The savings in my bank account had grown steadily, and after thorough research, I had finally found the object of my desire: a new digital piano (Yamaha p223 for the connaiseurs). My friend and I were on our way to make the cathartic purchase when the rain, which had been pouring down relentlessly, suddenly stopped, almost as if urging me to seal the deal.
Lost in thoughts and dreams of playing music, I barely noticed the elderly woman with a stroller who approached us: “I just moved and don’t have any money. Do you, by any chance, have some to spare?” My automatic response: “Sorry, I don’t carry cash.”
That evening, my friend brought up the encounter, wondering if the woman was okay.
The sociologist Zygmunt Bauman described our society as one of adiaphora, a state where we temporarily withdraw from our field of sensitivity. This retreat, he argued, leads to the deterioration of our moral and social responsibility. For the woman asking for help, she was just one of the many faces in the multitude of people who have ever needed my assistance.To stay sane, I’ve learned to retreat into my own (economic) bubble, even though, in reality, donating a small amount of money wouldn’t hurt me at all.
I believe that reaching this state of adiaphora is a logical response to the ongoing crises we face, crises in which economic reality is just one of many sources of pain. But of course, it’s not one we should accept. I believe what we need is a ritual to bring back our collective spirit. What if we allowed ourselves to mourn and grieve the failure of our systems to provide for everyone within them?
For this circle, ask someone:
- When you were a child, what did fairness look like to you? Can you share a memory or example that stands out? And how, if at all, has your understanding of fairness changed as you’ve grown older?
- Or a variation: What does ‘fair’ mean to you? Can you tell me about a time when something felt fair, or not fair? Do you think about it the same way now?
Flynn vs. the world 
Leave a comment