I.
I was born into this world without my permission and so was everyone else. Some might find this unethical such as anti-natalists but I would disagree. Even if you do find it unethical, there’s only so much you can do about it. People will not stop having kids no matter how much you protest or disagree, so I think the next best thing might be to practice radical acceptance and find a different approach. (I realize this is probably a strawman of the anti-natalist movement and solutions)
Much like my existence, the things I use everyday exist without my permission. The above tweet illustrates that point quite well; everything around us and everything we use was built by hard work, advancement in technology by others, and knowledge we do not posses.
We actually don’t really know how the things we use work. I couldn’t tell you how exactly my car works or how my shower uses clean water or how the tooth brush I use was shipped through the global supply chain, etc. Sure we might have an intuition or two about some things, but for most items, it seems that we would struggle to even map one sentence onto how it works.
And I think that is quite beautiful. We have been given these objects we can kind of depend on that come with a set of small mimetic instructions and we just accept that. But we accept it because it makes our lives way better and allows us to live in ways that older generations couldn’t even fathom. All of this is given to us from a set of people that really really care about life and their work and the output they produce and we get to reap the benefits of that hard work everyday without asking for it. It was all just kind of handed to us with a gentle and acceptable manner.
II.
I think this could be one potential answer if someone is struggling to find purpose and/or meaning in their life: dedicate it to those that have had to exist and struggle to make your existence possible. Dedicate the work you do to those have have had to endure incomprehensive amounts of suffering for you to be in the position you’re in. Realize that without their existence, you would not exist either. Make their innovations, struggle, and lives meaningful. Doing so results in a cyclical pattern of a society of others making their existence mean something. You dedicate your work to my suffering and I dedicate my work to your suffering. Your pain and struggle grant purpose and dignity to my efforts, and vice versa, enriching our shared human experience.
It must be noted that not all suffering is beautiful, but that doesn’t mean one’s suffering doesn’t have to go in vein. The kind of suffering that comes to mind is something like The Holocaust where something like a seemingly infinite amount of suffering occurred without any real tangible meaning. This could be called Absurd Suffering, events that are so nightmarish-ish that it seems impossible to derive any meaning or value from it. Sure you could say we derived some lessons or innovations from WW2 and its conflicts, but I’m not sure if the holocaust was worth the sacrifice. But, it happened and now we must deal with it, so this is how.
From 4o: Absurdity, according to Albert Camus, is the confrontation between the human desire for meaning and the indifferent silence of the universe. We long for clarity, order, and answers, yet the world offers none—it remains cold, chaotic, and silent. This clash, this tension without resolution, is what Camus calls the absurd.
Another example would be a child getting cancer and passing away. These are the types of scenarios in which atheists might asks Christians something like, “if God exists, then why does he allow Absurd Suffering?”
I think we have an ethical responsibility to bear witness to Absurd Suffering. Without it, the suffering has gone in vein, not contributing to the externalities that bring beauty into the world.
I can imagine humanity stuffing such horrific events of Absurd Suffering into a box and storing them away, not because we want to forget, but because leaving them out in the open would be far too painful to endure. Every now and then we go into the attic and take a peak at them like on its anniversary or remembrance day, not in an endearing way, but more like it’s humanities way of saying “We know you’re still there, we still know how much you suffered. Don’t worry, we didn’t forget.” And the really old Absurd Suffering events that we never remember are still there in the attic somewhere, we just can’t seem to find them. Nevertheless, they’re still in there somewhere tucked away in the corner, still contributing to the structure of the place.
III.
And now, faced with our inheritance of objects and stories we barely understand, we’re faced with turning that fact into gratitude and grace. We can begin with a simple daily ritual: name something you used today, trace its journey in your mind, and honor the unseen work that brought it to you. This is one reason why I like prayer before eating: I get to recognize all that was sacrificed for the meal I’m about to eat. This includes the workers and their doing, as well as the plants and animals that were killed for the meal. We might shine light on the attic of memory by speaking aloud tragedies that risk fading. Share them so the boxes of absurd suffering do not collapse into nothingness. We might inscribe the names of those who have worked hard or suffered to make our existence possible into the margins of our work, reminding ourselves that every line of code, every piece of writing, every conversation continues their endowment. In doing so, our small acts of bearing witness gives gratitude and breathes life into purpose. And as this beautiful cycle loops, we build an state of meaning that outlasts any one of us. To exist gratefully, then, is to give birth again and again to hope and to honor the gift of our existence and those that have made it possible.
They made your existence possible and deserve a lifetime of gratitude.