Idealism Undone
by Alastair Su
“It’s just the same story as a doctor once told me,” observed the elder. “He was a man getting on in years, and undoubtedly clever. He spoke as frankly as you, though in jest, in bitter jest. ‘I love humanity,’ he said, ‘but I wonder at myself. The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular. In my dreams,’ he said, ‘I have often come to making enthusiastic schemes for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually have faced crucifixion if it had been suddenly necessary; and yet I am incapable of living in the same room with anyone for two days together, as I know by experience. As soon as anyone is near me, his personality disturbs my self-complacency and restricts my freedom. In twenty-four hours I begin to hate the best of men: one because he’s too long over his dinner; another because he has a cold and keeps on blowing his nose. I become hostile to people the moment they come close to me. But it has always happened that the more I detest men individually the more ardent becomes my love for humanity.” Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
Twenty-two is a wonderful age – I’m not going deny it. It’s an age where you’re still young enough to try new things and make mistakes; but at the same time, you’re also old enough to make decisions for yourself. And, if you’re still in school like me, it’s also a ripe age to ask the question: What is the purpose of my life, and where do I go from here?
It’s no surprise then, that for most like myself, twenty-two becomes an age of idealism. The problems of the world don’t appear burdensome or intractable – in fact, they might hardly considered problems at all. Instead, they are regarded as great causes for humanity to rally around: global concerns seeking global solutions. And I use the word “global” twice here with grim intent. Especially at places like Harvard, I find, if you attach the word “global” behind any other noun, it immediately gains a sense of worth: global health, global warming, global missions, global hunger, global education, global citizens.
I do not want to belittle any of these great causes, for they address concerns that are urgent and consequences are dire. After all, much good has been accomplished by international organizations like the United Nations and the individuals that compose them. Yet, at the same time, I realize that many of them are like Dostoyevsky’s doctor. I say this not as a detached observer, but because with some self-reflection, I find that I am among their number.
An idealist isn’t one who is attracted to great causes. If mankind had no visionaries, it would perish. Rather, an idealist is Dostoyevsky’s doctor: one who loves humanity but despises people. An idealist is one who is able to explain, with great flourish, the many needs of the world – AIDS, reforming our education system, solving the budget crisis – but has no love for his neighbor, and is at peace with the fact. He is moved by stories of children by injustice, but does not know their names, nor bothers to learn them.
For this reason, idealists cease to become idealists when a certain age is reached. They prefer to embrace other names: realist, pragmatic, or cynic. For any cause that does not value persons or remember names is no cause at all; and unable to sustain itself, the illusion falls apart. Idealism inevitably slides into indifference.
When Jesus approached someone, He never said: “Come, let us end poverty together,” or, “Let us discuss strategies for Christian ministry.” Rather, he addressed them lovingly, heard their stories and served their needs. He sat with them, laughed with them, ate with them, wept with them. And almost always, Jesus would address them by their names.
As our Lord has done, let us do likewise. We must love people first – humanity will come naturally afterwards.
