Sunday 2 September 2012

The art of selflessness

I knew she'd do it.

We'd both protested with equal conviviality that either room would be absolutely fine; furiously agreed there was very little difference between the two. But still, when she announced that she was keen to get started on her unpacking and took herself upstairs, I knew she'd settle into the slightly smaller room of the two.

By nature, we humans can be pretty selfish. And oftentimes we need to be - to drive our careers forward, to ensure we're in the right relationships (for the ultimate benefit of both parties), to achieve personal goals and so on. But when it doesn't really matter (such as when there's nothing more than a few additional cubic feet of space for a few nights up for grabs), what is it that drives (most of) us to be selfless, I wonder? Is it as simple as it seems: an altruistic tendency, married with a desire to see our friends in a state of happiness? Or is there something deeper: is it the kick that comes from knowing you made that friend happy? I've always maintained that volunteering for a charity can be quite a selfish act: the pleasure that one derives from feeling virtuous is highly rewarding in and of itself. A fortunate working of the human psyche, no doubt.

But could it be something more? Is it simply that our parents taught us to put others first? Possibly, but that doesn't always ring true (see the examples above in which we have to harness a bit of selfishness and our parents (mostly) applaud us for doing so). Maybe we're trying to chalk up "good deeds" to enable us to stand at the pearly gates safe in the knowledge that we haven't turned up empty-handed. Perhaps it's for the immediate karma: our good turn today means the dice will roll in our favour another day. Or maybe it's not for our future, but for our past selves: are we still trying to please our childhood authority figures? Did the teacher see us playing fair with the other kids? Did the sports coach spot us supporting the weaker members of the team? Did the lady in the library notice when we put back that other book that had been lazily cast aside on the returns pile, and not just our own?

All of the above, of course, beg the psychologist's fundamental question: would we still have done it if we didn't think we were being watched? Most of us would like to think we would have; we're sure that the recognition was merely a desirable by-product of the selflessness. And quite possibly it was.

However, I digress. Back to the root cause of my room-selecting friend's selfless choice: did she want to make me feel happy? I'm sure she did - after all, we're friends. And no doubt her parents would have been pleased with her behaviour. But was there something else underlying the action? To be sure, somebody was "watching" when she made her decision - but nobody she needed to impress. And she might have gained a cosmic point from her action - but it won't exactly be significant enough to influence ethereal powers.

No, I've decided that this kind of action is not (subliminally I'm sure) driven by the consequences of the decision, but rather the consequences of the alternative decision. Had she taken the bigger room, what would I have thought? How would that have changed my view of her? In a situation such as this when it really didn't matter who chose where, the potential opinion shift was far greater than those few extra cubic feet - and so the decision was easy. It wasn't because her parents taught her to defer to others before herself; it wasn't because she thought someone somewhere would be proud of her for making that choice: it was because she wanted me to know she wasn't going to be a selfish friend; that she wouldn't place her own desires above mine, and that she didn't want me to think she saw herself in any way more important or more deserving than me.

Well, at least that's what I'd hope would have been my motivation if I'd gone up the stairs first - because I'd have made exactly the same choice.

So, dear reader, how shall we end tonight? Well, I've done a lot of reading over the past few years about how it's good to be assertive, to ask for what you want, and to be sure to put yourself first (mostly related to the world of work, granted, but in other circumstances too). But this little tale of mine has made me think: quietly, and with nobody watching, sometimes we should all be a little bit more selfless - not just for the particular benefit at the time, but for the message that will resonate a long time afterwards. Sometimes it's worth passing on the few extra cubic feet. Your 5' 1" friend might not need it, but she sure will appreciate the sentiment.