Setting resolutions: why an ambitious resolution might not necessarily be the right resolution.

Recently, in a post, I included a quotation from George Orwell's essay, Reflections on Gandhi. The essay is absolutely fascinating, on a number of levels, and also quite controversial; I found myself thinking about a different section of it today, in another context. Note: I'm quoting it because I think it's worth thinking about, not because I necessarily agree with every point Orwell is making here (or ever made in his whole career).

One of Orwell's main arguments is that Gandhi's saintliness makes him inhuman:

But one should, I think, realize that Gandhi's teachings cannot be squared with the belief that Man is the measure of all things and that our job is to make life worth living on this earth, which is the only earth we have. They make sense only on the assumption that God exists and that the world of solid objects is an illusion to be escaped from. It is worth considering the disciplines which Gandhi imposed on himself and which...he considered indispensable if one wanted to serve either God or humanity. First of all, no meat-eating, and if possible no animal food in any form. And finally-- this is the cardinal point--for the seeker after goodness there must be no close friendships and no exclusive loves whatever.

Close friendships, Gandhi says, are dangerous, because "friends react on one another" and through loyalty to a friend one can be led into wrong-doing. This is unquestionably true. Moreover, if one is to love God, or to love humanity as a whole, one cannot give one's preference to any individual person. This again is true, and it marks the point at which the humanistic and the religious attitude cease to be reconcilable. To an ordinary human being, love means nothing if it does not mean loving some people more than others. The autobiography leaves it uncertain whether Gandhi behaved in an inconsiderate way to his wife and children,
but at any rate it makes clear that on three occasions he was willing to let his wife or a child die rather than administer the animal food prescribed by the doctor. There must, he says, be some limit to what we will do in order to remain alive, and the limit is well on this side of chicken broth. This attitude is perhaps a noble one, but, in the sense which--I think--most people would give to the word, it is inhuman. The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one's love upon other human individuals. No doubt alcohol, tobacco, and so forth, are things that a saint must avoid, but sainthood is also a thing that human beings must avoid...it is too readily assumed that "non-attachment" is not only better than a full acceptance of earthly life, but that the ordinary man only rejects it because it is too difficult: in other words, that the average human being is a failed saint. It is doubtful whether this is true. Many people genuinely do not wish to be saints, and it is probable that some who achieve or aspire to sainthood have never felt much temptation to be human beings. It is not necessary here to argue whether the other-worldly or the humanistic ideal is "higher". The point is that they are incompatible.

This issue arose in St. Therese's life. When Therese entered the Carmelite convent at the age of sixteen, she was joining two of her biological sisters, with whom she was extremely close. But Therese allowed herself to show no special interest for these sisters or to seek out their company, although this hurt their feelings very much. Interestingly, though, when she was dying, the Mother Superior arranged things so she could see more of her sisters, and Therese did permit that of herself in that circumstance (though maybe she saw it as an aspect of obedience). Throughout her spiritual memoir, we see Therese discussing this challenge of preference.

In the August 2, 2004, issue of the New Yorker, in the profile "The Gift," Ian Parker wrote about Zell Kravinsky, a real-estate developer with a compulsive desire to give things away, such as most of his $45 million fortune to charity, and one of his kidneys to a stranger, both against the wishes of his family. Is his action saintly or pathological? It's hard to decide.

Kravinsky said, "The sacrosanct comitment to the family is the rationalization for all manner of greed and selfishness," and following this precept, he makes it clear that he tried not to favor his own children above unknown children. When I read this, I had a hard time figuring out why I found that morally shocking. On what basis did I think it right to love and favor your own children more than other people's children? Or why, in the case of Therese, would it seem shocking if she didn't want to have her own beloved biological sisters with her as she died, in preference to the other nuns? Orwell explains why. There are two systems of values.

On a much more trivial scale, prompted by Orwell's observation, I thought about goals that I'd rejected because I assumed they were too difficult, without questioning whether they were actually worthy goals for me, or whether I'd actually be happier if I adhered to them: being a vegetarian, giving up TV, never eating any refined flour or sugar.

Or more to the point, waking up early to work. I've always thought it would be a huge advantage if I could get up at 4:40 or 5:00 am to work, before my family wakes up.

Anthony Trollope, who managed to be a prolific novelist while also revolutionizing the British postal system, attributed his productivity to his habit of starting his day at 5:30 a.m. In his Autobiography, he notes, "An old groom, whose business it was to call me, and to whom I paid 5 pounds extra for the duty, allowed himself no mercy." Which suggests that it's not easy to get out of bed at 5:30 a.m. -- especially if you don't have an old groom on hand to shake you awake.

As it happens, for the last week, and as I write this right now, I spontaneously woke up around 5:00 am, and I got up to work. So I have to decide whether I want to stick to this plan, and MAKE myself get up at that time every day, or go back to 6:45 am.

Well, it turns out that waking up at 5:00 am, while good for my work life, has its drawbacks. It means that I have to go to sleep around 9:30 or 10:00 pm (getting enough sleep is a TOP happiness priority). And that means giving up my time with the Big Man, after our children are in bed. It seems a bit bleak to be going to bed by myself while he's up having fun.

I'd always assumed that if I really had the right stuff, I'd be getting up before dawn to write. Now I'm not so sure.

If you violently disagree with Orwell's points, please read the entire essay. This quotation doesn't capture the complexity of Orwell's argument or his views on Gandhi.

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Comments

[Thomas Herold]

The challenge with setting a huge ambitious goal is, that in most cases, it seems unreachable. Just beyond what's possible and therefore people give up soon.

Goals are mostly artificial concepts of the mind and do not serve the overall path in life. Having a big dream on the other hand connects you with your spirit and your soul purpose. It's something you don't need to make up in your mind. It's something to connect to. Once connected you can set goals on that path, which will support you better as these goals are aligned with your bigger dream.

Cheers

Thomas Herold
CEO Dream Manifesto
http://www.dreammanifesto.com

[Linda]

Fascinating post...I haven't read the full essay, but I will now. Thanks for the food for thought!

[Saralyn]

Reading this reminded me of my mother-in-law's experiences growing up in Africa as a missionary kid in the 1950s and 60s. Her parents reasoned that if serving God meant sending their six children (starting from the age of four) thousands of miles away to boarding school, then that was morally acceptable, even if their children suffered from the lack of their parents, and even on occasions if the children were mistreated at boarding school. They believed that they and their children were suffering for God and to preserve human souls from eternal torment. You can imagine that this was quite devastating to some of their children. My mother-in-law has come to hold to a different view of morality, which says that God wants each person to care for their family first, and after their family's basic needs are met, then help others. She believes that one should never inflict suffering on one's family (especially those dependent on you, such as young children and elderly parents) for the sake of helping others. I think this is part of a larger moral debate between a view in which all moral values must be absolute and held to regardless of the circumstances, and a view in which some moral responsibilities take precedence over others. In the latter view, for instance, it is not immoral to lie in order to preserve someone's life, as some did to protect Jewish families from the Nazis during WWII.

[Count Lev]

Very interesting post-and something I have often thought about myself. One issue touched on is that of finding the right balance of setting and striving for goals while still retaining a certain amount of non-attachment to them. It is obviously healthy and right to have goals (Gandhi wanted to free India; The Dalai Lama wants to free Tibet), but there comes a time when attachment to the result clouds your vision and makes you forget the right reason for striving in the first place. Staying mindful of a moderate balance and checking in with myself to ensure right motivation helps me stay on track.

[Andrea]

This is fascinating.

Of course, developmental psychologists would be quite adamant that children require their parents' special love, as much as they require food and shelter. A child who is not loved can sicken and die precisely the same as a child who is physically starved--so yes, that is morally repugnant to me, because a person's own biological child has different needs of a parent than someone not their biological child. And if a parent can't see that, they have no business having kids because they can't be competent parents.

Which is all to say, go ahead and be a saint if you want to, but then don't have a family. (The general, not the specific "you.")

The essay looks fascinating and the quotes you have included here summarize some of my difficulties with buddhism at large. I *want* to be attached. I love being attached to my daughter, thinking she is special and better and wonderful and wanting to be around her all the time. I believe kids need that from their mothers. So sign me up for failed sainthood.

[MJ]

I just spent much of the time driving back from a long weekend thinking about this topic - very ambitious goals and getting up early in the morning.

Observation #1 - for my uptight, intense, Virgo, only child lawyer self, when I set ambitious goals for myself I tend to beat myself up nonstop for not achieving them to my standard (very high) fast enough (very fast). But a life without ambitious goals? That sounds unrewarding. Though who knows, maybe I'd find a lot of deep happiness in sweeping my garage and living small. Don't know, never tried it.

Observation #2 - the early morning poses a huge dilemma. If I get up early to exercise, do yoga, meditate for 10 minutes (see, I'm trying to get less uptight) I'm very happy and feel great. But I don't get writing done because the rest of the day turns into work, work, work, professional reading, and bedtime. If I get up early to write, I don't get my beloved 5-6 am time outside (my favorite quiet hours).

No answers - but you got the question right, Gretchen. It is all give and take and when we gain on one point we give up on another. I also cannot watch TV with my husband past 10 pm - regardless of what I do early in the a.m. I'm unconscious then. I guess we just choose and choose again if the consequences aren't to our liking.

[Michael F. Martin]

What Ghandi and Kravinksy seem to have discovered is that when our focal point is on a particular person or group of people, there is an inherent tension built into our interaction with others (besides the person or group within our focal point). Their fanatical devotion to a non-person/group-specific focal point is what permitted them to demonstrate and live at peace with so many different people.

But what if our focal point was not person or group-specific, and yet permissive and encouraging of expressions of commitment to a person or group. Is a focal point external to any particular person necessarily exclusive of cooperation? I think not, especially when we consider the mutability of so many social conditions. We can share over time what we cannot share at a moment in time.

[Gabrielle H]

I agree that most people would not want to be saints, and not just because it is hard. That is why saints are so rare and special. They are needed, which is why they are sent by God, but most people cannot and perhaps should not seek to emmulate their life style

[Elizabeth]

This is a particularly interesting post. I especially loved Orwell's comment suggesting that saints and humans are different races! I wonder whether saintly love, the generalised love of Gandhi and St Theresa, is simply incompatible with ordionary human love - without which most people, and certainly small children, cannot thrive? We need both, but perhpas not as many saints as one might think.

[Niel Malan]

Can saintly parents produce saintly children? Research seems to show that children do need special, individualized attention. Would a saint be able to give this kind of love? If not, then saintliness is not for everyone.

On another track, I am developing a strong anti-hero sentiment. We don't need heroes. We need ordinary people who are mature and balanced. Saints are heroes.

[Audrey]

It's fascinating how so many people have pulled something different out of this passage from Orwell. What struck me the most was challenging the assumption that most people are failed saints. I think we often take on ideals and goals without ever asking ourselves "Is this really the right goal for me?"

We say that we don't do things like be vegetarian or stop watching TV because they are "too hard." But many times they just don't reflect our actual values. It may be easier for us psychologically and socially to say that it's too hard to stop eating meat, rather than admitting that we just don't care that much about animals.

I think it's important to be honest, at least with ourselves, about our true values. We don't need to adopt the values of saints, or of our parents, or of our peers. Once we acknowledge what is really important, we can set appropriately ambitious goals. For example, if I care passionately about ending world hunger, I can set extremely ambitious goals, work for charities, set up distribution systems, visit Africa and set up communal farms. If I only care a little bit, it may be enough to donate $10/month to a charity. The person who does the latter isn't a worse person than the first.