Are we alone?
I spend a lot of time thinking about the individual verses the collective. I write. I'm, whether I want to be or not, part of a community of writers. What it means for me to write is different than what it means for there to “in fact be writers.” I drink. When I drink at a bar with a group of friends, 2 layers of “we” compete with my ability to disappear into my phone or call it an early night.
I think people abuse the power of “I” in claims about the “we.”
I, for example, frequently say something like “I hate people.” As a shorthand indictment of the whole of human existence I feel tends towards absurd disappointment. I'm abusing my selfish one-dimensional disposition. The difference between me and the “we,” whom I claim to hate, is I can write a blog identifying what I'm doing. I want to know how far it goes, why and when I use it, and whether or not something can be done about my personality and habit to get better.
I think it's amazingly easy to see the difference in types of people when you consider arguments. Literally every kind of argument breaks down the same way. It's “I” assertions and feelings abused to avoid or dismiss how “we” can come to an understanding. “I” found this chart that refutes “our” collective knowledge about climate change. “I” have a personal relationship with god that overrides “our” collection of gods mine definitely didn't rip off. “I” know cops who don't kill black kids so “our” conception of race is unfairly painting police in a corner. “I” worked for everything I have so “our” poverty is truly about lazy drug addicted welfare queens.
It's what I call small-minded. It's reflexive and therefore not necessarily malicious. People rely on the mental tools their environments have cultivated. If you don't provide a path for them to get over themselves, I would argue you're literally never talking to them. It's not just ships passing in the night, it's planets never learning of each others' existences.
At the same time, I think the burden is unduly shouldered by the people able to identify the problems I'm talking about. It's my fault when you don't understand because I'm claiming to understand why you don't understand. Me using “big words,” again, a charge I don't understand, and getting “meta” about the conversation, analyzing why it's failing as a last recourse, aren't communication towards anyone but people who already agree but are wise enough not to argue. I know this. The idea that I have to play with and trick you should no less give you pause.
For my part, I'm trying. I'm working on creating tools that make me hate you less. I don't like to feel like things are “pointless” to talk about. I don't like to believe people are going to live and die by their ignorance and biases. I'm not going to stop feeling like I'm truly the one to blame as long as I continue to talk about “all of you” like you won't find me puking in the toilet next to you when it all becomes too much.
I spend a lot of time thinking about the individual verses the collective. I write. I'm, whether I want to be or not, part of a community of writers. What it means for me to write is different than what it means for there to “in fact be writers.” I drink. When I drink at a bar with a group of friends, 2 layers of “we” compete with my ability to disappear into my phone or call it an early night.
I think people abuse the power of “I” in claims about the “we.”
I, for example, frequently say something like “I hate people.” As a shorthand indictment of the whole of human existence I feel tends towards absurd disappointment. I'm abusing my selfish one-dimensional disposition. The difference between me and the “we,” whom I claim to hate, is I can write a blog identifying what I'm doing. I want to know how far it goes, why and when I use it, and whether or not something can be done about my personality and habit to get better.
I think it's amazingly easy to see the difference in types of people when you consider arguments. Literally every kind of argument breaks down the same way. It's “I” assertions and feelings abused to avoid or dismiss how “we” can come to an understanding. “I” found this chart that refutes “our” collective knowledge about climate change. “I” have a personal relationship with god that overrides “our” collection of gods mine definitely didn't rip off. “I” know cops who don't kill black kids so “our” conception of race is unfairly painting police in a corner. “I” worked for everything I have so “our” poverty is truly about lazy drug addicted welfare queens.
It's what I call small-minded. It's reflexive and therefore not necessarily malicious. People rely on the mental tools their environments have cultivated. If you don't provide a path for them to get over themselves, I would argue you're literally never talking to them. It's not just ships passing in the night, it's planets never learning of each others' existences.
At the same time, I think the burden is unduly shouldered by the people able to identify the problems I'm talking about. It's my fault when you don't understand because I'm claiming to understand why you don't understand. Me using “big words,” again, a charge I don't understand, and getting “meta” about the conversation, analyzing why it's failing as a last recourse, aren't communication towards anyone but people who already agree but are wise enough not to argue. I know this. The idea that I have to play with and trick you should no less give you pause.
For my part, I'm trying. I'm working on creating tools that make me hate you less. I don't like to feel like things are “pointless” to talk about. I don't like to believe people are going to live and die by their ignorance and biases. I'm not going to stop feeling like I'm truly the one to blame as long as I continue to talk about “all of you” like you won't find me puking in the toilet next to you when it all becomes too much.
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