Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Perils of the well-intentioned

I don't like people who are good-intentioned, they are some of the most unpredictable and scary people I know. Once I visited a city that was renowned for its "nice" people. Driving there was a nightmare. Instead of behaving appropriately (and thereby predictably), they would go out of their way to "accommodate" other drivers, often leading to dangerous situations in which no one knew what was going on or who had the right of way.

One day on this most recent trip I was at the mercy of a well-intentioned driver. I was staying out in the countryside with some friends. To get anywhere, we had to rent a taxi. I needed to go into the city to run some errands so I called a cab. On the 40 minute ride into the city, my friend who more or less spoke the native language (expat from home, but of the same ethnicity) translated to me that the driver wanted the return fare, so offered to just drive us from place to place. I was fine with that and we went about our business, eating, shopping, and picking up stuff for the next few days. We told the cab driver to be on a look out for an ATM for my bank -- an international bank with many ATMs in the center of the city, but not out where we were staying. The reason I was so determined to go to my ATM was I had a special account that didn't charge me any foreign fees at all if I used their ATMs, whereas another ATM would charge me their fee plus my bank's fee, plus an additional 3% to my bank and I wanted to take out a large sum of money.

I needed to get money that trip because I needed local currency to pay the cab driver. He knew as much from my friend explaining that to him. We never passed an ATM during our errands, but we did pass by one on a side street just as we were leaving downtown. We told our cab driver to turn left, but he hesitated too long, then thought it too difficult, and continued driving, assuring us that there were plenty of my bank's ATMs on the route home that would be on the right side of the street -- we wouldn't have to go out of our way and could keep the fare down. We showed him the logo on my bank card just to be sure he understood and he said that he was 100% certain that there would be an ATM for my bank on the way home. I didn't insist on going back to the ATM because I wanted to believe him, and I didn't want to insult my friend, who the previous evening had been deriding all of the other expats who treat the natives as second class citizens in their own country.

My friend trusted the cab driver because he was so good-intentioned (had "helped" us "not get ripped off" before with a local tradesman earlier in the day), and continued to relay messages to me about how we were "certain" to find an ATM, until suddenly the cab driver wasn't certain at all.

After about 20 minutes of driving when we were about to leave the outskirts of the city, the cab driver started trying to get me to use any ATM we passed. I hated him by then. He apparently knew by that time that he had made a mistake and didn't want to bear the consequences of it by not being paid in his preferred form of local currency. I insisted that we keep trying to find my bank. I was angry, I told my friend to tell him that while he was "saving" us a pittance with the local tradesman, he was costing me roughly the cost of that long cab ride or more in fees. Plus I was "certain" that there was an ATM right by my friend's house, something the cab driver vehemently denied, although I turned out to be right.

It wasn't the money, of course. If we had never seen that ATM from my bank on the way out, I would have gladly paid the additional fees for the convenience of using another ATM. I was mainly angry because I had trusted the cab driver in a half-heated attempt to be agreeable.

I should have realized that the cab driver's "helping" us meant that he was a well-intentioned person. I would have preferred a neutral cab driver, or even a crooked one over this guy -- someone whose self-interest would have made him go back to that first ATM so he would be sure he would get paid. Instead I got someone who presumed to know better than I did what was best for me. It's that presumption that I hate most. The good-intentioned think that they are being a sort of saint, when really they are just arrogant meddlers.

See also imperialism.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Song: Change your evil ways

I'm going to take a little winter break from posting (recycling old posts, intermittent posts, etc.).

But first, a song.


Interestingly, I always thought this song was about a truly evil person, like voodoo magic style evil or something? It turns out it is just about a woman who does not cook and clean for her man that way that he expects her to do, instead hanging out with her girlfriends Jeanie and Joan. I don't take the lyrics as suggesting that she is literally "evil", but it is interesting to think about the extent to which the way we were socialized affects our understandings of right and wrong. See also Jonathan Haidt's work.

Monday, December 22, 2014

Delighting in the pains of others

“I am convinced we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the real misfortunes and pains of others; for let the affection be what it will in appearance, if it does not make us shun such objects, if on the contrary it induces us to approach them, if it makes us dwell upon them, in this case I conceive we must have a delight or pleasure of some species or other in contemplating objects of this kind”

-- Edmund Burke

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Moved

I've spoken a little bit before about being moved. What I mean by that is feeling emotions as a result of some stimulus. It differs from empathy in that I am feeling my own emotions, my own reaction to things as opposed to imagining what someone else is feeling. It is almost always a result of music or film (is it the music in the film that does it?). I can also be moved by seemingly most other things that normal people are moved by -- shows of heroism, patriotism, gratitude, injustice, gross inefficiency, and probably some others that aren't springing immediately to mind.

It's a very odd phenomenon to feel moved. I can turn it off, but if I am in tune with it, it is as if the feeling wells up inside of me, typically inspiring me to some sort of action. It often feels like an increase in adrenaline -- a sense of the necessity of action. This added adrenaline is most often accompanied by a sense of purpose -- like my path has suddenly been made clear. If I wanted to get really caught up in it, who knows where it would take me. Most of the time it dwindles as quickly as it comes on -- too short a time span to really act. For instance, during my trip, I hired impoverished guides to take me around all day. One of them I liked so well, I talked to him about his future and whether he should start his own tour company. He said that that he didn't have the capital to do it. The next day I thought about it and whether I should invest in his company, or at the very least set up a website for him with his contact information because all he needed was an email account and a Trip Advisor page to double his business. The next day as I was motoing about the countryside, I happened upon this brilliant sightseeing must-see, not many kilometers from where we had been the day before. I suddenly felt that he had done a poor job with me and was glad that I hadn't had time to act on being "moved" by the gratitude and sense of inefficiency from the previous day.

I am not moved by certain things that might move other people. I am not moved by signs of want, not beggars or poor starving orphans or slums or anything (although I often "give" on little more than a whim). I am not outraged by unfairness, in fact I embrace it as I do death. I suppose it's an odd distinction to make between being moved by perceived injustice but not unfairness. I guess what I mean is that there is quite a deal of luck/context involved in every aspect of life, and that people cannot therefore expect the same outcomes from the same actions. In contrast, I perceive injustice as someone putting a thumb on the scale, artificially enabling one outcome over another -- an intentional interference thwarting the natural course of things. I guess it's because I don't mind risk, it actually gives me a thrill, but I have no desire to play a rigged game. If I thought my life was rigged, I would probably kill myself and/or others. It's only because I think I can (and most often do) play the game better than others that it keeps my interest enough to persist in playing it.

But what causes this sensation of being "moved" and why am I almost as susceptible to it as most people? Maybe it provides an emotional glue to facilitate group work and cooperation. There are certain things in this world that are impossible to do without help. Maybe those people who are capable of being moved had an evolutionary advantage particularly in small groups of people like isolated clans and tribes. And of course I take advantage of the phenomenon by trying to induce it in others to get them to do what I want. I guess that is what is meant by being a "charismatic" leader.

I'd be interested in hearing whether the other disordered or non neurotypicals are also susceptible to being "moved."

Saturday, December 20, 2014

If it feels this good getting used...

I thought this recent comment on an old post was an interesting perspective:

You act like ALL sociopaths are abusers. That ALL of them are born to hurt and kill. You don't even considered human. ERROR! The whole reason why I'm alive right know is a sociopath. I've had a terrible and abusive life, but because of many reasons my sociopath friend is interested in me. The moments I was about to kill my self he told me "No. Why do you want to die when you know me?" I tried explaining to him all the benefits my death would bring him, but he comely explained that all of it's short term, where me living would be long term. This may seem so terrible to you, but I have PTSD and it's not for me. To me I don't have anything good about me, I suck at everything. I only harm everyone I'm around. To him I'm full of opportunities to benefit him in some way. To him I'm useful. To him it's a game of seeing how long he can hug me before I flinch away because of sexual abuse that happened to me. Sure, his motives isn't like yours or anyone else because they have motive but it's enough to help save a life. How could someone be evil who's keeping me alive at this moment in time?
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