Tag: hypocrisy

  • Self-serving Subservience 

    There’s a natural assumption that suggests that those that serve others are selfless in their intentions. It’s not an unfair assumption either, because the visible actions of people lead us to judge the way we wish we would be judged under similar circumstances. It’s that age old wisdom of seeing our faults in others. But age old wisdom is not always true. Sometimes, pervasive ignorance can easily be mistaken for collective wisdom.

    Selfless, as a concept, I find to be highly problematic. The hidden motivations of what we want to feel or gain hardly ever makes a selfless endeavour a truly selfless one. However, in the absence of a more noble approach to life, I guess we should be grateful for the fact that the selfish needs we have to feel good, benevolent, or appreciated, results in good for others. Personally, that is as close to selfless as I am willing to assume anyone is capable of being.

    But there is a more sinister seeming selflessness that contaminates rather than enriches the lives of others, including the life of the one that is subservient. To live a life focused on serving others is only meritorious if that is grounded in a conviction of upliftment. It is not so commendable when we find that it is the result of a deep self-loathing. So deep is such self-rejection that we define our worth by the acceptance of our contribution to others. Those that find themselves lacking in their personal space find it easier to sacrifice their own needs in favour of acceptance or validation by those around them.

    I’ve had many relationships, or more accurately, feigned friendships dissolve into nothing the moment my demands of them to be true to their convictions surpassed their belief in themselves. Holding on to the demons of the past that so effectively defined their space in society created a comfort zone that almost cast their self-image in stone. Shattering that image threatened to shatter their being, and thus it became easier for them to surrender the friendship, rather than to surrender the weakness they had no reason to believe they were capable of overcoming.

    Success, within this context, can be paralytic. It’s like the intense fear we feel when our lives are threatened, and we find ourselves caught between helplessness and wanting to flee, but knowing that neither state is helpful, so we remain paralysed with fear wishing away the circumstance until it eventually passes. When it finally does pass, we convince ourselves that prayers made it so, because that’s the only remnant of dignity we have to hold on to in the face of our impotence in that moment. There are many whose perpetual state is reflected in this way.

    Pandering to authority because that is where we believe our next paycheck comes from erodes our dignity more than anything else. Collective subservience like this is commonplace. People that pretend that it’s perfectly acceptable to have one moral code in their personal space and different moral code in their public space will rarely amount to anything more than a placeholder in people’s lives. Pawns are the sacrificial lambs needed to achieve someone else’s goals. Strangely though, pawns used in such a fashion feel proud to have been used in a such a way, while the reality of being used completely escapes them.

    Not every servant is dedicating their life to servitude. Many of them simply do not have the courage to believe that they have more value to offer this world than to simply serve the whims and dictates of others. Demand that they own their lives and you’ll see a viciousness in them that you never thought possible from a placid servant. Fear yields the fiercest cowards in all of us. We’re selective about when we expose that rage, because it only ever makes sense to expose it to those that we despise or consider to be equal to or lower than ourselves, but rarely (if ever) will we expose such rage to the ones we worship for vaildation or acceptance.

    Self-serving subservience is destructive to the human spirit because it creates comfort for the cowards when such subservience is celebrated as humility or servitude to others. Worse still, it becomes ever more toxic when classes of superiority are defined through subscription to these ranks, resulting in society believing the victim to be oppressed, and the one with conviction to be the oppressor.

    Reality is a twisted view of a wholesome life. Somewhere in there lies the secret to sanity.

  • The Best In Me

    I’ve found, and recent experiences have confirmed this to be true as well, that in order to see the true nature of someone, you should demand the best from them. Demand that they be all that you know they have the capacity to be, and you’ll see the conviction or betrayal rise to the surface, often viciously so.

    I’ve been quite distracted recently. That distraction has in many ways confirmed why I sway between wanting to share my thoughts, or write that book, and not wanting to have any part in interacting with people at all. I quietly observe the hypocrisy of so many that polarise towards those that pacify them about their shortcomings, their bad decisions, or their half-hearted efforts to live life while waiting for someone else to come along and contribute the other half. They do this under the guise of compassion and understanding. Both, the pacifier and the pacified. The dishonesty of it all leaves a distinctly bitter after-taste almost literally in my mouth.

    I’ve always found it to be insincere on my part if I agreed with someone that was looking for affirmation about doing something that was either denying them or someone else of a right or benefit that they were capable of providing. It’s as if we live life assuming everything to be optional first, and then only define what is compulsory or obligatory on our part relative to what we believe is a reasonable expectation that others are allowed to have of us. This also implies that we view ourselves through the same tainted lenses. In other words, rights are not rights until we agree that it is so, and then also, only if there is a reciprocal arrangement in place. What’s in it for me has become the mantra of the selfish and the weak.

    Yet the world apparently thrives on it. Far too often I listen to people repeating leadership advice that says that to be influential you must be sure to emphasise what is in it for your target audience otherwise your chances of soliciting their buy-in is significantly reduced. While that may be the reality of it, it also suggests that you become complicit in the cycle of selfishness. I’m obstinate enough to believe that shared convictions are more important than what’s in it for me as a collective perspective. I guess you could also argue that the fact that something is achieved implies that there was conviction behind it to begin with. While that may be true, it doesn’t necessarily imply that such conviction was well-placed.

    If my conviction is focused on self-preservation or self-promotion, then I would act with a conviction that inadvertently erodes the wholesomeness of the society that I belong to. When that selfishness comes full circle and I become a means to an end for someone else from that same societal structure, I complain bitterly about the decay of humanity, forgetting too easily how it is that the same impact I imposed on others left them feeling equally defeated. It seems that such bitter pills are what prompts many to consider the impact that they have on others, because it’s only in moments of defeat or humiliation that we are forced to recognise our weaknesses. Unless you’re so bitter about life that your fixation on the betrayals of others prevents you from seeing your contribution to your current state. Such bitterness always ends in a diseased body and mind, which leads to an untimely and often very unpleasant demise.

    Obstinacy with conviction is what is lacking in this world. I would much rather be surrounded by those that disagree with me because of a genuine sense of conviction in what they hold to be true, rather than to be surrounded by people that agree with me because their affiliation with me benefits their own selfish purposes. I can barely recall anyone demanding me to be more than I am because they saw potential or capability in me that I did not recognise in myself. Fortunately I’ve had little reason to wait for such encouragement although I did find myself wasting a lot of life waiting for others to  catch up. In a way, that has been the most wasteful approach of my life.

    Waiting for others to believe in you implies that you lack conviction in what you see in yourself. While there is merit in testing the veracity of your assumptions and perspectives by sounding it against others, if we’re not careful about what we’re testing for, there’s a good chance that we’ll abandon something valuable because we were looking for the wrong response. Too many test for acceptance rather than soundness of purpose or conviction. We present ideas that have merit to small minds and then abandon those ideas because the value of it was not grasped. We shouldn’t be testing for acceptance or popularity. That is exactly what got this world into the state it is in. As clichéd as it sounds, being part of the crowd only ever maintained the status quo. It’s the individual, the maverick, the relentless pain-in-the-butt that spurs growth, and by implication, growth implies discomfort.

    We need to learn to be comfortable in growth. The only hindrance I can think of that prevents such comfort is the fear of failure. The fear of appearing incompetent in a new setting. That fear is grounded in our belief that others are always competent in what they appear to be doing, but often discover that they were not as competent as we assumed when we engage and apply our minds to the new reality that we were avoiding. It also implies that we assume we’re incompetent by default and therefore incapable of learning, until we find reason to believe that we have sufficient skill or knowledge to start exploring with a fair amount of confidence. Unfortunately we rarely start exploring because we’re waiting for that minimum amount of skill or knowledge to magically appear first, or for someone to believe in us before we try.

    The best of me always manifested in times of trial and intense betrayal when my crutches were snapped away, or my comforts were destroyed. Familiarity often appeared as healthy surrounds, but I only realized how unhealthy it was when I was forced to step outside of those familiar boundaries and became a spectator of my own life. It’s only when we achieve such perspective that we are faced with the daunting choice of whether to prevail, or to succumb. Beyond all this the greatest challenge I continue to face in my life is finding the balance between forging ahead in spite of the lack of conviction from others in what I am passionate about, while simultaneously avoiding the severing of ties. Forging ahead demands conviction and purposeful introspection to guide me, while maintaining ties prevents me from being reckless or ungrateful about the benefit and rights I share with those around me.

    Life is easier if lived in isolation, but it’s less fulfilling. It becomes an incomplete cycle because I believe that our innate nature drives us towards improving the lot of others. The more inclined we are to believe that we are capable of achieving that innate need, the healthier our self-worth, while the opposing belief drives us towards complacency, and self-defeat. The awkward truth is that more often than not people don’t know what they need to improve their current state, but they usually have a very good idea as to what someone else may need. Hence the benefit of perspective when our familiar surrounds are taken away. The point is, if we’re going to wait for others to agree to the change that is needed before we provoke it, we’ll spend a lot of time waiting, and very little time living.

    [My distracted state is evident in the randomness of this train of thought, if it can even qualify as a train!]

  • The Ebb and Flow of Mediocrity

    I’ve often found myself considering restraint in sharing my knowledge with some, because of the ridiculous assumption that in doing so, I may render myself redundant. But then I started considering previous times when I did share such knowledge and noticed how few embraced it. It’s really simple, this whole leadership thing. Take accountability for who you are, and lead by example. If you have the conviction, it will hold you in good stead, if you don’t, you’ll be a victim. Based on the simplicity of it all, I assumed that it would be readily adopted by most, given how sincerely everyone chants about their desire to rise above their circumstances. I’ve since discovered that those chants are hollow. It’s the quiet conviction that is evident only in action that holds any truth these days.

    The vast majority are so secure in celebrating their struggles, that they refuse to grasp a reality without it. They’ve chosen to be defined by their struggles. The rest of the meek look up to them as martyrs fighting the good fight, but refusing to see the self-deprecating behavior that keeps them firmly in that cycle because recognising such behaviour will inevitably lead to a self-realisation that will shake their world. I would never have believed that success was so daunting to so many if I didn’t witness it first hand. But it can’t be success, can it? I mean, everyone spends their lives trying to be successful in some way or another, so perhaps it’s their definition of success, the subconscious definition that needs to be questioned.

    I think too many of us define a reality of success that is different to our dream of success. We create goals that are based on ideal outcomes, and then look around to see our less-than-ideal circumstances, and resign those goals to being mere ideals and therefore unattainable. Then we focus on what is realistically achievable based on our current circumstances, measure that against our past successes, and calibrate our expectations of success against that. Little do we realise that in so doing, we have just defined mediocrity, and lost sight of true success. So what is true success then?

    I think true success is where our ideals meet with our convictions, so that we find ourselves creating the circumstances we need to achieve the idealistic goals that we desire. However, this demands a healthy ego, and an equally healthy passion driven by purpose. The one without the other is a recipe for humiliation. The ego is needed to establish the conviction that convinces us that we are capable, while the purpose driven passion is what keeps us focused on the outcome we set out to achieve. Again, sounds simple enough, yet so many still get it wrong. Why?

    The answer to that question, I believe, is easier than most would like to accept. It’s not the fear of success that holds us back, but the fear of accountability. Letting go of a struggle that has come to define who we are inevitably leaves us wanting when that struggle no longer holds true. And in there lies the ebb and flow of mediocrity. Some go through a lifetime redefining that struggle in order to ensure that it always holds relevance, while just a few shrug off the stigma of their struggles and choose to reinvent themselves as many times as is needed to get closer to the ideals of their dreams.

    The world is full of meekness clothed in aggression and pompous displays of trophies. When such is the prevailing reality, it stands to reason that those with purpose will be scorned as dreamers who will amount to nothing, until they do, followed by the masses swaying to celebrate the triumphs that they themselves scorned to begin with. Success by association is the food for the masses. It gives more people purpose than purpose itself.

    Contemplating this leaves a distinctly bitter after taste about the state of this world I find myself in. The difficulty of not being one of the masses in a society that has polarized towards group thinking and collective accountability, is that finding your success can be an intensely lonely path, leaving any subsequent embrace in the face of success deprived of sincerity.

  • The Thief of Yesterday

    Living in the past is often recognized as unfortunate or sad, or at times it is seen as pathetic or weak. More than this, I think it is a sign of ingratitude. Carrying around our burdens that have long since left us simply says that what we have available to us now is irrelevant because what we wanted then was never achieved. The logic baffles me, which is why I often find myself scathing in my response to those that consistently dwell on insecurities from a time when they may have been overwhelmed or cheated out of a good life, if their current state offers them more than they were ever cheated out of to begin with.

    I look around me and I find no shortage of examples of people that are so self-loathing that they become egotistical in the process. That’s not as contradictory as it may sound. The egotist, by definition, is excessively self-absorbed. Strange though that we only associate this trait with those that seek to embellish their lives for show, but fail to see the same loathsome tendencies in those that decry their lives for pity. When we fear success, but seek it desperately, the angst it creates leaves us desperate to hide our weakness while soliciting pity from the world by presenting our inner struggles as struggles against this harsh and cruel world. The irony though, is that it is that very same insincerity that makes this world harsh and cruel. Therefore, it’s quite superficial for the contributors to that state to be the ones complaining about it.

    Insincerity is called for when we want to be seen as something we inherently believe is not true about ourselves. Or worse, something we believe we’re incapable of achieving. Most often the need to be seen as successful is greater than the need to be true to ourselves, and so the result leaves us creating facades and elaborate images of a perfection that eludes us. The conflict this creates within us feeds the self-loathing until it becomes who we are, and we fail to see what we were fending off in the first place. Some believe pity is called for when faced with such feebleness, I disagree.

    The harshness of reality has always been a greater teacher than any fairy tale ever was. Cajoling and condoning only reinforces the very same egotistical behavior that started the cycle. However, given the weakness in most to want to be seen as likeable and huggable and amicable and all those ridiculously juvenile aspirations, it’s no surprise to me to see that the majority of advice dished out at times like these is to embrace and support and pacify, rather than to dish out a healthy dollop of tough love.

    More than tough love, there is a self love that is called for. Not the sugar coated type, but the one that insists that if I don’t take care of myself first, I won’t be of much use to others. The more I deny myself the right to move forward in life, the more likely I’ll be to hold others back. For every person that needs to be cajoled and molly coddled (I despise these terms!) there is someone that is focusing on cajoling and molly coddling instead of growing in their own lives. I can hear the clamour of the idealists chanting in the background that such compassion in itself offers growth, but they confuse compassion with excessive accommodation.

    One verse from the Qur’an always prompts me back to reality, and that is that there is no burden that will visit a soul that is greater than that soul can bear. This has so much truth in it that it makes the fickleness of many that much more contemptible. Not because the verse prompts us towards intolerance for the struggles of others, but because for me, it reminds me that just as I must find the capacity and ability to deal with what comes my way, so too does everyone else. I am no more special than the next person, but the moment I slip into a self-defeating pathetic state that suggests that the world must stop and recognize my struggle before I will rise above it, in that moment I become a burden rather than a blessing to those around me.

    We all have a limited capacity to deal with strife in our lives. Yes, you read correctly, I believe it is limited. However, that limitation is largely defined by two key reasons of who we are as individuals or human beings. The first reason being our ability to live in the present moment and making conscious decisions about what is worth holding on to versus what we should let go of. The second reason being the subconscious tolerance level we set for ourselves. A level that is most often dictated by our ego rather than the practical reality of what we’re faced with.

    The thief of yesterday creeps in and destroys the beauty of the present moment when we convince ourselves that until we receive the desired affirmation, acceptance, inclusion, or validation that was missing yesterday, we are unworthy of embracing the beauty of today. Until we achieve that moment of perceived significance in the eyes of the insignificant, we prevent ourselves from moving on. It’s a load of hogwash that destroys more than the rejection we originally experienced. It’s a juvenile cry to the world to see my significance, and my strength because of how much I’ve endured for so long, rather than to cherish my own strength, internally, when I realise that it will take a lot more than the fickleness of others to knock me down.

    I wish there were more people with such resilience, spunk, attitude, or whatever it is that you choose to call it. More people that are recognised to be a bad ass, or a difficult character (for the right reasons), because that is the seat of passion for life. Not in the loins, but in the heart. Conviction to shape your future, rather than the meekness to be shaped by your past. History has its place, but only to inform us of where we went wrong, not to define what we’re worth.

    Investing in the weakness of others has its place, but only for enough time as is affordable to pull them forward, out of their abyss, and into the beauty of the present moment. Some would argue that a life sacrificed towards this achievement may yield the strength of a saved soul that could change the world, but I would argue that such a sacrifice denies the world of the beauty that you could have shared instead.

  • The Projection of Rage

    There is very little else that enrages me more than the sight of parents that project their insecurities on their children. Parents that feel insecure about where they’re at or how they’re perceived by society and then over compensate by supposedly making sure that their children are not going to be perceived in the same way. The coward’s way of life is to live vicariously through others. That’s safe, risk averse, and effectively protects you from being perceived as a failure. That’s not life. That’s fear.

    But it’s not only parents that project such fears on their children and then raise sheltered or dysfunctional charges. It’s a practice that is almost pervasive these days from governments to organisations to almost every social structure we see. It feels like we’re living in a world where everyone has to defend their claim to significance, and those that feel like they don’t have one, associate themselves with causes that justify their rage at feeling insignificant. Countries that have military might will exact respect through force, or impose their beliefs through occupation, while organisations do the same through developing lethargic hierarchical structures that disempower while holding accountable those without authority.

    Behind all of this aggression lies flawed human beings that lack conviction or sincerity, and therefore leverage the tools and resources at their disposal to make a point that would otherwise go unheard. The climb to the top therefore becomes one of self-enrichment rather than servitude. It is therefore no wonder that those that occupy public office, or positions of ultimate authority, rarely use it for the benefit of the masses, but instead aim to benefit their revered peers instead. It’s a corruption of the soul that leads to a vapid life. A life that feels so empty that the only way to fill it is through the acquisition of trinkets and distractions, and the exercise of authority over subjects that have no means to retaliate or protest.

    The individualistic and narcissistic tendencies of the modern day interpretation of human rights and the rule of democratic law has created a cesspool of moral and ethical degradation that celebrates the implosion of human dignity. We’ve created structures and protocols that pacify our innate conscience so that we are not deprived of sleep at night, but we live the same indignity we impose the moment we find ourselves deprived of the resources we once wielded.

    For governments it’s a coup or a landslide defeat when being removed from power. For organisations, it’s the cheque book holders that dethrone the arrogant heads that no longer serve them well. For society, it’s the leaders that fall from grace when their morally objectionable behaviour that is celebrated in private becomes public. We only seem to be called to account if the common knowledge of our excess indulgence becomes noted by those perceived to be our moral authorities, otherwise turning a blind eye works well because we have much that we wish others would overlook as well.

    We’re a society that resides in glass houses. We lament the erosion of dignity and peace, but refuse to acknowledge our contribution to it. This is not a rant, it’s a lament. We’re so focused on appearances, perceptions, and reputation, that we dare not disappoint the expectations of those that need our fickleness as a yardstick against which to measure their own.

    Society, of which I am a futile member, have become nothing more than a projection of rage on that which we cannot influence, or prevent. We are enslaved, more by our fears of being human than by any system imposed on us. Authenticity is rare. It requires an embrace of who we are, and a conviction in who we want to be. Most are willing to settle for the facade, because the substance appears far too daunting to pursue. The path of least resistance has never been more appealing to the meek than it is now. It is therefore no wonder that we are meek in conviction, and bold in oppression, of ourselves, and those around us.

    [This turned out to be more cryptic than intended]

  • The Egosystem

    Egosystem (n) – A complex set of defenses designed to stave off criticism or intelligent conversation with the aim of retaining our preferred status quo. In the corporate world, often presented as a plausible excuse to resist change and establish empires.

    It’s the same egosystem that causes us to grow defensive in the face of opposition, where we feel persecuted if our opinion is not accepted. The irony is that we employ such defense mechanisms with the aim of protecting ourselves from a perceived threat, when in fact that defense is what harms us most.

    Exhausting is the effort it takes to wear down such defenses so that a whole life can be lived. Exhausting for both the whistle blower and the victim. We’re often so focused on defending ourselves from being the perceived victims of circumstances and others around us that we fail to protect ourselves from becoming victims of ourselves.

    In a world that is engineered to create victims in order to create new capitalist markets, the corrosive mindset that it spawns quickly sets the tone for how we perceive our worth relative to the world around us. I used to think that I interacted with various ecosystems as I worked my way through life, or simply through an average day, but the longer I live, the more I realise that it is the egosystems that drive the events around me rather than any ecosystem I previously perceived.

    When I fail to recognise those egosystems, I inevitably get drawn into it and find myself trying to defend my contribution in a space that is already contaminated by the egos of others. There is no value that can be demonstrated in such a setting. You either play to the egos that you’re surrounded with, or you disrupt. When you play to it, you become the disrupted and inevitably find yourself toeing the line to a tune you didn’t choose. But it offers inclusion and feigned acceptance, which is comforting at a superficial level. But because most of us live superficially, we willingly subscribe to such a toxic social setting. Not always limited to our social circles though, and in fact, more prone to exist in our professional circles where almost everything becomes a measuring contest.

    However, when I do become aware of the egosystem that putrefies the air around me, my instinctive response is to disrupt. It’s that long held belief of mine that the arrogant must be treated with arrogance, which has served my sanity well, but my bank account and social circles have suffered as a result. Hypocrisy seeps to the surface when I find myself restraining myself in the face of such isolation or disruption because I lack the will to trudge through the mire that often follows such conviction. But I placate myself by believing that similar to arrogance, hypocrites deserve a dose of hypocrisy. Do I then willingly contribute to the cesspool that I despise? Probably. But I find it acceptable as a response to those that refused to respond to the wholesome goodness of my ego, and therefore deserve a taste of my alter-ego instead.

    One of the most scary thoughts for me has always been the knowledge that if I had to embrace the vile behaviours of those around me with the same vigour and conviction as I do my current set of principles, I would be devastatingly effective at politics. Yes, I know, that must sound so arrogant, but that is exactly the point I am making. Being arrogant does not require conviction in principles. It simply requires an indulgent mind bent on self-enrichment and consumerism. Pretty much the ingredients needed to sustain a destructive egosystem.

    We’re all capable of being assholes, so a successful asshole is not one that should be celebrated because there are too many principled fools that fell as a result of their manipulations. But principled fools don’t seem to garner much respect either because they appear naïve and foolhardy in their convictions, so it is of little surprise that there is not much respect in this world, let alone respect for the world we live in. The ecosystem of earth is being contaminated by the egosystem of us, but we seem to be looking for answers everywhere but at home.

  • Models of Harm

    The formative years. It sounds like such an innocent time in our lives when we’re absorbing all these great life experiences that will one day shape our characters as adults. We unwittingly adopt the behavioural tendencies of those around us, including those we later despise and those we hold dear. Sometimes specific moments become etched as defining moments that we never fully understand but can always recall with vivid detail even though it seemed like just a fleeting moment of no consequence at the time. However, most of the time the less pleasant experiences are not etched as memories, but instead as fuel for our defenses that are formed without specific choice on our part.

    As a child, I think it’s perfectly normal to block things out in order to remain resilient. In the absence of any mature coping mechanisms at that early age, forgetfulness and forgiveness, although not conscious choices, serves us well. However, in the process, it shapes our perspectives of the world that either manifests itself as healthy or destructive later on. This, more than the memories that are etched in our minds that we recall with vivid detail, is the real threat to our sanity as adults. The themes that carry through those periods of ‘forgive and forget’ defines our sense of self-worth, but more importantly I believe it defines our belief in what our contribution towards society can be (not will be).

    If we constantly forgave the spiteful, selfish, or abrasive acts of others towards us, we’re inclined to grow up believing that we should expect nothing less, and therefore slip into a victim state of mind. We become subservient and enslaved to the point where the absence of an opportunity to be subservient may result in us growing excessively despondent in the belief that we are not worthy enough for anyone to seek our subservience. In other words, if I don’t find a setting in which I can be of service to a higher authority that I recognise as such (not necessarily a religious or spiritual one), I will most likely feel incomplete, unfulfilled, or even worthless to those around me. Alternately, if those themes are ones of acceptance, praise, and condoning of my actions no matter what, I would be likely to grow up feeling entitled, arrogant, and generally more deserving of attention and affirmation than others. In fact, not just deserving, but needy of it. Of course, these are just two polar opposites of the spectrum. Sometimes, those that are compelled to believe they are victims fiercely resist the thought and grow aggressive or destructive (or both) in their efforts to demand significance while not having the presence of mind to understand why their approach serves as nothing more than a further erosion of their significance to those around them.

    Such inclinations are easily excusable up to a point. That point arrives when we acquire the capacity and skills to reflect on our behaviour consciously, rather than continuing to live spontaneously without thought or consideration for the impact of our actions on others. I believe this to be true for both the subservient and the arrogant. Those that persist with the patterns of behaviour into their adult years under the pretense that that is simply their nature have in fact not progressed much beyond their formative years. They may have acquired new skills and defined more effective strategies in the years that followed, but the underlying motivation and purpose that drives their behaviour remains unconsciously informed. No different to a child throwing a tantrum for something that they want because they have no better judgement to understand why it may be bad for them or those around them.

    There is a point in all this rambling even though it may not seem so yet. What I’m struggling to articulate is really the crux of why we feel dis-ease in our lives as we find ourselves struggling to achieve things that come naturally to others. We sometimes struggle in our roles in society, or family, often caught between knowing that what we’re doing is wrong, but also not knowing why we are not inclined to do it right. It’s this angst that is often masqueraded as anger or arrogance accompanied by a healthy dose of obstinacy, but sometimes is also manifested in behavioural patterns that go against our nature. It’s a struggle that every one of us lives with to varying degrees of intensity, and I’ve found that those that are most mindful of those early influences in their lives are the ones that are most at peace with these struggles. That doesn’t mean that the struggle ever abates, but simply that it occupies less space in their sub-conscious mind than most of us.

    But there is another important side to this state of reflection and conscious choice. What we often fail to do is separate the role models from the destructive actions. We fail to see their demons and therefore feel trapped in knowing that we disapprove of their actions but feel that such disapproval may be a rejection of them. When they are parents or siblings, or other loved ones in our lives, that tension becomes extremely disruptive to our state of mind. So perhaps the most important part of forgiving and forgetting is not necessarily looking beyond the actions only, but also being able to recognise the role that someone played in our lives while discounting the behavioural associations with them?

    In order to discount those associations I would need to have a frame of reference against which to validate my choice instead. Right there is the origin of such angst. Too many insist on an absolutist approach to all this. We either accept the role of our parents as being definitive, or as being irrelevant. Very few make a healthy choice of determining which were their parents’ demons versus their deliberate efforts. We inadvertently create a model around which to shape our lives without realising its significant parts that in fact operate independent of each other, and in doing so, we adopt the same flawed frame of reference that drove them to unsuccessfully struggle with their demons as they tried to lay the foundations for our lives.

    These models of harm were not imposed on us. We created it from the assumptions we continued to make as we grew older. Chances are, when we lack the ability to look critically but compassionately at those around us, we probably lack the ability to reflect critically but compassionately about ourselves. When that happens, we are likely to subscribe to labels and norms that we don’t fully understand but nonetheless do so because it offers affirmation, validation, or at the least, an excuse as to why we may not be able to fulfill the ideals of the roles that we would want to fulfill instead. It gives us that excuse to say that we can’t control our choices because there is proof that there are others that are similarly afflicted, and therefore it can’t be an affliction, but instead it must simply be a norm that goes against the norm.

    There is strength in numbers. And it’s the strength in the numbers of those we polarise towards that will determine which themes we adopt for our lives. If I surround myself with successful but unethical sales people in my quest to become a successful salesman, I will quickly find reason to justify the unethical behaviour that feeds my success. But in order to do this, I would need to completely discount the ethical points of reference that may have informed my ethics up to that point. If I cannot successfully demonise those points of reference, I will forever be conflicted and will experience dis-ease throughout my career’s successes, even though that may not be visible to those around me.

    We’re all sales people. We’re all offering a product of ourselves to those around us, and depending on how desperately we want to make that sale, we’ll compromise our core values in order to receive the acceptance we desire. How readily we compromise, including what we choose as being our core values, is directly influenced by the models of harm that we formulated as we worked our way through life. Again, a moment of reflection therefore becomes more beneficial than 80 years of prayer.

     

  • The Art of Insincerity

    One of the most common observations that people share about me is that they know where they stand with me. I’m the one that usually speaks everyone else’s mind for them when they lack the courage to be bold. I don’t do this deliberately, I do it out of frustration. That frustration stems from the realisation that whining in private never changes what irks us in public.

    Initially my inclination to speak out is based on a belief that those that are silent are in fact oppressed in some form or another. It’s a belief that drives me to be convinced that if given a shoulder to lean on, or a support structure from which to draw strength, people will inherently find more reason to be true to themselves, and in so doing, act with greater conviction in the face of obstacles, or oppression. Such idealism has never served me well.

    The reality is closer to people wanting to be liked more than they care about fighting any good fight. Popularity is what drives us more than conviction. Perhaps this is why leaders are despised in the making, but revered in office. We judge harshly those that push for change when such change disrupts our own comfort zones, but feel no qualms about indulging in the benefits of the new realities created by the same people we once despised, often even proudly claiming affiliation with the struggle that brought about the much needed change.

    Glory hunters. That’s all we are. To be associated with that which is perceived as popular or meritorious by those we idolise is what drives our conviction. Pride of association. It’s a powerful tool to influence the masses. But it comes at a price. The price we pay for it is the isolation we feel when we realise that we’re simply the pawns of the masses in the run up to the turning of the tide.

    The art of insincerity is best displayed in that final phase of a tough project when all the naysayers suddenly rally around being fully supportive as if they were by your side all along, drooling with the anticipation of sharing in the glory of the achievement that everyone thought you insane to pursue in the first place. That’s when the ambivalence sets in because despite the obvious hypocrisy, you need them to appreciate the benefits of the endeavour, because without those very same consumers, the outcome will be redundant no matter how brilliant the solution.

    This is true in both work and life. The fact that we still have good reason to differentiate between the two is sad, but that is a topic for another day’s ramblings. So it seems the art of insincerity is a reciprocal one. It’s one of the times when holding fast to higher principles will erode the value of the outcome. Sanity can only be salvaged through the adjustment of our expectations. If we expect sincerity, we’ll be distracted from our purpose. But that demands a reciprocation of insincerity, because if we don’t have an expectation of sincerity, then by default we accept that demanding less than what we would ideally want is in itself insincere relative to our convictions. In so doing, we too will master the art of insincerity that we so vehemently despise in others.

    I guess the test of life might lie in being a better hypocrite than the next. I think we call that political correctness, no?