Walking along the beltline tonight, I spot a raccoon that is strolling along the side of the pathway. It looks quite big in fur, as it eyes us curiously and almost seems to approach us a bit warily before walking toward a neighboring yard. Judy sees if she has any candy to feed the raccoon. But then I notice I have a stale bit of a bagel in my pocket from this morning, which I toss toward the raccoon. Still, it ignores us and prefers to stay where it is. Finally, we see two men behind us who tell us to perhaps beware of any animal that isn't afraid of human beings. Chances are that this animal might have rabies or some other disease. We trudge along, trying to keep on the path and silently agreeing that lack of fear may be an unnatural response in an animal.
I recall that in my early 20's my favorite book was Somerset Maugham's The Summing Up, the author's autobiography about his life in theatre, art and philosophy. Maugham's book had quite a few interesting gems in it. Among them, Maugham had written about how he tries to create characters that have dimensions to them, often contradictory and conflicting. Maugham has notoriously written here something to the effect that his characters have a mixture of some of the most disparate elements working together: fear, selfishness, nobility, sacrifice, anger, tolerance, humility, etc. Whereas I normally only see people at specific moments in time, Maugham tries to show the dimensions of personality in the pages of very entertaining books. He believed that writing in this way gave him a glimpse into the way people can have deep contrasts and contradictions co-existing within themselves.
I found myself benefitting from Maugham's perspective, because it gave me less temptation to try to reconcile contrasting parts of myself. When I witness a short story of his such as "Rain", I see a character who is supposedly amoral or lacking in morals (Sadie Thompson) with a large heart to get along with others, contrasted with a moralistic priest who tries to 'convert' Sadie into a narrow idea of good/bad. Which character possesses more depth? They both have depth and meaning to them, but the priest tries to repress that depth somehow...almost as though he were trying to lay himself on a Procrustean bed. Maugham often creates a contrast between characters who aren't particularly 'good' in morals yet possess a generosity of heart, with those who are staunch moralists yet have a 'tight' heart. It reflects a struggle, I think, between wanting to refine or perfect the self with the more spontaneous expression of feelings. At this point, I am not sure which is correct, but I like how Maugham suggests that all people lie on a spectrum. We are all essentially part heathen, part moralist, part spiritual, part material, and so on. And Maugham suggests through his characters that there is no reason to feel surprised to have these inner contradictory standpoints or values.
The philosopher Judith Butler, I think, expresses a similar sentiment, when she describes the notion of 'opacity' in her book Giving an Account of Oneself. For Butler, 'opacity' refers to the way that people can't truly know themselves in entirety, and only get glimpses of the self through these acts of 'giving account' of who they are to others. While I narrate my story, I can only be aware of the details that make sense to this present context and those who are in my audience. Butler believes that 'opacity' can be a useful moral concept, because it gives people humility to see that they can never be wholly knowable to themselves or others. I may say "I am this" today, but is this "I" going to be the same as the "I" I claim to be tomorrow? Probably it will likely change over a very short period of time. But this 'humility' takes the form of accepting others' opacity as well. For example, I see someone expressing anger, but then I ask: do I really know why they are angry? Can I conclude that they are "always angry" just because I see them angry in one instance of time or space? According to the view that we are 'opaque' to ourselves or others, we might be slower to react to anger or conclude that someone is 'an angry person'. In fact, anger can coexist with many layers of emotions, including confusion, pride, loneliness, or even longing for justice. For me to condemn or label someone as an angry person is oversimplifying a person's complex opacity.
Master Sheng Yen similarly recommends a nuanced view of compassion, where even criminals are seen as being subject to many layers of conditions. He remarks in Chan and Enlightenment that "When some people create unreasonable incidents or behave illegitimately toward us, in terms of reasonableness, they may have to be sent to prison. From the perspective of compassion, however, their offences may have arisen from their family background, social environment, or physical and psychological factors. So, from a different angle, we forgive them with empathy, and try to help them in various ways. This is called compassion." (p.79). I think one of the great things about Maugham's writing is that it depicts a real and deeply interesting take on compassion. This is not a compassion that tries to repress or moralize, but something that is open to the mysterious opacity of myself and others.
Butler, Judith, (2005), Giving an Account of Oneself. New York : Fordham University Press,
Sheng Yen (2014), Chan and Enlightenment. Taipei: Dharma Drum Publishing
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