Don't Be Like That
On the eve of another contentious and divisive election in a frequently contentious and divided era, this idea has become a frequent mantra, one I try to repeat in my head whenever prodded, triggered or riled by the actions of another…
Don’t be like that.
Yesterday, a guy on a bicycle with ample room to ride around the small group of 50-something red and white jersey-clad women, who were leaving in sorrow after a thorough drubbing of the Niners, decided it would be - rather than casually divert his path of travel around them and go about his merry way - yelled out, “Get the fuck out of the bike lane, fat bitch!” This caused my lizard brain to immediately wish to perform the kind of tackle that the Niners secondary seemed allergic to against the Seahawks. Or to, at least, verbally respond in kind, flip both birds, to sink to that level, to get some revenge for a stranger with a common interest. But Marcus Aurelius once again had this situation covered, like so many others: “The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”
It’s a simple solution to some of our most difficult moments in life, and some of our most complicated problems. In a political landscape dominated by disingenuous pledges to take the moral high ground, which never seem to have life beyond the first five minutes of the campaign, or utter contempt of any such attempts at civility right from the get-go, if more of us pledged to not be like our neighbors who we find to be abhorrent, we might just see actual constructive discourse creep back into our national awareness of how to behave. We might be able to come off the defensive, retract our claws and talk about issues that need fixing. To find common ground. To cooperate. To be, well, neighborly, as all 7ish billion of us live together on this same, wet rock.
By making the pledge not to be like that, every time you were tailgated, flipped off, insulted, set off by a pundit on a cable news network, alarmed by a conspiracy theorist, forced to take the middle seat next to a guy with bad B.O., passed too closely by a maskless grocery shopper, or wished to see a bicyclist fly over the handlebars into McCovey Cove, the situation would become an exercise, a lesson, a moment to remember for next time, a dress rehearsal for the next inconvenience or outrage.
Over a surprisingly short timeline, the practitioner of this idea becomes less angry in general. And in my experience, the void of anger’s absence is usually filled with compassion.
Because maybe that jerk who said that awful thing to strangers had chaos, stress or suffering that I could not begin to fathom. Maybe the one bit of order in his life, that bike lane’s clear demarcation, was the only solace he could take at the moment. Then its imperfection sparked his anger. The intrusion of a gaggle of fans of a game he could care less about trespassed against him, causing outrage, provoking the desire for revenge. So, he reacted the way he’s seen countless others do so on our roads and sidewalks.
It’s important to keep in mind that your candidate might not win tomorrow. You might want to rage and smash and destroy because of it. But don’t be like that.
Your candidate might win tomorrow. You might want to go gloat and taunt your political rivals in person or on the internet. But don’t be like that.
It’s not empowering to be an asshole. Every sane person knows it is a character flaw. Every sane person who has let their anger get the better of them has had regrets. It does not help. There’s a reason Emperor Palpatine was presented as a withered shell of a man, literally consumed by the physical manifestation of his rage, hate and suffering.
“Don’t expect Plato’s ideal republic; be satisfied with even the smallest step forward and consider this no small achievement.” Do your civic duty. Take care of your fellow human beings. Change what you can and accept the things you cannot. Remember compassion in all interactions.
You know what to do if you see someone, or even yourself, failing to do the same.
