I probably value utilitarianism to an unreasonable degree. It's a nice packaging, maybe even an excuse, for the decisions I make in my life. If everything can be defined as a solid calculation, then everything has reason and purpose. Which when actually applied to the instances of my life where I evaluate an ethical conundrum, don't make sense at all. There's no processing or numerical association. I've run on instinct ever since I slammed my head in a Greek Island's. Regardless, I choose to believe the decisions I've made are based on the environemnt and aethsthetics I've chosen to come to utilitarian demands. On instinct, I've done “the math”.
Since I continue to believe this lie, I want to dig deeper into something that contradicts my position. My self-flaglation.
Self
There isn't a utilitarian argument for sacrificing self for the sake of others in every single scenario, the calculation doesn't add up. My self worth isn't worth nothing, but isn't considered of value in my day to day. Why do I continue to think this way despite the hours spent, the moments lived. I understand it, but can't comprehend it.
There is something to be said about the importance of self. However, what frustrates me is the weight that society has put on the individual. Its this construct that has defined generations of people, fighting for their freedoms and values and left many in their wake. So as an individual that wants to value community, either through actual definiton or otherwise have chosen to tie the value of self and ego to hate. That merely thinking of yourself over others is detrimental to an ethical society.
In reality what I have defined as selfishness in my head could be put into the modern term of self-love. It's perspective and context.
What holds me back from this position and perspective, is that I don't know if I ever could truly trust myself with such a responsibility. Being able to act of my own accord for my own sake. That's what the powerful do. That's what the hateful do. That's what the selfish do. Why am I special, or understanding, or empathetic enough to think I deserve anything. Isn't that the same mental illusion, the smoke and mirrors, that oppresors use every day of their lives?
This understanding comes from an over empathization of privledge. That I am purely based on my upbringing, my genetics, or my race. The credit that I give to everyone, but myself. It's important to acknowledge, but the entire point is that it's not a definition. If I can find empathy for others in the same position how can I possibly not do the same for myself. How have I fallen in this dry fucking well.
But Me
The saying is always about “live a mile in my shoes” so why don't I realize I understand my state of my mind, my environment, and my position better then anyone. That individuals should make selfish decisions in productive and ethical ways that no one else can do for you, even if they are detremental to others. I mean – the math can check out. Stealing to prevent starvation, taking a life to defend yourself, or something as simple as taking that last slice of pizza on a bad day. It's really not hard to think of selfish acts that I wouldn't consider selfish.
I guess it comes back to how I evaluate goals. That self is ill defined and hard to evaluate. That despite what people say, I have a hard time seeing myself as a real, sentient, physical being. With needs, wants, and desires. Yet I see bodies all around me, and I assume they got meat engines in 'em. They got hopes and dreams that they can tell me. Maybe they're even true, but that's not my job, that's not the privledge I give myself. So I guess I'll continue to self-deprecate, to moan, and groan even for the sake of others. The one selfish act I'll allow myself.
Guess it's selfish to hate myself.