by Theodore Dalrymple (June 2008)
We are enjoined, when we suffer or feel unhappy (which are not necessarily
quite the same thing, of course), to consider those who are yet worse off than
ourselves. This is supposed to relieve and console us, but it rarely does. The
most that it achieves is to make us feel guilty that we are so miserable over
comparative trifles when others have so many worse travails than ours; and this
in turn makes us feel more wretched than ever. Moreover, there is a curious
moral asymmetry at work: while the thought that there are always people worse
off than ourselves is supposed to be edifying, the thought that there are
always people better off than ourselves is not. Indeed, it is the very reverse,
a powerful stimulus to resentment, the longest-lived, most gratifying and most
harmful of all emotions.
As children, many of us were told to finish what was on our plate because there were so many hungry people in the world who would have been grateful for what we left. I confess that, at a very early age, I was puzzled by this line of moral reasoning: I did not see how the hungry people of Africa would be helped if I stuffed food I really did not want down my protesting gullet. But a home is not a parliament, and I did, more or less, what I was told.
Youth, it is often said, is a generous age, fully of pity and compassion. I do not agree: I think it is mainly an age of self-pity, when one is inclined to imagine that the problems of growing up are the greatest problems in the world. 1968 in Paris, for example, was all about self-pity, not about making the world a better place. You can see from the photographs that the student rioters were spoilt and narcissistic children, posing carefully for the photographers.
As children, many of us were told to finish what was on our plate because there were so many hungry people in the world who would have been grateful for what we left. I confess that, at a very early age, I was puzzled by this line of moral reasoning: I did not see how the hungry people of Africa would be helped if I stuffed food I really did not want down my protesting gullet. But a home is not a parliament, and I did, more or less, what I was told.
Youth, it is often said, is a generous age, fully of pity and compassion. I do not agree: I think it is mainly an age of self-pity, when one is inclined to imagine that the problems of growing up are the greatest problems in the world. 1968 in Paris, for example, was all about self-pity, not about making the world a better place. You can see from the photographs that the student rioters were spoilt and narcissistic children, posing carefully for the photographers.