Can I Responsibly Consume War?
Anger, Activism, Apathy & Acceptance of Things I Cannot Control
Russia. Ukraine. War.
Bombings. Shellings. Devastation.
Hostages. Refugees. Suffering.
Displaced lives. Displaced dreams.
Geopolitical chessgames sacrificeing human pawns.
The shattering of peace.
Scar tissue forms in millions of hearts.
Unmetabolized collective trauma numbs empathy.
If there’s one thing I know for certain…
The killing has to stop.
Who Am I In Relation To This Crisis?
I’m not sure I know who I am in relation to this crisis. I’m not sure what I believe. I can’t help but feel confused, helpless, and aware that I should be feeling something.
After all, people are dying, living in displacement, fearing for their lives, grappling with the uncertainty of tomorrow, and wondering if normal will ever be possible again.
(sigh)
Truth be told, isn’t this is always the case?
Life is fragile. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Tragedies are happening every day, most of which I’ll never know anything about.
Wars have and will continue to rage on in my lifetime (fingers crossed that maybe I’m wrong). In the past, I’ve either chosen to not pay much attention or the media landscape has chosen for me. I’ve grown up insulated in privileged peacefulness.
Although this war is still far from home, it feels a little different. Perhaps it’s the choice to not intervene (unlike in Afagantastan, Iraq, Syria, etc.) Perhaps it’s the fact that Russia is a nuclear power and the world’s largest country by size.
This conflict has weight. Russia is exerting brute military force over Ukraine in the name of…
…Restoring the Russian Empire,
…Pursuing denazification,
…“Liberating” the victims of Ukrainian nationalism,
…Redefining the status quo within Europe to preserve “Our historic future as a nation", as Putin put it.
…or any number of possible motives.
I cannot help but pay attention. This is a global event. And thoughtful, well-meaning people pay attention to global events, right?
The Onus Of Caring
I’m supposed to care. I cannot retreat into my bubble of privilege and pretend I don’t know what’s going on.
Or can I?
Is sheltering myself from the painful updates in Ukraine turning away from tragedy?
Or is it protecting my vital energy?
Maybe it’s both?
I fear that if I truly open up my heart and let it all in, it will destroy me. In an act of self-preservation, I want to throw up a barrier that says, “I’m only willing to engage so much with this war. I need to preserve my own sanctity. I can only handle so much pain and suffering.” But truly, how do I know how much I can handle?
I find myself in a predicament.
The truth is that I could turn the other way. I could not give a shit. I could continue life as if nothing was happening. If this were a hundred years ago, that would pretty much be the case, as the news would trickly slowly compared to today’s instant updates.
But I cannot un-know, un-hear, or un-see what I’ve seen. Such willful blindness seems antithetical to my moral compass. It’s insensitive and wrong. I cannot ignore a war.
Give Me Something To Stand On, Please!
I look to others for help in piecing together a story that makes sense. I want to settle my mind somewhere.
In my search to understand, I must first stand. Where is there a narrative worth standing on?
Political pundits abound. I take in their viewpoints, but I’m more concerned with authoring my own.
One framework I’ve found helpful is called Moral Foundations Theory. (Thanks to Jamie Wheal for bringing this to my attention.)
This theory proposes six dimensions of universal moral values. The relative stacking and interpretations of these values create a matrix for locating individuals or cultures.
The dimensions are:
Care/Harm
Fairness/Cheating
Loyalty/Betrayal
Authority/Subversion
Sanctity/Degradation
Liberty/Oppression
It’s easy to see how Putin violates nearly all of these moral signposts. It’s also possible to see how people beholden to Russian propaganda may feel justified in supporting “special operations” in Ukraine as an expression of loyalty to authority, patriotism, and supporting liberty. It gives a reasonable motive to what seems completely unreasonable.
Clarifying my own moral compass along these dimensions seems important. I likely hold care above loyalty and authority. But where do sanctity and fairness stand?
I guess this also helps me understand why others see the world the way they do. Yet understanding motives and positions are only one part of being in relationship to this crisis. Beyond my rationality, feelings abound.
How Do I Truly Feel In This Moment?
When people ask me how I feel about the war, I say I’m not sure. My feelings are still in formation.
(Truth be told, most people don’t ask. They want to share preformed opinions or avoid the conservation altogether.)
When I go deeply into my feelings, I find my heart pointing to four things:
Our desire to be free of pain and discomfort.
Our ability to open our hearts to feel and hold suffering, both for ourselves and others.
Our capacity for caring about the welfare and wellbeing of people near and far.
Our conditioned defenses to close our hearts and protect our tender vulnerability.
If all of these are true, then I guess I feel aversion, sadness, constriction, and an impulse to act.
I feel the tenderness of knowing people are suffering and the hopelessness of knowing it is beyond my control.
What is the Responsible Response?
Where do I go from here?
Outrage? Anger? Activism?
I want to help, but truly what can I do.
Do I get on a plane to Ukraine to go fight in the war? This seems unrealistic.
Do I fundraise for humanitarian efforts? Certainly could.
Do I find some other way to get involved in mitigating the devastating repercussions of this war? Perhaps.
My intuition is telling me to proceed with caution.
Slow down.
If there’s one thing I know, it’s that premature action, especially action born from moral righteousness, can actually be quite self-absorbed and harmful.
We all have shadows driving us, and there are unintended consequences to activism without clear awareness of one’s motives.
We need to carefully inspect ourselves, so I’m trying to be aware of my own shadow. Am I just trying to appear morally engaged by talking about Ukraine?
Is my caring coming from a genuine place in my heart or just a public demonstration that I have high moral values?
Maybe this entire piece of writing is just a veiled virtue signal that Jeff is a guy you can trust. Congratulate his benevolence but don’t ask to see proof of ethical integrity.
The Apathetic Response
I also notice a part of me that is apathetic. The parallels of this crisis with other polarizing issues point to the ways that the world is going to shit: American cultural wars, political gridlock, racial injustice, economic disparity, climate change, pollution, etc. All of it.
Sadly, we’re seemingly content to sit on our Lazyboy with takeout food and watch the latest Netflix show while letting it all happen. #dontlookup
But I’m not a pessimist. Sure I have my grievances with mainstream culture, but I’m not hopelessly apathetic.
I’m a Buddhist-leaning, integral perspective-taking, anti-dogmatic, lovingly inquisitive soul trying to make sense of this mess.
I’m also Jewish by blood. I have great grandparents born in Kyiv. I’m wrestling with how this piece of my identity fits into my sensemaking alongside Putin’s proclamation of de-Nazifying Ukraine. It’s all so confusing.
Same Shit, Different Century
When I look at Putin, I see a leader acting out of delusions of grandeur fueled by carefully curated images and historical precedents that seemingly justify his brutal actions.
I also see nothing new.
This is the way powerful actors have been acting as long as powerful actors have been acting — using propaganda to consolidate power over people who don’t know another reality exists.
The idea that something like this could never happen seems naive. Humans are fickle, narcissistic, hypocritical, and easily corrupted. I’m not an exception. None of us are.
I know this may run counter to my general presumption of everyone’s fundamental goodness — our buddha nature — yet our darkness and our goodness can coexist. In fact, they must.
If we were all fully-realized buddhas, this drama we call life wouldn’t be very exciting. It is the very act of overcoming our fickle, narcissistic ways to rediscover our enlightened nature that makes for a good show. It gives us work to do.
Which Piece Is Mine To Hold?
In light of all of this, I wonder what is my work to do? Is this war ‘my work’ or someone else’s? Which piece of the puzzle is mine to hold?
How do I do good when I’m thousands of miles away from a situation, completely removed from the impact on my daily life, and pretty much powerless to effect change in course of events?
Am I relegated to the position of a passive bystander?
Moreover, am I relegated to the position of a consumer of war?
A position that itself has so many moral quandaries and contradictions baked into it that it makes my head spin.
Sensitivity to Suffering
The seedling I’m nurturing right now is that this war is asking me to sensitize myself to suffering.
I’m drawn to the words of activist Valerie Kaur:
“You don't have to know people in order to grieve with them. You grieve with them in order to know them.”
So I grieve and in doing so I create a place in my heart that is big enough for pain to coexist alongside joy.
Moreover, I practice remaining engaged, so when pain shows up in full force, I’m not overwhelmed but ready to respond — this is being a response-able human.
Of course, there are still pragmatic questions of where I can produce the most good for the greatest numbers. It also raises questions of boundaries around my own capacity to hold suffering?
Do I need to step back and not consume more war media? Do I need to reject being spoonfed sensational media designed to keep eyeballs and profits flowing? Do I need to dig deeper and do my own investigative journalism?
These are open questions, less to be answered and more to be lived day-to-day.
I hope my struggles to figure out, “Who am I in relation to this war?” and “How can I be a responsible human in light of it?” help incites some reflection.
I will continue to probe into the depths of this as it unfolds. For now, I seek to stay informed while being in formation.
~ Jeff