Guilt, blame and privilege

Dean of the College Shirley Collado’s Plates and Privilege article greatly bothers me. She distorts an issue of collective inefficiency into an opportunity to mount a self-serving moral crusade. Her argument is the same one that I’ve encountered many times, in one outfit or another: “If you’re privileged, constantly be aware of all individuals who are of any lesser privilege than you, and realize that yours is probably undeserved, so be really thankful for everything.”

Now cut through the sap, the staleness and exaggeration of her soap opera prose, and she proposes a generally good moral metric, albeit not the least bit novel. I don’t disagree with her fundamental point — that we should consider the results of our actions. To do so would be contrary to all my youth’s training in manners and respect. But, even if I did want to disagree, I could not; her reasoning is a moral straitjacket. Either I’m a thoughtful and thankful person, or I’m an evildoer who is somehow a link in the chain of people responsible for the suffering of others.

Collado would have you think that there are two paths in this world: good and evil. It is a simplistic perspective that is untrue. Be wary of this folk mentality. Although one should live according to goodness and morality, realize that these categories are not so defined.

Collado contends that this minor act of thoughtlessness initiates a chain of events, whereby the plate sits in a pile of his kin, in a bathroom, attracts insects, then rodents.  The story of the plate reaches dramatic conclusion when an undervalued and forgotten proletarian hauls these sullied plates “down flights of stairs”, and over hills, to be soaked and scrubbed by tired hands.  True, to some extent.  However, such a view of events is problematic.

If I apply this cause and effect perspective to a worldlier situation, by the very nature of my existence, I am probably wronging someone. But let’s take a look at another minor act of my thoughtlessness. The coffee that I drink was imported from Africa. Some poor, sunburned worker — I will call him Arthur — prostituted his self-worth by toiling in the fields at a meager rate of compensation, so the fruits of his labor could be exported and sold at a much greater and unfair retail value in the USA. Arthur possesses the desire to provide for his family, but not the means to bring any more to them than a life of subsistence. Are coffee drinkers responsible for his plight? Am I responsible? Does the fact that I savor the bold and aromatic taste of my coffee, but do not detect the salty tone of his sweat, somehow pervert my pleasure? Then again, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. I paid for this coffee with my own labor.

Each action that I perform has infinite negative effects that will last until the universe collapses on itself and they cease to exist, or until Judgment Day, when dining hall sinners meet their fate. The question so far unanswered is when I am no longer responsible for these effects? When is it the fault of the proverbial system?

Am I being melodramatic? Yes, I admit. Collado’s point is valid, I won’t deny. But it’s one of the most cliché-ridden pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. Furthermore, it is a bit beguiling. She reminds us that “people in this country and around the world don’t have enough food to eat and are trying to find a warm place to live.” It seems like she’s suggesting that we are responsible for the plight of these people too. I don’t take kindly to such accusations.

Once more, am I responsible for these people? Sure — to some extent. Until the entire world takes a cause of goodness, whatever that might mean, we are all guilty for the crimes against the Arthurs in this world. Unfortunately, we are not naturally born equal, except in the eyes of the American legal system.

Her prose also relies on superlatives and clichés. Details provide an essay with poignancy. I learned this here.  “Scores of staff members” put “a lot of hard work” into this “incredibly privileged environment” so that it remains “beautiful and pristine.” Apparently our disregard of their work “speaks volumes” about our future selves. If so, I can’t help but think that if our selfish drive, fostered by our capitalist system, yields a lucrative pay check, Middlebury College can reckon our amorality with our indulgences.

I look forward to your angry comments on The Campus website!