I try my best to be a good person. When I buy something with cash and get too much change, I always go back to the register to sort it out. I sort my disposables into trash, recycling and compost bins, and I make sure to double-check where greasy pizza boxes and bottle caps should go. I turn off the lights before leaving a room, and I’ll choose to put on a sweatshirt rather than crank up the heat.
Sometimes, though, I feel like I’m a bad person. I use plastic bags at the grocery store instead of the reusable bags I have in my apartment. When someone approaches me on the street to talk about his or her cause, I lie and say I’m in a hurry. I enjoy listening to rap and hip-hop, genres notorious for lyrics that objectify and belittle women. Many of the electronics I own are produced by foreign suppliers with questionable labor practices.
The university community is filled with students who fit the archetype of the idealistic activist trying to make the world a better place. These students are rigorous in self-discipline and firm in their convictions. While I don’t necessarily consider myself part of this group, I evaluate my decisions in the context of the collective moral compass that it provides.
When I examine the “bad” things I regularly choose to do, my first thought is to try rationalizing them. This quickly falls apart because it’s impossible to capture the plethora of judgments I make in a self-consistent value system. How could it be that I take the time to recycle but don’t avoid using plastic bags? In this light, many of my choices seem arbitrary and rooted in habit or laziness.
My next step is to resolve to make myself a better person. The only way to do this is to immediately correct all of the moral missteps I have been making. My thoughts come in rapid-fire: Today I’ll bring reusable bags to the store. Yes, I’d love to stop and hear about the work Greenpeace is doing. Who needs Apple products anyway? Will my roommates mind if I keep the thermostat at 59? Maybe I’ll be a vegan.
My motivation lasts all of about a day, and then I realize my plan is no less silly than the rationalization I tried beforehand. There are simply too many issues to be concerned about. Trying to address all of them through the decisions you make will drive you crazy, and you’ll miss out on a lot. As an example, I know somebody who boycotts Thanksgiving because of some detail about the original feast in 1621. This brings me back to square one.
For anybody else who has experienced a similar cycle of guilt, I’ll share a conclusion that has given me solace: In life, you have to pick your moral battles. You should accept the reality that moral perfection is impossible and focus on a handful of issues you really care about.
I try to achieve this through the time I put into a particular student nonprofit organization. You might do this through your political activism, choice of diet or religious affiliation. Whatever your cause is, I believe you can do more good by taking ownership of a few key issues than by half-heartedly addressing many.
Kevin Hogan is a senior computer engineering major. He can be reached at khogandbk@gmail.com.