On expectations and disappointments

Our perception of separateness or otherness from the rest of the world is a crucial aspect of our existence. This means that we must interact with one another as separate beings. This interaction could be in terms of some expectations from each other, and with something to offer in return (like love, friendship and work). The expectations, in some way, help us interact and unite with others by defining the terms of engagement with them. Expectations are central to our attempt to project ourselves into the future (immediate or distant), which is a fundamental tendency of the way we usually live, a little ahead of the present moment, always anticipating, hoping, planning, and of course, dreaming. We expect people to be non-violent, so we dare to step out of our homes. We expect people to fear punishment, so we make rules and back them up with the power to punish. In general, we expect the world to be something, and we either behave accordingly or, in some cases, try to change the world to meet the expectations. But our expectations are one-sided terms of engagement, bound to be met with some disappointments, the frequency of which is dependent on how realistic the expectations were to begin with.

Expectations can be negative or positive. In either case if they are not realistic, they can lead to pain and anxiety for us. Unrealistic negative expectations lead to needless anxiety due to their very existence, while unrealistic positive expectations lead to such anxiety because of their non-fulfillment. The underlying problem is the same. Some are very basic expectations that may not be disappointed often, but others may have greater chances of being rejected (by nature or other humans). Thus, expectations can be a source of great pain and anxiety.

What does one do when met with repeated disappointment of expectations? Does one continue with the same expectations, and keep suffering? I don't think that is a good idea, because instead of leading to a fulfilling life, this approach could turn our disappointments into anger and other emotions whose manifestations can create trouble for ourselves and for others. We don't enjoy disappointments and these disappointments have a way of turning into emotional reactions.

So, we have to either let our expectations evolve to match the reality, or try and change the reality to match the expectations. Many of our expectations are rooted in an incomplete understanding of the 'otherness' of the other and our 'separation' from the nature, and an unwillingness to accept these basic aspects of existence. I have often found it disturbingly difficult to accept that there are forces at work that are completely indifferent to me and my desires and expectations, and that these forces have a right to be there. My own existence is just one of the forces constituting this world and though it has great potential to change the world, it also has its limits. Even if we can change the world around us, doing so just to fit our expectations can sometimes be very violent and unfair to the world around us. So, though there are many battles worth fighting to change the world, I think there are many occasions when one should just change one's assumptions about the world around, and adapt the expectations accordingly. Many of these occasions arise in our day-to-day interactions with people around us. For instance, if we continue to expect goodness and honesty everywhere, we will be tragic figures forever, eternally disappointed and ever so pained, or will create tragedy elsewhere, or both. But, the process of revisiting expectations is complicated by a few factors.

Firstly, to know and understand what are 'realistic' expectations is one of the greatest challenges for us. The world can present itself in fairly complex and perplexing ways, deceiving us into believing the unrealistic. I am yet to arrive at a general principle, except that one should try and keep one's expectations as low as possible, especially when the outcomes of our expectations are expected to have major effects on our mental and physical well-being i.e. if we are sensitive. In other words, playing safe may be a good thing. At the same time, we must do our best to improve things, so that the world presents some pleasant surprises to us.

Secondly, even if we do understand what are realistic expectations, to mold our inner selves to this new found understanding is an excruciatingly painful task. This pain may be somewhat mitigated by expectation of the fruitful end it might lead to, as Buddha said: Truth is bitter in the beginning, sweet in the end, and lie is sweet in the beginning, bitter in the end. But things are made worse by the seemingly perennial need to keep revising the expectations. So, thought it may seem that it would be an endless struggle, once we get used to this way of living, things should be easier.

Thirdly, there is no one 'self' in any situation. I constitute myself, as a composite of multiple selves all of which are interrelated and yet separated in the nuances of their self-definition. These selves can also be understood through the prism of identity. We invoke our multiple identities all the time, depending on the situation, what has happened recently, and how we feel due to our own inner reflection. My expectations from a fellow being are shaped by my multiple selves. Certain characteristics are underlying all these selves. Like, if we are very sensitive by nature, it would usually show in each one of our selves. For a man who cares too much for what he is working on, his expectation from others in the organisation may be higher.

Lastly, our expectations are shaped by, and may in turn shape who we think we are, and how we think we behave, basically our own self-image. If I think I am a pleasant person, I may usually expect pleasantness from others, mainly because I may feel it is my 'right' to get niceness, because of a tendency to see symmetry between actions and consequences. It is difficult to stay 'nice' when one expects the others not to be 'nice'. So, changing expectations may mean changing oneself. It could mean that there has been a change in our worldview, and it is bound to affect the way we treat the world. If we expect bitterness, it is it difficult to stay sweet for long. Should we try and be good without expecting goodness, be fair without expecting fairness? Research in game theory shows that in the long run, reciprocity and 'tit for tat' are the best (and most stable) strategies. But to me this is not always obvious Results from game theory notwithstanding, often it is not about what would make us 'win' against the others, but about what we should be doing, even though we may have low chances of winning through that route. Sometime even a loss in the conventional, worldly sense may be a great victory in the personal and spiritual sense. So, even though being gracious in face of arrogance may not be easy, we can make the choice because we believe that is the way we should be. As Gandhi said: Be the change you want to see in the world. I still want to examine this space further and find ways to retain the good things about my self, while toning down my expectations from the rest of the world. Still, one thing is clear: The world is what it is, but I have to decide who I want to be, what kind of life I want to live.

Letting hope float

There are times when we come across dubious actions, with little doubt about the act being unacceptable. These acts are what they are. They may arise from evil or from ignorance. In either case, the acts should be opposed. Still, more often than not, I have ended up taking things personally, getting stressed and disliking those who commit the acts. I now realise that this is counter-productive, both for our inner peace and also for mitigating the effect of such bad actions. We don't need to hate those who commit them, because then we will need to start by hating and tormenting ourselves, flawed as we are. But justice should happen, and it is our collective responsibility. There should be no time to hate, when we are pursuing the cause of justice. Hatred and animosity lead to a wastage of time and emotional energies, both of which could be productively channelised towards solving the real problems. We should have the spiritual maturity to not enter an endless process of interrogation and decimation of those around us. Of course justice should be meted out to the 'perpetrator' of the act, but this should be done with the understanding that the person is being punished for the choices s/he has made, and not for who s/he is. There is a difference here. This nuance of carefully separating doer from the act is possible if we are willing to believe in something that may appear to be counter-intuitive. As the African-American intellectual Cornel West says, it is crucial to have a belief in the humanity of the people who might be doing dehumanising things, even though the immediate evidence may lead to pessimism. Though, there may not be optimism, which is usually based on evidence from the immediate reality, but there can be hope, which is deeper and can be more stable. This hope comes from something more fundamental than the frustrations and disappointments from what we experience around us. Think about all the evil most societies have perpetrated at one time or another, and how they have managed to redeem themselves. The solution is not to annihilate the oppressors, be it the European colonists, or the neo-imperialists. Most of these societies have a basic humanity that could redeem itself, cleanse itself of the dehumanising elements that had invaded its own blood streams. This could be true at a micro level as well.

There is no point in demonising people or, worse, generalising criticisms by putting people in reductionist, essentialist categories or pigeonholes. What is required is to work towards what is right, what is just, by truly believing in the possibility of change, and by never giving up one's concern and love for those we are seeking to 'change'. This should be any reformer's aspiration, and I don't use the word 'reformer' in any grandiose sense, but for a more regular day-to-day mundane agenda for change. There is little value in being a short-term fighter, who is mainly trying to appease the ego, satisfy the urges, or express the anger for immediate relief, rather than intending to change things for the long run. Otherwise, essentially I would be making a mistake similar to the perpetrator of the act. A great deal of damage can be done by hating and preaching hatred, even if you are on the right side. Hatred as well as ignorant and unconsidered expressions of hatred could catapult me to the wrong side faster than we can imagine. It can make me the oppressor, the villain. Very often, the right and wrong sides are not divided by clear boundaries, and in fact they may be coinciding in the same group or even the same person. I need to understand that people can make choices, and they can also change their choices. I should have the courage to think critically about what needs to change and how, I should also have the courage to see what is good and love it. It is not about an immediate and absolute victory in the battles I fight, but about what kind of battles I want to choose. Particularly in these kind of battles, there is never ever any guarantee of victory in life. But, still it is important to fight some of these battles, without hatred or animosity. These choices determine who we are and who we want to be.

The curious case of examining one's own thoughts and conscience

In any examination of one's own thoughts and conscience, the self is the judge, the prosecutor, as well as the defendant. The self that presides over this 'juridical' process is the same as the self that prosecutes, and the self that is being accused and examined is also not different. This creates a curious kind of empathy among the involved parties. Unless checked by a sincere intention to use the trial to get to the 'truth', this empathy could result in an acquital of the self being examined. A lot of evil has its roots in this lack of critical examination of one's thoughts and conscience. One could even say that more often it is 'ignorance' rather than 'inherent viciousness' that causes evil actions, because self-awareness and sincere critical examination of one'e own thoughts (which significantly shape our actions) would certainly prevent us from doing many things we end up doing because of our ignorance about 'what is right'. So, this self-examination is important for us as individuals and as members of society.

Staying with the 'trial' analogy, what rules should guide such a trial? In my limited experience, if one is somewhat indepedent, this kind of trial may be quite oblivious to 'laws of the land', or even in contradiction to them. The true self-trial of our thoughts is done with rules that we really agree with. These are rules that are developed from our innate sense of right and wrong, as well as conditioning and self-reflection over a period of time. 'Reason' and 'compassion' are important tools in the definition of these ever-evolving rules. In fact, many a times, the act of the trial itself helps redefine these rules. The 'law' as such has limited role here. It is important to nuance this by saying that law is important for upholding the collectively defined sense of justice in a society, and should usually guide our actions. But, our thoughts should be independent, guided by our deep inner rules. Our sense of right and wrong may not match the law's sense of the same. So, if we see glaring gaps between law and reality, and in a manner that seems to be hurting the society, we must try and get the law itself changed, while trying not to break it. We may even need to break the law, but not for selfish interest, but for larger common good, as many have done. It is important to understand the legitimacy of the process by which law is defined. For instance, human freedom should not be made subservient to arbitrariness of a autocratic regime. Law loses its meaning in such a context.

Coming back to the question concerning examination of thoughts and conscience, if faults are found what should be the punishment of these faults? How should we approach this post-discovery phase? The natural empathy for oneself that may sometimes lead to a perverse acquittal of the defendant self is important here. It does help us live with ourselves, see our faces in the mirror everyday. So, the challenge is to try and treat the defendant self with as much objectivity as possible, while continuing a deeper empathy and an intention to understand and help. I think there should primarily be a renewal intentionality in this trial. The self that examines should do so to renew the self that is being examined, to make it better, to improve it. Having found faults, the idea should be to change one's thoughts in a manner that we think in the 'right' way from the next moment onwards, while acknowledging the impermanence of this definition of 'right'. The past is to be left unsaid, the guilt of the past thoughts to be overcome or overwritten by the fresh thoughts and actions. So, in some sense, the examining sense should be like a benevolent judge trying to 'help' the defendant self, more like a friend. The judge and prosecutor will gain if the guilty one improves, because they are it, and it is them.

This empathetic process of improvement still leaves space for repenting and apologising, which should be done, but only to the extent that our thoughts have created actions that have hurt others. Otherwise, just having thought something, which now appears 'bad' or 'wrong', shouldn't lead us to start and keep cursing ourselves. Suffering, in this case, doesn't necessarily lead to betterment. Rather, sincere understanding and acceptance of renewal is of key importance. There is no point in getting into the kind of self-criticism that borders on a destructive kind of masochism. It is more helpful to consciously focus on the evolution of our thoughts and conscience. We need to 'move on'.

spontaneous emotions, considered responses

I am sad. It is that intensely personal, sinking feeling that hurts in unusually deep and lonely ways. It is not a fleeting sensation. I am trying to fully understand the cause(s), and find ways to change the feeling, and be happy (or at least not be sad). I want to deal with the emotion directly, and not suppress it, ignore it, or drown it in liquor. There should be more direct and aware ways. I have come to believe that these ways reveal themselves after long, sincere self-reflection. I am young; recently started discovering some of these more 'mature' ways. Books have been of help but to a very limited extent. Some things don't occur to us till they actually occur with us. Reading Kafka and others at nineteen was interesting, but I understood them better when I went through certain things. The words that I read then have taken new meanings now. Conversations with wiser people are also good, but they can lead us to the pond, but not make us drink the water of wisdom. That choice is ours. Also, there are limitations that accompany being the other.

I am finding ways, but the search may never end. It would probably be an unending journey, ending with life itself. The idea is to keep going, and keep looking, while building on what has been found. This has to be done with the realisation that what I found yesterday may deserve discarding today. Though deeply unsettling, I feel this realisation, this creative destruction of sorts, is crucial if we want to gain wisdom.

An emotion is a deeply personal, subjective phenomenon, but its existence is universal. I feel what I feel, but many others have felt something similar at some point. That's what makes us all humans, sharing the very nature of our existence. Most of us find it difficult to deal with emotions, particularly when they come in a rapid gush. While dealing with them, it is important to see that there may be nothing inherently 'bad' in an emotion, because even the so-called 'negative' emotions help us identify and move away from hurtful states, or nuance our understanding of these states we are destined to be in, at least once in while. But some emotions can leave scars if they lead to destructive expressions, or if they affect us too much, destroying the harmony and balance in our lives. Also, for all emotions there are causes and consequences. Often, if we are not aware and careful, the consequences of emotions like anger can be disproportionate to their causes. To maintain balance and harmony in life, this sense of proportions should be maintained. How should we deal with these emotions?

I have found it useful to realise that no emotion stays in its original form for long. It transforms into other emotions and into emotional expressions. Depending on circumstances and how we deal with them, unrequited love often turns into sadness, which can transform into anger, which can motivate violent expression (towards oneself or others), leading to remorse and guilt, and it goes on. Emotions are like the magical entities that can take many forms. Understanding this non-rigid character of emotions gives us an opportunity to do something. I feel that it helps to acknowledge the emotion, understand its nature and cause, reflect on it in a considered manner, and find ways that help us not just to regain our inner peace and well-being, but also to gain new wisdom and fresh insights into life. I have tried some things.

Introducing humor to sadness and letting them be friends for a while. I have been surprised by finding how often they can get along well, if only for some time.

Suspending anger to give way to calm reflection, and then giving a measured response or if possible, forgiving and forgetting, and then enjoying the calm pleasures of restored inner peace.

Turning jealousy to thoughtful reflections on the nature of my expectations, the gaps in their fulfillment, the constructive ways to realise the expectations, the role of fate in what we and the others have and lack, the universality of human suffering, the ever-present possibility of pain hiding behind smiles, and also the right of others to live 'different' lives.

Responding to disappointment, frustration, and irritation by thinking about my place in a world with a billions stars, the workings of forces completely indifferent to my desires, the great potential and (still) the helplessness of human flesh, the location of my existence and my enterprise in the larger scheme of things, limitations of my plans and hopes, the need to discern between the co-existing meaningful and meaningless in life, and the nice and interesting joke this existence is.

Fears and anxieties have lately engendered a desire to discover their true causes and to become more aware of my past and more conscious of my present, to acknowledge and understand my desires, aspirations and concerns, so that I can carefully and permanently overcome some of my fears. Also, acknowledging that my fears, in their own ways, help reaffirm my humanity, and prevent me from going down the dangerous path of arrogant certitude.

Trying to resolve confusions by looking for deeper and wider knowledge and understanding of issues of concern with the hope that, with much labor and some luck, I will get clarity, while also acknowledging that I may not get all the answers, because some things may not be resolvable (or even knowable) due the inadequacy of my mind or the divergent nature of the answers, or both.

Letting the feeling of disgust or sense of outrage force me to take considered action to mitigate its causes.

In many of these, I haven't had much success in terms of bringing about a desired transformation in the emotion, but I am learning all the time, because I am aware and keen. I find new, more fruitful and direct ways of dealing with my emotions, and I learn more about myself. Each time I discover, to my disappointment, how little I really knew about myself. This disappointment is soon overwhelmed by the joy of enhanced self-awareness. Then my mind feels like dancing with abandon.

But right now, I am sad.

The Ways of Power

Power is something we have to deal with on a regular basis, in almost all our interactions. When we work in organisations, the awareness of power is very real, strong and intense. I have had to deal with it and in it in many ways, both as a subject and an object. The idea of Power is of great interest and relevance to the understanding of the human condition and social systems. Power manifests at the level of the broad social systems and is exercised more locally and regularly between people. What is the nature of the power relationships and strategies that most people try to play out and implement all the time? How, or through what mechanisms, does 'power' shape the ongoing relationships among us? How are the sources and expressions of power changing?

A key aspect of power is the way it is exerted. Power is exerted implicitly by the way in which our conversation (or discourse) is formed (Foucault's analysis), and it is often exerted by denying its own truth, or by myths that misrepresent the source of power by pointing to the so-called 'systemic' or 'natural' sources which are actually less powerful in that context. Power thrives on pretension of non-existence or innocence, continuously pointing at or deriving legitimacy from the larger forces or the ways of the world, always hiding its own implicit choice, its will to control. It always sets up systems and processes that facilitate its manifestations, while making itself invisible. There is power that depends heavily on certain exclusive, elitist symbols and spaces, like the illusions, which for centuries were staged by the royal entourage, the emperor's clothes, crown, and jewels; his mystical significance. Though some people still keep the illusions in place, and even approve of them, the overall trend is changing.

Now there are more of the sneaky forms of power that avoid special symbols or spaces, to stay consistent with today's so-called 'liberated', democratic', ideals that put a premium on being 'one of us' or 'with us'. Even the monarchs can't display their hubris in the same way as they did once upon a time. The same holds true for others in power, the executives, the teachers, the husbands, the political leaders, and all of us. Pretending to be powerless helps the agenda of power, again by making it less visible, by creating and spreading myths of the 'equal', the 'similar', or the 'friendly' power. The staging of power is undergoing a change. The 'divine' connection doesn't help now as much as it helped the Pharaohs and other such 'God-incarnates', and it is difficult to convince people of it, thanks to the ascent of science, which might not have completely defeated religion, but has almost decidedly de-linked the human from the almighty, forever reducing the possibility of a human getting away with the claim to divinity. Behavioral symbols are becoming more important. Fear as a source of power continues to hold sway, but fading continuously. The smiling candidate is better than a brooding one. A CEO who eats with the employees is more acceptable. This imagery thrives on the indifference of the masses to the details of the manifestations of power. Even in earlier times, a friendly, generous monarch was more popular, but didn't necessarily derive his/her powers from this attribute. These attributes didn't shift the power away from or to someone, because the source of power was elsewhere.

The chameleon-like change in the symbols is enabled by knowledge. Power is strengthened by knowledge of how people react and how their behavior can be affected. This knowledge helps Power thrive by providing favors or helping the objects of power, or making them feel powerful by allowing limited or fake participation (co-opting). These mechanisms (or presentations) of power help sustain it. The understanding of how people react and behave also enables power to create obligations that are relayed through so many different points and become so deeply ingrained in us, that we no longer perceive them as the effect of a power that constrains us, but instead it seems to us that these obligations were always lodged in our most secret nature, only to surface.

Power is also fueled by some resistance and without resistance, all power fades or collapses under its own weight, because it usually exists against something. Still, the resistance cannot be allowed to overrun power, and power tries to diffuse resistance if it becomes too threatening, again by trying to hide, usually behind the cloak of 'reason'. The sources of tense resistance are eliminated or sidelined by citing reasons that relate to the entity's behavior or competence, presenting them as threats to efficiency, effectiveness or even existence of the system or order that the power is presumably protecting, and never talking about their posture against power itself. This is another change in staging. You (and the spectators) may be told you are being destroyed for being a threat to world peace, while all you would have done is speak truth to power. Though, power still makes 'examples' of its opponents, it does so with less pomp, show, and noise, since the sustainability of this approach is becoming more and more difficult. It attempts to explain its actions by playing to people's fears and hopes. Thus, naked, raw, visible power is increasingly getting replaced by a clothed, sophisticated, almost invisible one, but we need to examine if there has been any fundamental shift in the nature of power itself, or in the way it affects and corrupts individuals. That's another question and analysis.

Life and Stories

Recalling to tell is an exercise in excerpting at two levels, one due to memory's limited ability to reveal details of the past voluntarily, and the other due to the limitations of language and the tendency to tell things in a manner that they sound linear and clear, almost like those stories we read in books, preferably presenting ourselves as heroes. This violence of excerpting leaves the recounting significantly removed from the 'reality'. Actually in life things don't happen in a story-like manner. Things and people come in and go out. It continues as time flows like a river that carries many moments, while drowning some. There are no beginnings. Time goes on without any specific pattern or reason, an interminable iteration. There are bends and falls, but at a deeper level, there is monotony (which gives a certain stability to being). In this flow, from time to time, we take stock, we say: I've been traveling and working for three years, I've been in Chennai for six months. Neither is there any end: you never leave a person or place in one go. They live, they persist in the minds. Even the dead live, coexisting with the living in the depths of our minds. This absence of neat separateness and linearity in life's ways creates differences between what was and what is remembered and told. Everything changes when we think and tell about life.

Trying to go back to the time and space that were, our memory reveals bits and pieces, with many elements and details left out due to time's constant effect on memory's resources, and some blocked out by the subconscious, perhaps due to some emotional links or other reasons. Our present perspectives also shape what we recall from the past, with an inherent value judgment. We all have occasions when we have looked back and things appeared different from how we perceived them originally. The recalled bits and pieces have to be narrated in words that are limited by our language and the practice of structuring the 'story', situated in the context of the present, and our current 'construction' of our self. The self that was is not the self that is. Even the self that recalls is not the self that tells, since recalling is a personal exercise, while telling is essentially extra-personal. Things happen in one way, we recall in another way, we tell them in another way. To illustrate, let me undertake such an exercise.

I am going back to a time my memory vaguely allows me to reconstruct, and a place that was nothing like this one. This is a big, grey city, a concrete congregation inhabited by humans on the move. That was a small, green town, and within it a large, sparsely populated settlement belonging to people who shared one common identity - the main bread winner (usually a male) working for a large enterprise. Mostly middle and upper middle class, the inhabitants of this place were kind of isolated from the world around. The place they were living in was like a reclusive monarch's expansive estate, but in this situation there were hundreds of kings, queens, princes and princesses enjoying the pleasure and privileges of the estate, and also the accompanying sense of non-belonging to the outside world. I was a child then, all of ten years old. I was the little prince, who in company of other princes, toured around his father's fort, in all the pride and glory, and fun. I had many friends, but three of them were my 'best' friends. We did everything together, and I mean everything.............

My recall has certain elements like 'isolation and detachment', 'friendship', 'fun and privileges of childhood'. Though important, were these the only key elements of that life and time? Perhaps, some of them might not have appeared important when I was in that reality. Also, memory has helped me construct a picture consisting of pieces that represent the time and space in a manner that is, to put it vaguely, 'romanticised', a tendency that often (but not always) accompanies a thought of the past. The entire 'good old times' construct has its roots here. The practice of language and structuring of the 'story' further affect the 'quality' of the picture. We can recall some elements, and of course the telling or the description is such that the 'other' can't smell it.

This is important because we look at our today in the light of our yesterday, and vice versa. Ours is a constant struggle for self-betterment and improvement over the past, to take 'care' of ourselves. So, it helps to know the nature of the link between the time now and the past, the quality of a weigh-scale we use. It influences our perspective of life, our view about change, our comfort with the present self. Also, in our social interactions, the way the past is discussed and described is important. There is perhaps a possibility of being deliberate with memory and language, but only to a limited extent. Then there are boundaries, at least those inherent in the language.

Scientific truth and multiplicity of ideas in life

I remember the time when as a child I used to spend hours staring at the sky, particularly enjoying those stargazing moments during late evenings with a clear sky and good breeze. The sky was like a painting for me, a large work of art suspended above the earth by someone big enough to do that. The painting was made richer by the stories about its constituents, like the woman sitting on the moon weaving clothes for us to wear. (If you look closely, with assumed ignorance, you will see a vague shape formed by moon's spots). There was great beauty and wonder in those images, a sense of being a part of a larger world that could be explained by interesting stories that somehow seemed to connect every entity with every other entity in some way or the other. Then I grew up. I learned more about the 'sky' I was seeing at night, and what formed it. I learned more about the stars and the moon. I was told, to my utter dismay, that sun is just a stupid big ball of hot gas, and not a wise God riding a chariot with seven horses. There was disappointment, but I was too busy studying and playing to reflect on what I had lost, or to truly appreciate what I had gained. At some level I did feel a loss, but couldn't identify its true nature. I had unknowingly made a trade-off of sorts.

In this sense, not too long ago all humans were like my child self. They had stories about the world, because they didn't have the kind of knowledge we now have. They were ignorant of the scientific interpretation of their reality. Then Science happened, not as a sudden event but as an evolutionary process catalysed by some triumphs or revolutions. These days the judgment of the scientist is received with the same reverence as the judgment of priests, witch doctors and tribal leaders was accepted not too long ago. This move towards 'demythologisation' was largely motivated by the wish to avoid any clash between religion and scientific ideas. If such a clash occurs, then science was certainly right and religion wrong. Science has that privileged, centred position that marginalises all else that may come in the way, religion, myths, everything.

Science and the scientific truth dominate. The education system just indoctrinates us into a given 'scientific truth', which is the unquestionable absolute. It neither encourages imagination to run nor does it make a serious attempt to waken the critical abilities to see things in perspective. Though we have to acknowledge that science has found some truth that we weren't aware of earlier, this 'truth' has taken a disproportionately prominent position in our lives and our social systems. Though intended to be an instrument of change and liberation, it has become so rigid that it is oppressive, almost as oppressive as the ideologies it had once to fight.

"Truth" appears to be a neutral word, and in many ways it is. Nobody would deny that it is commendable to speak the truth, but we must be aware of the implications of always measuring ourselves against a single, absolute standard like this. Must we always follow only the scientific truth? Must it be the only standard? The argument that rigidity of science is 'natural' and there is no choice in it needs to be examined carefully. It is crucial to acknowledge that human life is guided by many ideas and ideals. Truth is just one of them. Freedom, beauty, imagination, emotional and spiritual fulfillment are some of the others. Some of these may be better at providing that crucial nourishment that goes into fulfilling our existence. Just finding the 'truth' is important, but not necessarily fulfilling, and fulfillment is crucial life. We must appreciate that if truth, as conceived by some, conflicts with our sense of spiritual fulfillment, then we do have a choice. We may abandon this sense of spiritual fulfillment, or we may abandon truth, or we may adopt a more sophisticated idea of truth that doesn't contradict spiritual fulfillment. The way modern science manifests through its socio-cultural and economic vehicles, it inhibits such freedom of thought and choice. It must proselytize the child (and his grandma) who believe in the lady on the moon, no matter how harmless that imagination may be, and do so with such efficient permanence that such imagination would never dare raise its head again.

I am not trying to romanticise the primitive, but attempting to carefully acknowledge the limits of the role of scientific truth in our lives, and to boldly place this truth alongside other important ideas and aspects of life, some of which it may be at odds with.

Life, thus death? Pleaure, thus suffering?

A person I was acquainted with died yesterday. We were at college together, but he was older than me by a few years. He was married, with two young children. Coming from lower middle class roots, he had carved a reasonably comfortable life for himself and his family. Though we had not been in touch over the last two years, I remember him as a jovial, kind and generous man, unpretentious.and simple in his ways. He was flawed, like all of us, but he was neither unaware nor very uneasy about his simple flaws. He never seemed to aspire for perfection or some towering moral standards; he was just happy being good enough. He was not trying to change the world; he was just happy raising his family. He was, in most ways, a normal man. One could say he deserved a normal life, and a normal death. His death was anything but normal. He perished in a road accident, while on a regular bike journey back from a nearby town. Death came to him, unannounced, unexpected, not like insistent humming in the background but like a leaping tiger. I don't know how to react to such instances, what to think, how to interpret, if at all. The arbitrariness is overwhelming. Our desire for and expectation of order, linearity and predictability is eternally disappointed by the ruthless randomness of reality. If death was the price of life, a payment that must be made after one has gone through a full experience, it would have made some sense. But, what about this arbitrary demise? Death is natural, necessary and universal, but when it happens arbitrarily, it deserves to be questioned. The problem is with the seemingly random and untimely death, the fundamental ineluctability about such a fate, and the suffering it entails for the living.

Death itself is nothing. A great deal of suffering originates from the fear of death for ourselves and for our loved ones, and from the death of our loved ones. Basically, it's random, untimely death, and unexplainable suffering for us the living that has puzzled me most. Suffering is for all of us, with some getting disproportionately high shares, for reasons that are hard to understand. The question is: Why suffering? Some religions link this suffering to our deeds, proposing a causality between our choices, our actions and our well-being. This link justifies some suffering, but doesn't seem to hold when we see a child born with a disorder, suffering throughout his life of 7-8 years, and dying in pain, probably never having stepped out of his bed. Did he actually live? I don't know, may be he did see some pleasures of life, but I feel this is still unfair, and the child couldn't have done anything to deserve the pain that governed much of his life. So some religions, like mine, argue about multiple lives and having to expiate for sins of past life, soul being eternal and body being like a cloth, which can be and is changed when we die and proceed to the next life. Though this argument helps explain something, it is not comforting in any way. What is the point of me expiating for the crimes I don't remember I committed? This is a Kafkaesque nightmare that doesn't seem to lead to any meaningful remorse that could have been possible if one were aware of the true reasons for one's sufferings and had a sense of responsibility towards them.

I struggle with these questions, but now with little hope of finding satisfactory answers in religion. I am reminded of what Camus wrote in The Plague: "Since the order of world is regulated by death, perhaps it is better for God we do not believe in him and we fight with all our might against death, without raising our eyes heavenward where he keeps silent.". Perhaps we could expand the statement by considering 'suffering' alongside 'death', to define what regulates us and what we need to put up a million fights against, together as humans. We couldn't do anything to prevent the death of our friend, but perhaps we could do something to alleviate the suffering of his family, and work in our own humble ways to prevent more people from dying like this. Though the answer to the question of causation behind such random death and suffering can't be found easily, we can still find some hope and solace in our efforts to alleviate pain and suffering for the living, and in our endless fight against untimely death for anybody. Perhaps humanness is our only salvation and our only hope, no matter how naive this hope and how modest and easily destructible the results of our efforts may be.

Writing in turmoil

Certain kind of literature can only be a result of turmoil, internal, external, or both. More often than not this is the kind of literature that touches us, because it shows us the mirror that we had never seen before, it makes us see aspects of ourselves that we never thought existed, and also, sometimes it makes us realise the nature of the human flesh that we didn't want to see before, in all its limits, its helplessness, and its possibilities. To live is to realise, to realise all that we hadn't till the moment before. If a written word can help us realise and discern what is meaningful and profound, and what is meaningless and trivial, and the entire ocean of life that lies between these extremes, then that is good literature, though it may not be the only good literature. Still, I must say I haven't come across any other type of all literature I would care to call 'good'.

Looking at this issue from the point of view of the writer, is writing an act that can be performed satisfactorily without some motivation? There three aspects of the answer to this. Firstly, I don't think serious writing can be done without some motivation. Lack of motivation may be a greater problem than the lack of skill of the writer. There may not be any basic skill of a writer as testfied by the fact that there are all kinds of writers who have done well and been liked. Secondly, there is also an importance of sustained motivation. Writing without sustained motivation would be like trying to fly without proper wings; one can stay in the air for some time, but bound to come down and feel miserable (I know that feeling in my own humble way). Lastly, since the written word has a sense of permanence about it, writing is a bold act, and therefore the act of writing is also an expression of faith in the possibility of the risk (that could come with this permanence) being worthwhile, because of a hope of succeeding in making others understand what is behind the words, the hope of truly connecting with the other. For such a bold act of serious and long writing (and not a blurb like this one) what could be the motivation, if not to change something. Is there a sense in writing if it is totally purposeless? What is the use of such writing, if there is not a will to change something in the minds of the readers, and through them the minds of the Gods? I think this will to change must significantly drive the motivation of a writer of good literature. It may just be so that such a will to change is usually situated in a turmoil that creates churning of the kind that urges one to sit down and write, or stand up and do something else about it. This probably offers a partial explanation for why so much good literature has come out of troubled societies and beings.

Plato's dialogues, history's judgments, and law

Plato's Dialogues, which are supposedly documentations of Socratic conversations, constitute some of the most interesting and richest works of ancient philosophy. They are multi-layered, profound and are truly expansive in their dealing with important questions of life and society. They dwell on the problem of knowledge, the problem of conduct and also that of governance. I have continued to go back to them once in every few months since I first read them about four years ago. Though they, like some other works of Greek philosophy, have received much criticism and revision in the last two millenniums, there is still something endearing about them. May be it is the simplicity and approachability of the dialogical form, or perhaps the universality and humanness of the themes pursued. They were probably situated in the context of an Athens that had just lost a long war against the Spartans. They were the dialogues of someone from the losing side. This, some believe, could be at the roots of many of the 'less acceptable' ideas from Greek philosophy, particularly some of Plato's political ideas. For example, the Spartans raised their children in pretty much a regimented way. Socrates (and therefore, Plato) espouses such an idea, and even goes on to articulate the concept of 'philosopher kings', who are the chosen ones deserving to rule (Perhaps that's why Russel called The Republic a fascist agenda book). Though we may not want to defend such ideas, we must understand that there is always a good chance that history might see us in a negative light, name our age the 'dark age', call us names like 'the barbarian', or if we are somewhat fortunate, just completely ignore us. In my mind, there is always an element of doubt about these judgments by history, because of, what I think, is the nature of life as a series of ill-structured problems that require heuristic solutions, some of which may not look good on hindsight. This, of course, doesn't completely justify actions, but does call for a closer look at the motivations and compulsions that might have shaped ideas and driven decisions, if not to be fair to the dead, at least to be wiser for the future. We must dig below the surface of the conclusions passed on to us.

Many of the ideas in the dialogues are worth reflecting on. One of the strongest and most haunting episodes in the dialogues concerns the death penalty given to Socrates. Socrates is given a choice: Give himself Hemlock, or accept ostracism and exile himself from Athens. Friends suggest that since the charges are anyway made up, he should just leave and come back later. But, he doesn’t pay heed, because he realizes and reasons that the rule of law is the public expression of human rationality itself. It is the one way the rational power of the corruptible man gets itself expressed in such a way as to minimize the degree of self-corruption. Aristotle also espouses a similar idea when he writes : Law is reason without passion. It doesn’t seek to benefit someone in particular. It is disinterested that way. This is a very important thought. Many of us (including me for sure) are tempted to break the laws that don't make sense to us, or are just plain inconvenient. Imagine what would become of the society if everyone were to start breaking laws like this. There would probably be complete anarchy, of the decadent type, and life would be, in Hobbes's seemingly pessimistic words, “nasty, brutish and short”. To invoke Kant's idea of a categorical imperative: Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law. Socrates says that he has devoted his entire life to the cause of reason. Now, just because his situation is compromised, he wouldn't give up everything and turn around. It would mean that his life amounts to nothing. He drinks the hemlock. Absolutist and crazy? May be. Stupid or wrong? I don't think so.

The Experientialists

I got hold of a colleague's iPhone today, and played around with it for a while. The thing appeals in interesting ways. It looks trendy, has got a good feel, and lets one control it completely with amusing ease. These features can be be seen in many successful 'toys' available these days. These things appeal to us, entice us, make us desire them, mainly by appealing to our senses, and we follow them, almost with hypnotic devotion.

I feel that knowingly or otherwise, many of us are experientialists, believing and valuing what we see and sense (through the five senses) and only believing and valuing what we see or sense. The problem with being an experientialist has less to do with the former than with the latter. Suppose we, for once, start trusting our senses entirely. Now, this in itself doesn’t mean that we believe and value only what we get through our senses. This is like being a child who believes and values what his father says, but nothing else. In spite of the limitations and vulnerabilities of believing in his father, he may innocently believe in what his father says. This may be acceptable, with a hope that he would understand the limitations of his father with time. But it is not the same if the child believes and value only what his father says, because that way he would never be able to find the truth, the truth about the limitations of his father.

If we believe only in our senses, and nothing else, we become what are senses make us. Our eyes and ears may never pick up the real truth, beyond the obviously sensed immediate truth. So we essentially bump from one wall to the other, and regard such contact as the only real contact possible in the world; thus missing certain important aspects of life. This is something that probably lies at the root of the consumerist, materialistic pursuits that prominently characterise contemporary motivations. This is some kind of a self-victimization.

I think it helps to acknowledge the limitations of our senses and the limited value of sensory experiences in our life in general and in the pursuit of meaning in particular. There is a significant space that lies within, waiting for us to acknowledge its existence, reflect on ourselves and the way we are and could be. Thinking, feeling, being are as important, if not more important, than catering to our senses and their essentially repetitive pursuits.

Another way of looking at this is the Kantian perspectice. Examining the problem of being an 'experientialist' from the perspective of critiquing the empiricist dominance, Kant puts forth the idea of a priori (prior to our experience). He writes that some of the concepts which we apply to our present experiences come from our past experiences, but some of the most important other concepts precede experience. What we experience is systematized and organized with our programmed intuitions and categories which make sense of it all, even if we come across them for the first time. This, in itself, is not a case against the validity of the senses, but it does bring into light something that is beyond or prior to the sensual perceptions, something a pure experientialist probably doesn’t appreciate much. Probably some roots of our moral judgments reside here, and we could understand them better if we reach deep inside ourselves, to the self that gets continuosly neglected when we are busy playing to the desires of our senses.

Balancing the self and the other

An important and sometimes troubling thing for me has been a basic need for belongingness that in some way is fundamental to the human condition. This need, when left unmet or inadequately met, leads to the miserable feeling of being out of place. This need for belongingness is what generates the need to measure up to the standards of the immediate surroundings, and also the anguish that a failure to do so leads to. The opposite of this are the pleasures and advantages of being alone, the opportunity to reflect and truly know oneself, and measure oneself against standards set by self. The question then is: How does one manage these two seemingly contradictory needs of human existence? I guess we must appreciate that these may not be contradictory, but instead they could complement each other. It would take great skill and wisdom to carry standards of different nature and manner continuously in one's mind, such that they reflect a healthy balance of external and internal standards. The key, I think, is to have a strong sense of centre, while intermittently enjoying and entertaining the sense of belonging to communities and collectives (defined by any of the identities we carry), and the sense of loneliness, in some sort of a musical repetition or a wave pattern. This way we could enjoy the privileges of both by treating them as two sides of the same coin of life that, in a way, complement and complete each other to create harmony in life. Though I feel true happiness comes from such balance, rhythm and harmony in every aspect of our life, finding a such balance is not easy. Each one of us has to find his/her own ways of achieving this balance. One thing is clear, we usually do not have the luxury of stopping to find the best balance. We have to find our answers as we move. Life, as Einstein said, is like a bicycle; to keep the balance, we need to keep moving.

Caves and Chains

Artistic expressions, while appealing to our aesthetic sense, also influence our epistemic and ethical frames and views. They have the potential of triggering or catalysing thoughts that shape us. The Matrix was a movie that has become a part of cinema history as a cult work in its genre. It was fun but it also explored some deep ideas with amazing profundity, subtlety and style. The ideas have parallels in some philosophical works. The most widely discussed are the parallels between The Matrix and “parable of the cave” in Plato's The Republic.

In The Republic, during a dialogue with Glaucon, Socrates talks about an imaginary cave wherein people are chained in such a way that they can see only a wall on which shadows are being projected by someone. They can’t see anything beyond that wall and they don’t understand anything beyond what they see. They have no standards superior to or exterior to their own mere visual experiences. This existence depends entirely on the immediate sensory perceptions and is thus exposed to the vulnerabilities and limitations of the senses. The plugged-in people lead a similar existence in the programmed dream world created by the machines in The Matrix. In a way, probably the shackles represent our senses and our societal bounding, which don’t let us rise above the planes and pains of materiality.

In The Matrix, there is a sequence where Neo is released from his programmed dream world and faces the truth. A similar point of salience occurs in the parable as well, but it is about the first man who comes out. It so happens that one day a man is able to get rid of the chains, walk out of the cave and sees the world outside. He has a hard time believing what he sees, but he comes to believe it. Back in the cave, other people are busy conferring honors among themselves on those who were the quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future. The man who walked out wouldn’t care for such honors and glories, or envy the possessors of them. He would choose to endure anything, rather than live as the people in the cave. Now, imagine if such a man was to go back to the cave (or The Matrix) and tell other people about what he has seen.

Coming back into the cave, his eyes would not be easily accustomed to the darkness (i.e. ignorance) in the cave and thus, his eyes would not become steady for some time. This would make him appear ridiculous or inferior to those who have their eyes accustomed to the darkness. In fact, people may even think of him as a lunatic; and if he tries to lead others into the same light, they could even go to the extent of trying to catch and punish him. Thus, this man is likely to meet with disbelief, ridicule and/or hate at the hands of the people living in the darkness of the cave, the people he seeks to help. Even if he is able to lead one of the chained men into light, he may not be able to convince them to choose the light of the real world over the darkness of the cave. Some, like Cypher, may still prefer the convenience of darkness to the inconvenience of light. Even Neo resists the reality.

Neo’s immediate response is predictable. People's fear of what they don’t understand takes many forms, like disbelief, ridicule, hatred, or blind faith. But, Neo accepts the truth. In The Republic, Socrates says that bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes: either from coming out of the light or from going into the light. This is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye. A person who knows the possibility of the existence of both the bewilderments, on seeing any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will first enquire about its cause. Neo displays the ability to tell the difference between the bewilderments and he has the wisdom that results from such ability and its use. He, like any sincere skeptic, looks for some evidence before he believes.

Cypher's choice of convenience of a slave over the hardships of freedom is not unusual. For many people, nothing matters except how good their lives feel through their senses. Freedom is difficult to deal with, a human condition that manifests in many ways, like subservience to totalitarianism, blind faith in religion, and so on. How to deal with true freedom? I don't know. It’s anyway not important to get answers immediately, let alone the right answers. It’s important to raise questions, the right kind of questions, and live with them till the answers reveal themselves.

Shakespeare's Women

Reading can sometimes help us concretize a thought lingering at the back of our mind, in a way helping us give a body of words to the soul of a feeling. Something similar happened with me today (Aha!). Well, the matter is regarding Shakespeare and Women. I am not referring to a potential historical controversy about the Bard's personal liaisons (i leave that to Hollywood's creativity), but to the female characters he created in his plays. What is it about Shakespeare's female characters that makes them so darn endearing? Well, a brief paragraph by Bernard Shaw, quoted in Harold Bloom's book on Shakespeare, is a spot on explanation of the phenomenon, which almost borders on the mysterious. Though probably rooted in our need for conformation, there is indeed a sweet, almost unusual, pleasure in realising that one's thoughts coincide with those of an authority on the matter, which they somewhat do, in this case with the bearded genius: “The popularity of Rosalind (As You Like It) is because of three main causes: First, she only speaks blank verse for a few minutes. Second, she only wears a skirt for a few minutes (and the dismal effect of the change at the end to the wedding dress ought to convert the stupidest champion of petticoats to rational dress). Third, she makes love to the man, instead of waiting for the man to make love to her – a piece of natural history that has kept Shakespeare's heroines alive, while generations of properly governessed ladies taught to say “No” three times at least, have miserably perished.” Slam Dunk!