Theory versus reality

There is an old, scurrilous joke about a kid asking his dad about the difference between theory and reality. One doesn’t need a joke, however, to see the enormous gulf between the two concepts. A television commercial showing a car speeding uninhibited through Monument Valley is strikingly different that the reality of traffic jams and car payments. The Marine Corps slogan of “Duty, Honor, Country” is vacuous compared with the reality of PTSD or traumatic brain injuries caused by IEDs in Afghanistan. The promises of political candidates are fabulous compared with the reality of what the winner accomplishes in office.

I recognize the paradox between theory and reality inherent in my posts when I discuss the importance of connecting with others as real people, working toward a relationship that recognizes each person’s basic humanity, and not treating others as objects to be judged in ways except for the content of their character. I have mentioned Martin Buber’s concept of an “I-Thou” association built on trust and intimacy that overcomes the all-too-human tendency toward tribalism, objectification, xenophobia, and suspicion. Along these same lines, I have also cited George Fox’s mission, “to walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in everyone.”

While that sort of an intimate connection is a noble goal, it is to some extent idealistic nattering, a theory much simpler to propose in a blog post than to achieve in real life. It is all too easy to fall into the Us-versus-Them trap when encountering people who differ from us in some way, such as race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, political affiliation, religion, etc., or those who act in a way in which we don’t like, e.g., someone who cuts us off in traffic, plays loud music next to our picnic, or takes up too much time on an exercise machine at the gym. In such situations, the Them are not so much human beings as objects that can easily be ignored, insulted, or worse.

While we cannot completely overcome the basic instinct of distrust or tribalism that is hard-wired into our psyche, we can temper it by trying to see the world from the perspective of the other person, by trying to empathize rather than simply judging blindly. By doing so, we can begin to connect, to cut through the lines that separate us, to engage others not as an anonymous Them but as real people, to transform the sterile Us versus Them standoff into a simple We, We together, a relationship of honest connection that is infused with a measure of intimacy. After all, it is easier to prejudge an anonymous stranger than a friend or a neighbor.

Moreover, when we focus on our differences with others rather than our commonality, we do harm to ourselves by succumbing to arrogance or ignorance. In most cases other than facing truly pathological behavior, how can any one of us say that he or she is better than another person, that our “truth” is superior to that of another? Further, by dismissing others, we forfeit the opportunity to learn about what they can teach or show us about the world.

Nevertheless, as with schadenfreude, every person is susceptible to the tendency to prejudge others, or to simply dislike some people, be they strangers, politicians, fellow members of a group to which we belong, or even someone in our family. I am as vulnerable as most people to Us-versus-Them bias toward those whose ideas or actions I don’t like. I am all too familiar with emotions such as prejudice, irritability, and chauvinistic pride, and that predisposition likely is reflected in some of my posts. I am particularly sensitive to sanctimoniousness, the oily smugness of the True Believer that Eric Hoffer described so well in his classic book of that title.

Jesus supposedly said, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” which is fine in theory, but what if the neighbor lets his or her dog run loose and it attacks yours, has a “Make America Great Again” sign on the lawn, or is arrested for injuring someone while driving drunk. What then? Or, what if it isn’t a neighbor but a stranger we read or hear about in the news who sexually abuses children or who kills people in a mass shooting? How do we reconcile that sort of reality with the theory of intimacy and amity?

One approach is simply to accept the imperfectability of our species and of ourselves and do what we can to keep prejudice, dislike, or hatred from foaming up so much within us so that it perverts and poisons our relationship with the world. The closing words to the film “Chinatown” come to mind as one approach in accepting not only our own imperfectability but the ubiquity of pain and tragedy in the world: “Forget about it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.” Yet, at the same time the passivity implied in that quote seems closer to resignation than acceptance. Worse yet, if we “forget about” malevolence, that is, ignore it, then we are at risk of callousness, apathy, or moral vacuity.

Another approach is to try to follow the faint footpath that separates theory and reality. That means intentionally striving to attain an I-Thou intimacy with others while accepting the imperfectability of not just of our species but, more importantly, of ourselves. Thus theory can be our Guidestar to show us the direction. And at the same time, acknowledging the existence of inhumanity and wickedness around us gives us the wisdom to address it as we are able. If we can stay on that faint footpath, we at least have a chance to “walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of [good] in everyone.”