Moral Decay

It seems sometimes that as I have become older, I have just become more insecure. More insecure, and about more important things. Where once I worried if people liked me, and worried about the social expectation to have a girlfriend (and yes, a girlfriend. Homophobia was almost universal in my school in Kenya). Now I worry about doing anything worthwhile with my life, about what is good in this world, and about whether I am ever going to be able to have a family. One day, I will worry whether I have sold out on all the ideals I will suppose I must have had when younger, though I find it hard to locate them precisely right now, and if I am lucky enough to have a family I will be worried to bits over whether I am doing it right, the impossibility of raising a family perfectly preying on my every thought.

This problem is a particularly haunting in these early hours after the week has come to an end. The insecurities, past and future (because worrying never really goes away, and worrying about what you are going to worry about is still worrying), flood the consciousness, driving everything else out. Or so it seems. One feels an urge to put pen to paper, to create something which will fix this moment in time, document it that the memory is not lost, perhaps to help in some future time.

I have been worried of late that I have slipped into a pattern of moral decay. I don't feel as confident in what I think is right as I want to. I don't have the strength to act on the convictions I do have as much as I would like to. In conversation, I might say things about being a bit of a Nietzschean, say that I believe in constructing my own values and pursuing them vigorously. More and more it seems that this is bullshit. I don't think I ever even thought that, not really. It is probably more true to say that values are socially constituted, that they are to do with us being human animals, and that yes, some of them we create and pursue.

How, then, to live? I doubt my motivations, was this done for my CV, or for its intrinsic worth? Am I merely focused on securing my material needs, or upon some notion of the glory of success, or on making my parents proud of me? I don't know. Probably these factors are influential, after all they seem to be strongly present in the culture I exist in. I do not know the extent to which their influence holds, and extent is important.

As liberals it often feels that all we can agree on is what people ought not to do, not what people ought to do. We ought not limit people's freedoms in important ways, so that people can live a good life. Or because as rational beings to force people to do anything is wrong. Or because it would make people unhappy. There is a strong negative story here, which is helpful in improving the lives of countless people, since it is manifested in a concern for human rights, civil liberties, and the provision of basic goods. Much misery has been forestalled by such concerns.

However, once these minima are secured, as they are to a great extent in Western societies, what then? What are we to focus our efforts upon (link)? The negative story of what ought not be the case for individuals has come to pass, and of course if we care for our fellow people we ought to fight for their basic minima, but that alone cannot be the secret to a meaningful life. Once these minima are achieved, what then? People look for answers in all sorts of places: in art, or religion, or the pursuit of scientific knowledge. What an idealistic picture, that the ultimate goal of a human life is the universal quest for truth in whatever form. This seems implausible. We can imagine a pre-modern tribe who enjoy a time of abundance, but do not seek answers. What makes their lives worth living?

Perhaps life is just enjoyable. Certainly it seems there is truth in the supposition that happiness is what happens when your mind is on other things. I don't know if I can swallow this, though. In my recent times there has been plenty to enjoy, but still a persistent feeling that something is wrong. Perhaps fulfilment is socially constituted. It is the strength and use of our social connections that typify a good life. Again I am reluctant to accept this suggestion, though it may be taking us on the right tracks. There must be something more to the question of how I can live a good life.

Certain segments of the media would have me believe that the answer is, in fact, love. Now I am not entirely sure what love is, particularly at this moment as the crowding out affect of worrying has temporarily (I hope) inhibited my capacity to feel. Yet it seems like a plausible candidate if we take off the sugary coating. My parents and maternal grandparents really do seem to have excellent lives, and this may well be in large part due to the intimate relationships they have seen flourish over their lives with each other and with their children. One of the additional factors supporting this supposition is that our generation is reckoned to be the best connected (technology, obviously) and yet loneliest, so far. Our social worlds have become broader, but shallower (as described in Bowling Alone and countless sensationalist newspaper articles). Real relationships take time and commitment and take up similar levels of time and energy as one's career, religion for the more observant, time in the pub and high-performance kiting hobby. We can't have everything, and we need to know what the important things are. Maybe this is what's going wrong here: it's worth a thought. Maybe, after all, all you need is love.


PS: This read with my blog on post-christianity could be seen as a microcosm of the crisis of modernity following the declining influence of organised religion. If you're into that sort of thing.