Being a Good Person

I know this isn't news to anyone, but I'm really an old man stuck in a 20-year old's body. Some of you know that I've been alive since 4000 B.C., when I had the all-important task of blessing the Nile and ancient people of Egypt with the vital force contained within my balls. But even if you don't, you are already familiar with my sluggish gait and weary gaze. For those of you who had the unenviable challenge of planning my surprise birthday party, you are well aware of the versatility of my blank face expression. And the last time I dreamed about touching boobies, Stephon Marbury was a decent basketball player and Pluto was still a planet. Good times.

So given my knack for finding stability in life, what happened this semester came as bit of a surprise. I thought I was done with this whole self-discovery business but boy, was I wrong. First came the realization that despite never having heard the word "spooning" prior to my trip to the Dominican Republic, I had been spooning a pillow for the past 15 years. This is convergent evolution at work, folks. Then came the discovery that auditory stimulus, particularly the voice of Mandy Moore, could enhance my ramen experience. I allowed myself to completely succumb to the two-pronged attack mounted by the sweetness of her disposition and the spiciness of Shin bowl, a combination so good it bordered on sexual. But perhaps the most significant change was gaining new insights into my lifelong goal of becoming a good person. I'm glad it happened because there is nothing that matters more to me.

Like most good things in life, morality is complex stuff. Many say it's a useful societal tool for human coexistence and may have been selected evolutionarily because social behavior in which personal desires and interests are held in check for the benefit of the group promotes survival and reproduction. Our collective moral consciousness, manifested in laws and social functions, thus helps ensure the well-being and equal treatment of individuals. Yet most of us would also agree that our identities - what makes us us - are entrenched in our unique sense of right and wrong. So even though we may be exposed to the same societal moral standards, we develop differing sets of values and can argue about them. And our behavior is motivated by the discerning power of our moral perspective, not the societal one. I think one can also talk about moral beliefs as those grounded in logical constructions or emotional appeal. For instance, I believe in government providing welfare programs because I know that human beings are born into positions of life that are inherently unequal, through no fault of their own. That would be primarily a logical stance. If I were given a knife and told to kill either a moving animal or a plant, I would choose the plant not because I believe the plant's life is worth more than the animal's, but because I would be less squeamish about killing the plant. That's a decision driven by emotion. Though the distinctions I have made - societal, individual, logical, emotional - are not mutually exclusive or set in stone, I mention them because I've forgotten one or quite a few in the past.

Back in high school, I really enjoyed volunteering, as I do now, even though I didn't think much about the societal impact of my work. There were teens at the Braille Institute, kids at the Boys and Girls Club, and elders at the nursing home who expressed their gratitude to me, and that was all the validation I needed to keep going. But if you had asked me about my future career then or even last year? Doctor, I would have said with some unease. The truth was, I was on the bandwagon without really thinking it through. I've always gravitated toward a career in medicine for no really good reason at all, except that I kind of like biology, doctors do some form of helping people while making good money. So in summary, I was confusing myself on multiple fronts. I had neglected to objectively and critically assess the impact of my service, complacent with the idea that I genuinely cared about the folks I was helping, and they genuinely cared back. And as for my career choice, I was basing the decision not on where my humanitarian contribution to the world can be the greatest - a logical approach that places the interests of others above mine - but on which career can bestow me comfortable living as well as the assurance that I was making a positive impact on the lives of others - a selfish delusion to grant myself just enough emotional satisfaction to evade the truth that I don't care as much about the world as I should. I needed to stop fooling myself.

Confronting these questions, though, didn't turn out to be easy. The beginning of my freshman spring semester, I fully immersed myself in volunteer activities eager to make solid, tangible contributions. The range of opportunities to do meaningful work available to undergraduates, I thought to myself, would far exceed anything I had seen in high school. To some extent, this was true. I've had the privilege of being a part of some amazing organizations that meet important social needs in a sustainable way. Yet the immediate gratification I had been seeking, that unequivocal desirable outcome arising from my efforts which would quickly feedback onto my conscience, was often missing. Keeping the homeless company at the shelter wasn't enough for me. Despite my share of small successes at LIFT, an organization offering one-on-one client service to residents in the Boston area who need services in employment, housing, and public benefits, I STILL have not helped a client find a job. And in my short stint as a suicide hotline volunteer, I have already caught myself wishing that someone who is acutely suicidal would call.

And as for my career choice? The insidious voice of "logic" mocked my decision to abandon a career in medicine.' If you could make a lot of money, you could put it to good use by donating to NGOs and charities,' the voice would whisper to me. 'How are you going to do good in this world if you don't have money? The world doesn't need your compassion or your unconditional respect; it needs your money. If you want to really help people, be a doctor. Doctors can actually save lives. Only doctors can actually save those malaria, HIV, and TB patients in developing countries. You can't even do CPR. But you know what, you have no reason to try to pick a career that helps people. You do realize that there are no careers designated for people helpers. You can become a rapper, businessman, basketball player, barber, singer, or writer, and you can still do good for other people. Are you saying these people are not as morally good or important to the world as your doctors and humanitarians?' Of course not, I would say. The voice is absolutely right.

The only way I can reconcile these competing voices inside my head - and I'm going to borrow the playbook of Confucius here - is to remember that the world is more than words and actions. A doctor's successful performance of a life-saving surgery, a wealthy investor's generous donation to international development agency, an undergraduate student's success in helping a client find a job - none of these is sufficient to claim that the individual is morally good. What matters more than observable accomplishments is one's character and inner condition. A truly realized person always makes genuine efforts to treat others the way he/she wants to be treated, always channels the sense of right and wrong in all things, small and big. A truly benevolent person never forgets the urgency of the struggle for a more just world. And when life doesn't yield the desired outcomes, one just has to keep going. A moral life is a daily and never-ending one, and I am fortunate to have many teachers along this journey. So here is a toast to an enlightening 2010, and a better Min Lee and a better you in 2011. Cheers!