There’s nothing more disgusting—nothing more unbearable—than human suffering. Since the day the world began, we’ve been doing everything in our power to slay this most repulsive demon. We’ve invented sciences, philosophies, cosmologies, pathologies—there’s no weapon we haven’t used in the war against suffering. With the exception of Mel Gibson—who needs pain the way a beaver needs his front teeth—no man alive wants to suffer. This is no laughing matter, for human suffering is perhaps the most terrifying riddle we’ve ever had to face. But suffering is a bit too unwieldy to discuss in a newspaper, so let me talk about social justice instead. I happen to be an excellent anthropologist, a remarkable psychologist, and a famed outdoorsman. There’s no question, then, that I have a few things to say about justice. Justice, by the way, is simply the idea that social, political, and economic realities ought to be fair. It’s the idea that people should get only those outcomes which they deserve.
We all know that college students spend lots of time discussing justice. On our campus, for instance, justice is the most virginal of all queens, the sweetest of all nectars. This, of course, is a very good thing. But has anyone ever shut one’s eyes, unwrapped one’s ears, and listened carefully to the ways that college students talk about justice? I have. My ears—like those of a well-groomed Doberman—are sharp and clean.
It’s obvious that our desire for justice is based on noble motives. Sometimes, however, our lust for justice becomes compulsive, and our compassion transforms into an obsession. Our desire to do the right thing swells to monstrous proportions, making it difficult for us to be calm or cheerful. We start to believe that the idea of justice is more important than the people who are supposed to benefit from it. Our desire for justice morphs into a toxic fixation, and we become incredibly serious, like a schoolboy on his first date. And we all know what happens to people who take justice too seriously. They write books that no one reads, they sweat a lot, and—like beached whales—they don’t accomplish much. It’s hard to help others if one has forgotten how to be calm and joyful.
It seems, moreover, that we’re nervous about justice, for we never allow ourselves to make jokes about it. We always remind ourselves that justice needs to be treated with solemnity. Sometimes, we even tell ourselves that laughing about justice is immoral. Try making a joke about inequality or oppression—you’ll be crucified on an anthill.
College students, being the great alchemists that they are, have transformed justice into an obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Our remarkable seriousness can only be explained by the fact that we have some kind of anxiety about justice. Fear, trepidation, shame, panic—these are the things that come to the surface whenever we talk about justice. Like a repressed foot fetish, justice stirs up all of the psychological problems that we have.
Let’s try to figure out why justice arouses so much anxiety.
Deep in our hearts, we know that—by itself—justice is insufficient to eliminate suffering. We know that, even after we get rid of every oppressive regime, suffering will still torment us. One day, we’ll remedy every inequality, grant every right, and punish every villain.
But that won’t be enough to make us happy. Justice will triumph and exploitation will be no more, but we’ll still be depressed, and we’ll still be diagnosing our children with obsessive-compulsive disorders. Why? Because suffering originates in the mind. Suffering is caused by the fears, fixations, and neuroses that are produced by the human brain. Sadly, then, no amount of justice will be enough to end suffering. But most of us don’t want to see it this way. In fact, we repeatedly tell ourselves that suffering is caused mainly by political injustice and economic inequality. We tell ourselves, in other words, that fighting for justice is the most effective way to help others. But what if it isn’t? What if fighting for justice isn’t as useful as, say, helping people subdue their fears? What if helping people overcome their worries and obsessions is more effective than avenging human rights violations?
There’s something odd about the fact that—while we panic so much about exploitation and unfairness—we do almost nothing to help people deal with their phobias and neuroses. Is this because we suffer from neuroses ourselves?
Beavers build dams, Mel Gibson makes adult movies, and we college students answer questions. I think we’re finally ready to answer the big question. We’re finally ready to determine why justice makes us so nervous.
Justice embarrasses us—that’s why we’re so nervous about it. Justice embarrasses us because, deep down inside, we know that it can’t rescue us from suffering. And being so incredibly serious about justice allows us to dodge the real issue. Our seriousness helps us dodge the fact that suffering is caused mainly by our thoughts and emotions. By being so solemn about justice, we hide from the fundamental causes of suffering, like a porcupine who hides from the world by folding himself into a ball. For most college students, in fact, justice is nothing more than a porcupine. Hold on—there’s more! Justice is a porcupine with a foot fetish.