Against armchair humanitarianism

London | Spring 2016

I know I'm far from the first to pick up on this theme, with satirical websites like McSweeney's Internet Tendency featuring articles like "When My Grandkids Ask Me What I Did to Fight American Fascism, I'll Proudly Tell Them I Tweeted a Few Times". But I think Western culture currently faces a set of issues that I'll group together under the title of 'armchair humanitarianism'.

From the comfort of our living rooms we can watch the news or surf the web and immediately share our thoughts on one crisis after another with hundreds or thousands of 'friends'. This ability certainly has an upside, in that we are probably more aware of what is happening around the world than any previous generation. At the same time, the sheer number of tragedies and injustices can overwhelm and immobilise us, leaving us unsure where to contribute our time, our money -- even our attention.

We comment on Facebook or change a profile picture in a show of solidarity and assume that we've discharged our duty toward our fellow man. I'm 'woke', I know what's really happening in the world, and I've expressed my outrage at all the right people, so I've done my bit. We show how much we care, 'virtue signal' to others on social media, and consider that a good day's work. We expiate any guilt we feel in 140 characters.

We're attracted to sexy causes and issues -- often ones that celebrities are vocal about -- sometimes at the expense of equally important but less glamorous problems. For instance, AIDS rightly gets a lot of press, but did you know that (at least as of 2014) the WHO estimated that a child dies of malaria every minute? And while Americans are hand-wringing and bashing one another about differing views on healthcare (not that this isn't important), 200 more migrants/refugees are feared to have drowned, after two capsized boats were found off the coast of Libya. But this has almost ceased to be a story, because it has happened so many times before.

We forget old or failed causes and look for something new to care about. So we 'care deeply' about something for a short time -- even a long time -- and think that this alone makes us better people. The problem is, you can't eat moral outrage. You can't dress wounds with it, you can't stop conflicts with it. Solutions require action that reaches beyond the screen.

Information and empathy are important as we begin to address natural disasters, injustices, etc., but they are only a small part of what must happen. Too often I think we assume that once we've read and retweeted an article or two, we've done what we could and someone else must step in and get their hands dirty. But what if a whole generation thinks this way?

This is as much a challenge to myself as to anyone else to get out of the figurative armchair and put down the phone and sweat a little in the cause of what is right. I'm not calling for indiscriminate action, or for people necessarily to go to the far corners of the globe (there's plenty of injustice closer to home) but for each of us to take an active part in seeking solutions to the problems we see around us -- and ensuring that even the less glamorous or novel issues get the attention they need.

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

I John 3:18

On sharing

I had to learn to share from a young age, since my first little brother came along well before I was two years old. I had to share my Duplos (anyone remember those?) as well as our parents' attention.

As time went by, my life was enriched by the coming of more little brothers. It was also complicated, as I learned to share more than just my toys. I didn't always like it when my brothers butted in on 'girl movies' I was supposed to be watching with just our mom. Sharing time and attention didn't come naturally.

Then, as I got into those overwhelming teenage years, my parents kept telling me I had to learn how to communicate -- to share those icky, messy feelings and the deeply personal thoughts that lay beneath (some of) them.

If we're being honest, I think for many of us that's a lifetime's work right there -- learning to share our deepest thoughts and emotions (and discerning with whom to share them). Vulnerability: in my head it comes with the image of standing naked in public. Both sound fairly unpleasant.

Yet, as that famous Lewis quote reminds us, "To love at all is to be vulnerable" (C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves). So the inverse is true: if we refuse vulnerability, we're cutting ourselves off from love. I think that's the one thing most of us fear more than vulnerability -- a life without love.

Before you decide I'm just repeating what has been said more eloquently by others, what I'd actually like to consider in a bit more depth is the intersection of love and beauty. Not in the conventional sense of how physical attraction relates/should relate to love, but how loving others relates to sharing experiences of beauty.

This is something I'm not always very comfortable with, because it requires a particular type of vulnerability. You're inviting someone else into your interior life, showing them the things you cherish in the privately curated museum of your soul. Whether it's a poem, a symphony, a fiery sunset, an indie rock song or an impressionist painting, we're not only sharing something we find beautiful, but we're also sharing something about ourselves -- how we see the world and how its beauty touches us.

And of course, with this openness enters the possibility of rejection, of ridicule. Sharing is always a risk, because the other person can, if they choose, just take and never give back, or stomp all over the thing we've given them. Still, if Lewis is to be believed, it is a risk worth taking.

We must also allow others to share their appreciation of beauty with us. This requires us to be open to the idea that we don't have a monopoly on good taste or sensitivity to beauty, which should be obvious, but is easy to forget in practice. Humility -- not a hugely popular word, but a Christian virtue (1 Peter 5:5) -- plays a role here. Philippians 2:3 instructs us, in love, to esteem others more highly than ourselves; I think it is safe to say this includes giving weight to others' opinions on and perceptions of beauty (though of course we mustn't abandon discrimination/taste altogether -- another post in that).

The goal, in the end, is "love unfeigned" (2 Corinthians 6:6, KJV). I love that old-fashioned word. It's the genuine article, illustrated perfectly of course in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who sees and can redeem the beauty in each one of us -- because, of course, he put it there.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time."

- Ecclesiastes 3:11 - 

Cambridge | March 2017