Skip to main content

Accepting Cruelty

At the heart of every human person is an expectation of conflict. For their psychological well-being, humans need to engage in tribalism. But out in the world, they're expected to be civil and deferential most of the time. They're pressured to engage with outsiders politely. It's a big pressure, and it's counterintuitive. Given the opportunity to treat outsiders however they want with no consequences, humans reliably default to cruelty.

Look how people behave online. Behind the relative anonymity the internet provides, people drop their politeness. They're eager to do so. Being nice must be a tremendous inconvenience. When the free opportunity to insult, accuse, shun, or ridicule presents itself, the temptation is too great for many. In fact, using the word "temptation" here may be a category error. Humans aren't tempted to violence; violence is inalienable from humanity. It's fundamental. Evidence abounds that H. sapiens doesn't want to use freedom to create equity. Instead, it wants to use freedom to create disparity.

Nothing can suppress humans' violent urges, but social connectedness can interrupt them. It can even deter violent actions. People who are isolated are at increased risk of becoming victims of violence. I am a disconnected person. I am also Other, and I trip people's safeguards against Otherness the way a wave of the hand can trip a motion sensor. Because of this, I represent the opportunity for catharsis to people who are frustrated under the yoke of civility. People must look at me with relief. Here, in me, is someone they aren't accountable to, someone they can fail, someone they can justifiably exile. I'm strange and I don't belong. It must be immensely satisfying to people to have before them someone they can abuse with impunity.

When I was young, I didn't understand how people could deny mercy to others while expecting to receive mercy themselves. That seemed like a conundrum because I took it for granted that people wanted to be fair. I know better now. Fairness is another way in which humans talk about violence.  "Whom," they ask, "is it fair that we commit violence upon?"  This is the essential human question. It's under discussion every day in every society. Nowhere is it seriously considered that we should denounce violence altogether. If you want proof, try going online and arguing for unconditional universal pacifism. Or go down to the VFW and start talking about treating the nation's enemies fairly.

I don't blame humans for being human. How could I? I know it is in their nature to kill each other. I understand why they treat me the way they do, why they can't treat me any other way, and I can abide being a pariah. I don't feel the urge for violence. I feel no need to participate in power struggles. As difficult as it can be, I'm capable of accepting humans for what they are. I'm capable, but I often fail. And if I do accept them, acceptance is as far as I can go. I accept human cruelty the way I accept death. I appreciate what's beautiful to me about the world despite the people it contains. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Man Is Not Great: The Evolution of Anthropocentrism

Why do humans care whether their species is special? Why are they so invested in their specialness that they're uncomfortable with the idea that they aren't? Why is it a bitter pill to swallow that humans aren't uniquely important in the universe, that they aren't the intended end of evolution, and that their wondrous and diverse subjective experiences emerge from the same physical processes observable in "lower" animals? I think that the maladaptive human tendency to insist upon their specialness in the universe is an extension of an adaptive tendency to self-advocate in their tribes. Consider fear. The predisposition to turn around when you feel like something might be behind you is likely to save you when there really is something there. Most of the time, when you can't help but turn around on the dark basement steps, there's no threat. From an evolutionary perspective, it’s better to turn unnecessarily than to do nothing in a moment of danger. That...

The Mystery of Friendship

Friendship looks good on paper.  People appear to enjoy their friendships and to want, or at least to expect, to have friends.  I don't have this experience.  I don't want friends. It took me a long time to understand that I have no desire for friendship.  As a child I thought I had to seek friendships because everyone around me wanted them.  It was part of trying to pass; I know that now but I didn't then.  I wasn't aware that other people didn't have to try to be like each other.  How could I have been?  I had no basis for comparison besides myself so I assumed everyone was like me.  I thought I was neurotypical and this was conducive to my feelings of inferiority.  I didn't know why I was so bad at being like everyone else.  It was because they were being themselves and I wasn't.  But I wouldn't realize that until long after my formative years were over. I was a very confused child.  I had few friendships and I wasn...

George Versus Lennie

People seem to believe that you can't have cognitive deficits if you don't seem stupid. The image many carry in their minds of a person with cognitive problems is an image of someone whose internal dysfunction necessarily finds clear outward manifestation in unusual physical proportions, motor skills, vocal quality, and speech patterns. Less objectively, it's an image of a cartoon idiot: Lennie from Of Mice and Men as depicted in Looney Tun es .  This is a suboptimal situation.  My autism involves some cognitive impairment. Because I'm intelligent and articulate, even paraprofessionals have trouble remembering or, in fact, believing that I'm not as able to apply my intellect as ordinary people are. I'm smart, I'm not Lennie, but I'm not George either. The dichotomy between those characters is the only way many people can understand the difference between neurotypical people and people with cognitive or neurodevelopmental disabilities. If I'm n...