In order to avoid too many days without a post, here is a piece I wrote yesterday for somebody else’s (much better known) site. It may or may not end up being used, so I’ll enter it here for now. Obviously, I’m having a hard time getting motivated to blog. I apologize for this rather pedantic essay, which is out of character from what I normally aim for here. It’s the best I can do right now, whether for my site or anyone else’s. I admit it’s essentially filler. Hopefully, I’ll get past my funk and feel like writing something more heartfelt before too long.
Humility too often sounds like a dirty word in our culture. It goes against the dominant values of competition, self-promotion, and egotism. Prominent figures seldom exhibit anything like it. Sometimes we see weak attempts at false modesty, but only rare and special leaders are truly humble. The Dalai Lama comes to mind, but not many others.
This is unfortunate. Humility not only fosters cooperation within society, it promotes mental health. Alcoholics Anonymous has figured this out, and of course most spiritual systems advocate against excessive pride. But as a general principle of psychiatric wellness, we seldom hear of it.
The problem is that people misunderstand the word. We hear talk about the importance of self-esteem, and we suspect humility implies lack of belief in oneself. But the truth is we can’t be genuinely humble without first being confident of our worth. We all understand that the people who talk themselves up the most are often the ones who feel the most insecure. The converse, also true, is less well known. Those who feel more love and respect for themselves have less concern about proving themselves to society.
My dictionary defines humility as “a modest or low view of one’s importance.” It is easy to get caught up in the phrase ‘modest or low view’ and miss the fact that it refers to downsizing our opinion of our importance; not our opinion of our selves.
How important is any human? As hard as it is to grasp, millions and billions of years will eventually pass, and sooner or later we will all be forgotten. In fact, few people are remembered after five generations. Many of us inherit photographs from parents and grandparents. Isn’t it the case that you don’t have any idea who most of those people were? Even the few humans who achieve ‘greatness’ become mere names and ideas with the passage of time.
Seeking importance does not lead to contentment. To begin with, status is not really a question of achievement, but of acclaim. And since society’s attention is always shifting, those who seem important today may well be overlooked tomorrow. This is as true in families as it is in global politics. The result: craving importance is a recipe for chronic anxiety. Such uneasiness is increased, of course, by the hostility and resentment self-inflation provokes in others. What’s more, status-hunger and attention seeking discourage the exercise of higher qualities. By fighting for our importance, whether at work or at home, we feed pride at the expense of anti-competitive qualities such as helpfulness and empathy. Humane traits may well remain rudimentary.
Humility and great accomplishment can, and often do coexist. In fact, contributing to society’s advancement can be a profoundly humble act, provided it is done for love of others rather than promotion of self. What’s more, striving to help is the surest route to achieve meaningful success, the honest affection of others, and stable self-esteem. When you have all that, who needs to feel important?
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