Sense of Decency

Listening to others, seeing things through their eyes.

Invisible man in the median, Seattle 2015. Photo © Jim McKeever.

By JIM McKEEVER

We create false worlds to survive.

I guess this has always been the case, human nature and all. But as humanity and collective empathy crumble around us, the false worlds we create have become more apparent. And more dangerous.

How much time, energy and money do we devote to things that distract us from the real world?

Sports. Netflix. Amazon. Alcohol. “Reality” TV. Social media and other addictions.

Meanwhile, wars, suffering, starvation and death are all around us — not exactly hiding in plain sight, given the reach of technology. On Instagram and TikTok these days, it doesn’t take much effort to find horrific photos and videos of torture, death and destruction.

But most of us look away, building a wall, as it were, around our hearts and minds.

Our souls as gated communities.

But walls and gates not only keep “bad” things out, they keep good things in — unused, wasted.

Is this self-preservation, or just plain selfish?

I’m just as guilty as anyone else. 

Every year I care way too much about my fantasy football team, a hobby even more questionable than investing huge amounts of emotion into a real team of millionaires that actually competes on a field.

I don’t have to look far to see people avoiding reality in other ways — gambling, obsessing over their personal appearance or the latest celebrity “influencer,” posting and sharing insipid comments on Facebook or Nextdoor.

Whatever happened to “live deliberately” and “The unexamined life is not worth living”? 

Are we that far gone as a culture, as a species, that most of us are just in it for ourselves?

Where is the line separating self-preservation from selfishness? 

For decades, bookstores have offered entire sections of shelves devoted to “Self Help.”  Why is there no such thing as a “Help Others” section?

Maybe we rationalize our distractions, these false worlds, as an attempt to seek “balance” in our lives. In some cases, that’s a defensible argument. 

There are good people among us who are in the midst of a particularly difficult time emotionally, physically or financially, and cannot cope with what’s going on out there.  

I have empathy for them — but not for those who simply “don’t want to deal with it” and go on their merry way, living what amounts to an unexamined, shallow life.

Which brings me to some simple suggestions on how to engage with and confront the real world.  

— Seek out photos and videos from journalists all over the world showing suffering and death caused by people in power. Don’t look away, as tempting as it is. This is reality.

— Initiate a conversation with someone who doesn’t look like you. Or live like you. 

— Find a community of people who are trying to do something good for others, especially those who don’t look or live like you.

— Don’t settle for simple answers that fit your existing beliefs. Question everything and everybody, especially those you agree with.

— Interact with people who are unhoused, the men and women holding cardboard signs at street corners.

— Become active in politics, at any level.

— Look up. Look around. Pay attention.

Joan Báez once said, “Action is the antidote to despair.” 

It’s also the antidote to fear.

Jim McKeever is a co-founder of Sense of Decency.

6 thoughts on “What world do you choose to live in?

  1. gallery217 says:

    A thoughtful essay, Jim, as always. Your suggestion that we “look around and pay attention” reminds me of a Mary Oliver poem, The Summer Day, which you may know. (The formatting is off, here, unfortunately).

    Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down— who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don’t know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

    Willson Cummer
    https://www.WillsonCummer.com

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    1. Jim McKeever says:

      Thank you, Willson, and I certainly do know that poem — the first time I heard it was in 2011 during freshman convocation at my youngest son’s college, shared by one of the speakers. Oliver’s last lines resonate, and I think of them often. I’m not sure what this says about me, but I read the local obituaries every day — a stark reminder of Oliver’s penultimate line, and for me an incredible motivator, odd as it seems. Thanks for reading and commenting!

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  2. Dale Avers says:

    thoughtful, essay, Jim . Thank you. We all make too many excuses to justify looking away. Thank you for helping us truly SEE.

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    1. Jim McKeever says:

      Thank you, Dale. A friend passed along an opinion piece in the NY Times (David Brooks) that included a reference that will stick with me. “The greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see something, and tell what it saw in a plain way,” the Victorian art critic John Ruskin wrote. “Hundreds of people can talk for one who can think, but thousands can think for one who can see.”

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  3. jbwoodisgood says:

    Deep essay Jimmy!

    Hope you are feeling healthy and enjoying a mild CNY winter…. I’m in my last semester of an MS program at UConn for Energy and Environmental Management. The degree adds a bow around my career and I hope to use it for more work on behalf of the planet till my 80’s.

    The world I choose to live in is one free from labels. There is an entire industry dedicated to labeling. Generations. Illnesses. Trends. Politicos. A label becomes a talk. The talk becomes a book. The book becomes a seminar. The seminar becomes a movie… and it’s all gaslighting.

    My business career has been colored by being a “late stage baby boomer” who has had to deal with the effects of “the greatest generation”. I have developed a deep disdain for these so called greatest generation people. Not to dismiss the turmoil or challenges they navigated – that they seemingly get a free pass on the turmoil and challenges they leave behind.

    One such example is smog. The first mention of smog happened in London in the 1940’s. In the USA the first detection of smog was in LA in 1943. I started working on earth issues in the mid 70’s. So at the very least the greatest generation had a 30 year head start to clan up their fossil fuel dependence. Did they? No. Rather they amped it up! And here I am some 50 years later working on the same issues. And? Being blunted at times by the fragments of greatest generation who hide behind religion and say it’s god’s way and god will clean it up.

    The greatest generation heated the planet and created a massive global climate problem. Climate impacts that would take epochs or 10’s of thousands of years are happening in our lifetime. And we get gaslit at every turn. Distracted by stuff like Super Bowl or whatever might be “trending” on social media.

    The democracy we have enjoyed is threatened by similar gaslighting. In what century could an insurrectionist reverse the belief of 30% (at least) of the population from witnessing with their own eyes the miscreants and traitors who attacked the capitol into political prisoners or “tourists”? Gaslighting. Collective well organized gaslighting facilitated by social media. Every two years the congress kicks up dust vs social media apps and nothing ever happens.

    Despite my commitment and interest in addressing issues involving the environment I realize my efforts add up to spit in the ocean. I know my efforts are shunned in favor of safe topics like the weekly basketball game or some lost puppy dog who found its way home. Your article points out the importance of engagement.

    Engagement is a victim of these times. So many people are navel gazing as they illustrate their addiction to their phones and whatever FaceFraud or some app is scrolling by them. They miss the beauty or ill of their environment and have a world limited to a phone screen. Unprecedented.

    In 2022 when I ran Boston, in the middle of the pack, around mile 2, all of us shoulder to shoulder, some gal in front of me turns around to take a selfie. Nearly getting run over. She created chaos. For what? A selfie. Later in the race about half a mile outside of Wellesley I could hear the cheering gauntlet of gals. A guy I was running next two had his buds in. I told him to take them out and listen. As we got closer I told him he may want to rerun the gauntlet – nothing like it in running. He thanked me for telling him to take out his buds. The guy engaged. He was sterilizing his Boston experience listening to something else besides what the roads had to offer.

    I see lots of crazy stuff with phones. It’s sad. I’ve had a tendency to park my phone for long periods of time during the day. People get a bit miffed when i don’t respond to them in short order. I explain that I had my phone parked. I usually get chastised. This is remarkable to me. Considering how much we got done in the pre smart phone era! I don’t recall getting lost. Hahahahaha.

    And I am not anti-technology. I was a CIO for 12 years! The tool is consuming the user not viceversa. And the tool is part of the reason people cannot engage on substantive issues. Imagine if the tool was used to resolve issues.

    Anyway, sorry for the long response here. I love your writing and the subjects you take on. I’m thinking about my future post graduation in May and one of the activities may involve a climate blog or something akin to what you do. We’ll see!

    Stay well – hope you are running easy!

    John

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    1. Jim McKeever says:

      Thank you for all of that, John. I am in agreement, obviously, and it’s great to hear you’re still out there living truthfully and, as Oliver Sacks said, “a sentient being, a thinking animal” engaged with the world. That guy in Boston at Wellesley owes you big time! Marathons are a thing of the past for me, but I’m still out there for the health and social aspect of it. Take good care and keep up the good work!

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