When I was younger I used to make my mom wait for me while I rounded up the grocery carts in the Kroger parking lot. The carts were in complete disarray, randomly scattered about, a few grouped together but most alone. I felt bad for the carts, especially the ones that were by themselves. I thought that by rounding them up I was bringing them closer to their friends, and, in turn, closer to happiness. It eventually reached the point where my mom refused to take me to the grocery store; my compulsive need to push the carts to a centralized location took up too much time, and, when she refused me, I would throw a fit. I remember one instance when it was raining, and my mom refused my cart routine. I wouldn’t stop crying, because I was imagining all of the carts with sad faces- big, round eyes and a mouth stuck in a permanent frown. They were miserable being left in the rain, the wind was pushing them about- away from friends, and the warmth of the grocery store. My mom tried to explain to me that the carts didn’t have feelings. They were just metal cages that were manufactured in large factories. I wasn’t reconcilable, if anything her attempts to comfort me had made it worse. My grandma thought it was the first sign of a serious mental disorder- perhaps this was the first signs of schizophrenia. My babysitter thought I didn’t have enough friends, and my mom’s best friend, a family councilor, thought I had a fear of being alone. My mom ignored all of their opinions and said I was a kid- just exploring and pushing the limits of my imagination. She was irritated by my behavior, but not worried.
Looking back on my persistence and emotional attachment to these carts I realize that my behavior wasn’t a reflection of a disturbed psyche, loneliness, or fear of abandonment. Rather it was my way of exploring and exercising my compassionate nature. I grew up in a household where compassion was heavily emphasized, and as a result it became a part of my value system at a very young age. It was never forced on me, but through my mom’s example, I adopted the belief that helping others was my social and moral obligation; it was my duty as a privileged child. It was such a subtle but ultimatley significant influence on my life that my compassion extended to inanimate objects.
When it comes to actually extending this compassion to other people I believe that altruism is ideal way to do it. According to the Oxford English Dictionary compassion is X, and altruism is X. One can get bogged down in the philosophical debate regarding altruism: Niche says altruism is X; others have argued that true altruism doesn’t exist. They say that one always has an ulterior motive, even if it is as simple as making themselves feel like better people for helping less fortunate individuals. I would have to agree with that argument that true altruism doesn’t exist, but simply by definition and philosophical merit. When it comes to real life application I think there is a significant distinction between alms giving because you walk away feeling good about what you’ve done, and alms giving for a tax right off. Working for a cause or giving to one is naturally going to inspire good feelings within you. However, one doesn’t specifically wake up in the morning and say, “I want to feel good about myself, so I am going to go sign up for habitat for humanity!” The feeling comes after the action, and hardly ever inspires it.
Philosophical debate aside, I chose to employ altruism as my practical ethic because, while I find myself constantly mentally extending compassion towards others, I feel like I don’t do enough to alleviate their suffering. For example, I feel bad for hoarse whisperer who stands outside of The Drag Mart. He’s not forcefull, crude, or intrusive like the other drag rats; he has a very feeble demeanor. However, despite my genuine curiosity about his life and the sympathy I feel for the difficulty of his living conditions, I haven’t done anything to establish a relationship with him.
My quest to transcribe this virtue into a practical ethic was very frustrating. The more I began to evaluate situations for the potential to exercise my altruism the further away from the genuine act of altruism I got. I started to judge my altruism by the context of this paper- what would benefit my arguments most? what would be the easiest to write about? The more I attempted to force myself to recognize altruistic opportunities the more I began to analyze the pros and cons.
Eventually, I realized if altruism is something I consciously sought then it will lose its meaning. The opportunities will present themselves to me, and I will inherently know the way I should react. Whether I actually take the initiative to react will be a test of my alturism. For example, imagine there is a girl carrying a huge case of water bottles and a couple of grocery bags on the elevator. Instead of thinking that her load must be heavy and, if you were in her place, you’d appreciate someone offering to possibly help, you should actually offer to help. Once I realized this fundamental difference in my approach to altruism, applying the value to my life as a practical ethic became much clearer. However, though I realized this difference, implementing it was difficult- I don’t happen upon girls carrying heavy groceries everyday and I don’t have infinite funds to give to the dragrats who “seem” deserving. The whole practical application was very frustrating. However, after having lunch with one of my friends it was pointed out to me that applying altruism to my daily life was easier than I was making it. I was thinking on to large of a scale. Sure there would be blatant opportunities, like helping the girl with a ton of groceries, but there were also small, seemingly insignificant things I could do that would be, by definition, altruistic.
For example, the same woman has swiped my meal card for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the past seven months. For seven months, I knew nothing about her, and, though I acknowledge her presence with a generic “hi, how are you?” I was generally to lost in my own problems to really care about the answer. Moreover, I wasn’t the only student to treat her with such disregard, I had witnessed a lot of students do the same thing. I don’t think any of us did it out of maliciousness particularly, I just believed that, like most humans, we were to preoccupied with our own life to really think about the “cafeteria lady” and why she was working in The Castillian Café. Being of retirement age, I assume that she’s working in the cafeteria of a dorm because she has to. Perhaps that is a presumptuous assumption on my part, but I figured that if it was an issue of wanting to work as opposed to having to work she would be doing something else. Moreover, in her line of work, I think that people often misunderstand her role. They may consider her their servant with the mindset that, “since she works here, it is her job to clean up after me.” She is so far off of most students’ radar, that her presence is hardly even acknowledged or appreciated.
So, having realized this I began talking to her. Though we have never formally introduced ourselves, I know that she has two kids and one grandchild. In October she was helping her grandson make his costume; he was going to be a power ranger. Her son has just submitted his college applications, and UT is at the top of his list. I started talking to this woman because I was curious, but, more importantly, I didn’t want her to feel like her role was miniscule. I imagine raising three children (her two kids plus her grandchild) is frustrating, and she may feel overlooked sometimes. If in asking her about her day, her life, and her new haircut, I could improve her day in some way.
Though my friendship with the woman working in the cafeteria is small in comparison to a woman starting a chocolate factory in an African country(x), I believe that it’s still altruism. It’s altruism as a practical ethic, and, as I continued on my quest to find opportunities in the mundane routines of life I realized that a lot of opportunities presented themselves to me. For example, holding the door open for someone, smiling at them and saying hello, picking up a piece of trash, saying thank you, letting someone have your seat on the bus, picking up a dropped item, putting the grocery cart where it belongs, putting an object at a store where it belongs. These are all acts of kindness that seem almost insignificant, because they are not overt and they are not situations riddled with suffering and despair. However, they are altruistic because there is no ulterior motive in doing them. You don’t do it because you know the garbage man is watching you and is now waiting for the opportunity to repay you- you do it because it’s the right thing to do and because it makes someone else’s job easier. These have a small impact on one person’s day, and for all you know that person could be having the most horrible morning and your small dosage of encouragement and appreciation could be all they need to take a new approach.
I don’t run around the Kroger parking lot collecting the grocery carts and putting them “with their friends” anymore. I’ve develop my compassion to include a wide range of people and situations, inanimate objects not included. However, while I was exploring the limits of this value, I became frustrated with my lack of action. I knew that I was capable of doing so much more than feeling sorry for someone, but I was thinking to ambitiously. Altruism, as a practical ethic and as a value I’m trying to incorporate into my life on a daily basis, can have its roots in the most simple acts of kindness.
