Throwing Stones in Glass Houses
I was reading an article in The Atlantic, I have linked it here, but in short it was about how it is tempting to shame and blame individuals for their reckless actions in this pandemic (not wearing a mask, going to a crowded places, etc.) when we should really be a blaming the institutions that put us in this place: “Don’t blame people making bad choices, look at the fact that all they have are bad choices.” The pandemic creates psychological murkiness for humans and in the face of that murkiness the process of making ethical decisions, or judging risks, becomes murky as well.
Later in the article a point the author makes really hits home: “Most people congregating in tight spaces are telling themselves a story about why what they are doing is okay. Such stories flourish under confusing or ambivalent norms.”
I am the first to play the blame/shame game. I am so angry at all the folks out there whose action put me in danger, who are only prolonging this pandemic. And yet, if I am being honest with myself, a younger, healthier Alana –a collage or highschool version of myself — would be telling similar stories, making similar justifications for cramming into a club like a sardine: The government said this is ok…I am not breaking rules, if I am not breaking rules, my actions must be ok.
This mentality, transcends pandemic logic, it permeates my whole life: I like to think of myself as a ‘good Alana’, protected by my goodness from punishment and pain, from low births and hardships. In my mind, I justify all my actions, tell stories about how all I do is okay, how I maintain my Alana goodness. When I used to use people for sex, I told myself it was consensual, they agreed to keep it casual, of course what I did was okay. When I would emotionally cheat on partners, I would avoid physically cheating –there was a ‘line’ I wouldn’t cross (a line of my own creation and definition, but nonetheless a line) so of course my behavior was okay. When I push Eric to endure his terrible jobs to support me, our lifestyle, I tell myself he is willing, or we all need to rely on someone, or its not using someone if you love them, so of course I am A-Okay.
From my own side, my reasons are always justified. I am above reproach. But this world, it doesn’t operate according to my side, my stories and justifications are not the arbiters of consequence. Calling myself a ‘good Alana’ doesn’t protect me from the consequences of my actions any more than the stories those folks cramming themselves into small spaces tell protect them from catching Covid, or prolonging the pandemic for all. We all tell stories, but no matter the story we are subjects to karma, we are subjects of a world that offers no safety.
