What Does It Matter?

Toward the end of his life, my father’s increasing indifference toward politics and governance frustrated me. He regarded it all as a lost cause unworthy of his time. My irritation stemmed from the belief that he was shirking responsibility for humanity, attributing his detachment to his faith in an afterlife, which made his earthly concerns feel trivial. I perceived this as more of a capitulation than enlightenment.

Had my father been an atheist who embraced nothingness, I might have found his perspective more understandable. Yet, he was a devout man who believed in a God deeply invested in the world and particularly fond of him.

“There is no spoon.” — The Matrix

As a weak proponent of existential nihilism, I cling too tightly to the belief that our lives carry meaning and purpose. Perhaps it’s merely a survival instinct, a desperate attempt to hold onto the faith of my youth. However, it feels more profound. I can’t claim my journey is an authentic quest for the divine, nor can I fully dismiss the existence of a greater sentient force.

Daily, I grapple with the persistent malaise that accompanies our quest for knowledge about human affairs. What could possibly justify all this worry? If I were to detach myself from the world, would it matter to anyone but me?

A crucial insight from the Buddha highlights the suffering that arises from our search for meaning in existence. Shunyata, or emptiness, is not a negative concept; rather, it represents liberation from the burdens of existential anxiety. If our existence is inconsequential, then everything is permissible, and no path can be deemed wrong.

When I find a semblance of sanity, my thoughts drift to this idea. We create our suffering, and since we can’t alleviate the pain of others, why burden ourselves or them with it? Why expend energy for an existential purpose that appears non-existent?

As the monk from The Matrix stated, “There is no spoon.”

Speak Out and Die

The late Algerian journalist Tahar Djaout, assassinated in 1993 for his stance against extremism and support for secularism, articulated a powerful truth: “Silence is death, and you, if you talk, you die, and if you remain silent, you die. So, speak out and die.”

“Silence is death, and you, if you talk, you die, and if you remain silent, you die. So, speak out and die.” — Tahar Djaout

This statement captures my altruistic side. I am fortunate, enjoying privileges that many across the globe cannot fathom. As a white man in contemporary America, life offers me nearly everything. To quote Morgan Freeman, my only obligation is to exist. The rationale behind my advocacy lies solely in benefiting others. So, why should I bother?

I recall an ancient fable by Aesop:

Old Men Planting Trees

An elderly man was planting a tree when three young men mocked him, questioning why he was wasting his time on something he wouldn’t live to enjoy. The old man paused and replied, “Others provided for my happiness; it’s my duty to ensure future generations have the same. Who knows who will live longer?”

The young men scoffed, confident in their vitality. Yet, their fates turned grim. One drowned at sea, another fell in battle, and the last met a tragic accident. Years later, a weary traveler rested under the shade of the tree, unaware of the old man’s sacrifice or the scorn he faced. He simply enjoyed the comfort it provided.

The Illogical Nature of Love

I firmly believe in love. Don’t scoff—it's not what you presume. My observations lead me to conclude that humanity hasn’t advanced significantly in understanding the power and essence of love. This ignorance is why we struggle with our purpose in life.

I’m not referring to fleeting romantic love, which burns brightly before extinguishing like a cheap match. Instead, I speak of a more altruistic love—the kind that motivates one to assist others, not out of sheer compassion but because it imparts meaning to our lives.

If you examine major religions, at their core, they advocate for peace through love for ourselves and our neighbors. Though they’ve been distorted over time for power and profit, their roots are deeply embedded in messages of love and peace. Yet, they often become entangled with outdated ideologies that spark conflict.

Perhaps all religions ultimately converge on a singular need for love, a yearning for meaning. Could it be that God, meaning, and love are simply different facets of the same concept?

Stuck in the Middle with You

People frequently attempt to convince me of the merits of political moderation or centrism, claiming I embody these ideals. However, my policy positions are anything but moderate.

If I wielded power, I would implement the progressive agendas proposed by Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez without hesitation—perhaps even more.

“Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.” — Stealer’s Wheel

I would transition to a fully socialist democracy: nationalizing healthcare, overhauling the criminal justice system, dismantling monopolies, and regulating Wall Street. The military budget would be halved, and billionaires would face fair taxation. I’d expand the judiciary and Congress, abolish the electoral college, nationalize elections, and ban lobbying. We would invest in public transportation, enhance education, and ensure food security through universal basic income.

This is merely a glimpse of my vision. The point remains: I am not moderate by conventional political standards. While anarchists and communists may be further left, their views are not ones I wish to entertain.

So why do others perceive me as a moderate?

As a pragmatic individual, I don’t falter at criticism but value courtesy. I believe the pendulum of societal norms has swung too far left, where only a few remain. I recognize that while dignity and compassion are essential, they should not require the majority to alter their lives for a small minority. Compromise is crucial, not because the center holds value, but because I believe everyone cannot have their way.

Thus, I find myself: disillusioned by life, seeking love, cherishing kindness, assisting where possible, and confronting the inevitability of death.

It may not seem like much, yet it encompasses everything, so perhaps it is something. I just wish it could be a bit more.

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