Opinion Mourn for the lost connection
Education needs to sensitise us to mourning and then, develop a thoughtful response that is grounded in the times and in the world that we inhabit
What does it then mean to inhabit the world whose permanence one is not sure of? The present human condition is marked by a loss of faith in the permanence of the world. The continuing violence in several places, climate change and ecological crises are chipping away at the assuredness in the sheer presence of the world. What is the nature of pain we encounter in the face of this transitory world? The human condition is characterised by a distinct sense of haphazardness towards this predicament — we seem to be assured of our ability to bandage injuries. Under the moral injunction to act, we take recourse to hasty, unexamined actions, which are sometimes more band-aid than salve.
The call to act in the face of crisis is high enough to foreclose a patient understanding of concerns that demand time. This seems to remove empathy from our understanding of the state of affairs. Hannah Arendt’s account of human action is prescient in this respect. Human beings indeed are blessed with this unique capacity to act and bring something new to the world. However, paradoxically, these actions can become self-defeating, as they can set off a chain of events, which are not only beyond their own control but can also result in self-inflicted catastrophes. The unintended effects of human action, as history has shown, have resulted in unprecedented devastation. At the same time, Arendt underlines the significance of common “human” experiences, especially with those whose perspectives may differ from ours. In recent years, the Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek has warned against the anti-theoretical edge of urgent injunctions, finding value in patient learning and understanding of the problem at hand, instead of giving in to the impulse to act immediately.
The crises are exploited by the state-market nexus. It feeds on our anxieties by propelling an urgency to act and save the world. Ironically, its other side is systematically involved in developing a thick immunity to this decaying world — bottled water, air purifiers, air conditioners, and gated communities. A lot of technological solutions to ecological crises are not based on the connection between human beings and nature.
Education has always been seen as directly or indirectly responsible for whatever is happening in the world and, therefore, is expected to develop an immediate response to this crisis. Consequently, awareness programmes seem to have received traction in recent times, especially with regard to ecological, social and cultural concerns. But how effective are these as “sensitisation” efforts? Imbuing education with a proactive action plan to avert or delay catastrophes has become the focus of policy and practice. Education does have a role in mitigating or preventing crises. However, the ways in which unrealistic expectations are often placed on education should be of concern to us. Education is not expected to frame a well-thought-out response that ensues because of staying with the problem, reflecting and thinking about its contours and encountering the “affect” that it generates. Instead, it is handed the charge of fixing the problem with implementable, operational plans. Unwittingly, this fake urgency to act, even with the right intentions, only furthers the artificial divide that is often made between thinking, feeling and doing.
What does it then mean to inhabit the world whose permanence one is not sure of? What is the nature of pain we encounter as we become cognisant of this decaying world? In a brilliant three-page essay, ‘On Transience’, Freud engages with humans’ inability to experience joy or the capacity to love in the face of impending decay. The fact that the loved object will go away, and is transitory, disturbs the worth of that object. For Freud, mourning helps one reconcile with the loss and recalibrate oneself with the changing times.
It may be counter-intuitive to times of hyperoptimism and crude arrogance in our intellect and energies, but we first need to develop cognisance of what we have lost at the level of affect — to feel the loss and let that feeling inform actions. Instead of hiding our contradictions with happiness curriculum and frenzied poster competitions and marches on cleanliness, climate change and carbon footprint, education needs to sensitise us to mourning and then, develop a thoughtful response that is grounded in the times and in the world that we inhabit.
The writer is professor, Institute of Home Economics, University of Delhi