The better man

Rhona Canoy .

SO… We are all somewhat familiar with the premise that power and money can make men lose their minds. A premise we accept so casually and without question, maybe because we have seen it (and are seeing it) happen in front of our eyes. And we judge without much thought, without much consideration for the path which led to this madness, this mental affliction. On a side note, and for the sake of expediency, the term “man” in this column is not a gender reference but rather a general term for humankind.

The problem, I think, with power and money is that these are the desires which fuel fantasies. They are the benchmarks of what ordinary people define as success. Mind you, I say ordinary people. Which is what we all are. We see ourselves as ordinary, believing we don’t have enough money because we focus on what we think we should have but don’t. We see ourselves as ordinary, believing we don’t have power because other people lord it over us because we are inferior. I keep hearing ordinary people refer to themselves as lesser because of what they lack. Lesser because they live in shacks, lesser because they don’t earn much, lesser because they are farmers, lesser because they are vegetable vendors, lesser because they live in dire conditions.

And what is ordinary? If one were to consider the truth of the matter, very few men are extraordinary. Regardless of financial and social advantage, we are all ordinary people. We bleed when wounded, we feel intense pain when our fingers are caught in the car door. We catch cold when caught in a torrential rain. We feel sorrow when faced with the loss of a loved one. Ordinary is what we are. The few extraordinary people who have reached a higher level of humanity are truly to be emulated. The Dalai Lama (the real one, not the one appointed by the Chinese government), Mother Teresa, Bill Gates, Martin Luther King, Indira Gandhi. People who, in spite of their human flaws, have endeavored to be better men.

But what is a lesser man? People dream of becoming “somebody,” with images of big mansions, many cars in the garage, wearing expensive sunglasses and clothes, surrounded by servants–forgetting that those imaginary servants probably in real-life have the same fantasies and dreams. The material trappings of so-called success drive men to work hard (let’s not discuss whether they do it legally or otherwise) to make their dreams come true. Rarely do we hear people dream about becoming a philanthropist, helping others, or contributing to the community. We do hear of men dreaming to enter politics after they become “successful,” chasing after the power dragon, imagining how they’re going to sit in air-conditioned offices behind obscenely large desks, looking down at the ordinary people who deign to come to them seeking help.

Those who are born into privilege and wealth are more cavalier. Having power and money come naturally because that’s all they know. Of course, they have the disadvantage of not knowing what it is like to live a simpler, more basic lifestyle. I actually do know some people who are ignorant of public transport except for air-conditioned taxis. And generally speaking, these are the ones who draw a very distinct line between “them” and “us”. Once or twice a year, their exclusive socio-civic organizations will venture into the more bacteria-laden areas to hold charitable missions, I think to assuage the guilt they feel for being more privileged. Feeding malnourished kids one meal, or bringing medical aid for a day to those who can’t afford to go to the doctor serves, I suppose, as some form of atonement for being more fortunate.

I find that people who grew up resenting the deprivation from which they came become the worse men for it. There are those who swear to turn their backs on their past, becoming obsessed with gaining social acceptance among those perceived to be the influential and rich circle. These are the men who become cruel and oppressive, finding themselves in some kind of purgatory. Still not good enough for the circle they desire, and yet lording it over the circle they feel they have risen above. These are the ones who become bullies, who feel they are above the law, who feel entitled, who believe they don’t have to be accountable.

And yet people want to think they have it in them to be better men. Better than what, though? Better than others? Better than before? Better than they’ve ever been? Better than yesterday? The dream is to be seen, to be perceived as better–on the surface, from a very visible and materially quantifiable point of view. Why is it so difficult to dream of being a better version of ourselves? Quality versus quantity?

To be more in touch with the nobler parts of us. To be kinder, to be honest, to be compassionate, to be connected with our fellowman. But I suppose man is, by our very nature, selfish. It is mandated by the laws of survival that we think of ourselves first and foremost, and probably to think of ourselves only. Perhaps there is a part, too, that fears going back to where we came from. For those who were economically deprived, the nightmare is of losing all they worked so hard to gain. But then they also tend to turn their backs on those who still are in that difficult situation, refusing to be associated with people who were once not so different from them.

To gain fame and power gives man the illusion that a downfall can be averted. The desperate attempt not to fall from grace becomes all-encompassing and sometimes leads to ethical compromises we would not otherwise consider. “Kapit patalim” is even a widely accepted Filipino premise that a desperate situation excuses or justifies actions which would otherwise be morally unacceptable. The escape hatch which will excuse our most desperate actions. And frequently these desperate (or should I say despicable actions) hide behind a facade of hubris, an air of false bravado. And yet the worse actions of “kapit patalim” are not from those who have nothing, but rather from those who don’t want to go back to nothing.

In looking for the better man, it seems only better men can become better men. That’s a pretty tall order.