come and play — for a crowd of 15,000-plus people. He balked at the offer to appear in their documentary; he balked at the offer to go and play in South Africa; he balked at the idea of his own fame. But eventually he went and played (one wonders if it was more for his fans and for those journalists than for himself). And tickets to his shows now often times retail for hundreds of dollars (my parents told me the tickets to one of his shows in New York a few years back were sold for $500-plus).
The part of Rodriguez’s story that I found most incredible, though, was the fact that he continues to live in the same small, rundown house in Detroit; he gives away almost all of the millions of dollars that he has made to his friends and family; and he basically lives his life as if nothing has changed at all.
Why do I find it incredible? Because it’s so rare; one of the reasons why Abodh’s logic rarely translates to reality is because as we get more money, we begin to accrue more things. As we accrue more things, we then adjust to a different lifestyle. As we adjust to a different lifestyle, it becomes harder and harder to live simpler. We then step onto a never-ending ladder of consumption and hoarding, which has no logical end, as, in theory, we can always have more. When you aspire for more, then it becomes harder to give away to others (unless giving is turned into an act of consumption, which yields you some return). Additionally, the life of many things then becomes the aspiration for others, which only serves to further fuel the rat race.
There are two main arguments that I often hear against living simply. The first is comfort. Why should I make myself uncomfortable, just to save a bit of money? Even if I can give the money I save away, what’s the point if I myself am unhappy?
Fair point, in theory, but what is comfort? Recently five of us traveled on a 40-hour train from Chennai to Patna in the non-AC sleeper class. On the train, one of our teammates from an urban background, who, to her credit had a badly sprained foot, said that she didn’t think she could travel like this anymore and would even consider traveling separately in the future. The response from one of our teammates from a rural background, who was on the top bunk (the hottest part) with a second teammate (since we only have 4 beds/seats for 5 people) said that he loved traveling in this class; it was such a privilege to be in sleeper, as opposed to in general class, which is significantly hotter and more crowded.
Opposite perceptions of the same situation. True, 25-plus years of a certain lifestyle creates a certain comfort zone, but do we not owe it to ourselves and the world to challenge ourselves and our own notions of comfort? Especially when the higher our expectations are, the more likely we are to be let down.
The second argument is that: “I earned this money; I can do whatever the hell I want with it.” That’s also true, in theory. But that logic only works if you see yourself as the centre of the universe, as a being separate from the rest of humanity and the ecosystem, for whom everyone and everything is an object for your own consumption and exploitation.
In reality, nothing could be farther from the truth; the well-being of all people and all species is intrinsically connected to our own well-being. Apart from the simple, intrinsic responsibility we have to all people and species, even the self-centered owe it to themselves to be more selfless, as all things are interconnected. And therefore, everything we do is important, as it will create ripple effects that show up elsewhere.
There are a lot of well-meaning wealthy people, who see change as a process to be engineered, made, or created; it is, again, an object of consumption, similar to buying a pair of shoes (or sometimes, just buying a pair of shoes), not something for them to simply embody in everyday life. It’s completely separate from and outside of ourselves and our own behaviors; change is something that we have to get others to do, not something we have to do ourselves. It’s kind of like the examples given at the beginning of the article: the person who is unwilling to change himself is the same person who believes no one else is changing, and therefore, that everyone else needs to be changed.
When change is considered, it’s to the effect of: how do I continue to live in the same (destructive) way, without giving anything up? Which means that if I’m giving away money, I better be getting something back — like public praise, or these days, even economic returns.
Yet, there’s a problem with thinking about creating a more economically just world as a consumption exercise, as opposed to recognising the need for an entire philosophical make-over; even if all the charity that could be donated were to be donated and hunger were to be solved temporarily, this I’m-the-center-of-the-universe way of thinking will eventually generate the same set of problems. People will eventually seek to cheat and steal from one another once again.
But imagine if we spoke not of creating change, but simply living it? It would be obvious to think about the impact of our consumption choices — that the plastic bag that our chips came in is probably going to end up in the ocean; that our mobile phone is part of a civil war leaving millions of people dead; that all of the appliances we have or aspire to — from ACs to washing machines — are part of the same climactic warming that is leading to natural disasters that kill millions every year, and which will eventually kill us all.
Again, I’m far from living the kind of harmonious life that I would like to give; I’m seriously questioning if my simple existence is more beneficial or harmful for the world as a whole. Why? Because I’m fully guilty on all of the counts I mentioned above; I have a soft spot for salty Indian snacks that come in plastic bags; I have an iPhone filled with conflict minerals; and all of the electricity I use to charge this phone (and other appliances) is produced from dirty power plants. On these grounds, I don’t have authority to tell anyone else how to live.
But I’m trying. It’s not easy when the whole world is built on an economic model and logic that is designed to maximise profits, without considering people and the ecosystem. It’s overwhelming at times, and it’s difficult to get any information about the products we buy and how they were produced. But I’m trying. I’m trying to find out the entire impact of the things I buy and consume — from farmer or miner to production to factory to transportation to all the agents in between to my body to the waste that results. I’m trying to challenge my own notions of what it is that I actually need to live a comfortable and fulfilling life. I’m trying, after 22 years of indoctrination in the US into a fully individualistic existence, to understand my own interconnections and responsibilities within the larger natural ecosystem, including the human one. I’m simply trying to be optimistic, like Abodh, of our collective ability to live the change. And I’ll keep trying.
