My peers and I are at a time in our lives when an ever-increasing number of friends are being debilitated by failing health and disease. Not those reaching the end of their expected time, aged 80 or 90 or whatever that may be, but those younger who were otherwise active and vibrant. Those whom we cherished for their buoyant, inspiring lifestyles that now struggle to deal with diminished capacities, unable to do the things they love.
This uncharacteristically cold winter has brought the plight of the homeless and displaced across Niagara and Canada to the forefront of our thoughts. The contradiction between those on the street and those of us that live in privilege has never been more apparent.
Our ongoing encounter with Covid during the last two years has bared many emotions: fear for our own health and those around us, bewilderment that we have no definitive answers, anger for so many reasons, loss, boredom, confusion —add your choice to the list.
We’ve learned that climate change is real. We know that by whatever good fortune we have chosen to live in an area which, in the near future, will remain relatively unaffected while those in coastal communities and flood plains, or surrounded by parched forests, are already experiencing upheaval.
The Russian invasion of Ukraine was the final trigger, forcing me to acknowledge the nagging guilt rising within. It is a gut-wrenching emotional roller-coaster to watch human displacement on such a scale while simultaneously being inspired by the stoicism and heroics of those that are willing to fight and lose their lives for their country and freedom. The strength displayed by young couples making clear-eyed decisions to tear their families apart, then filling those same eyes with tears and sorrow as the women and children leave while men remain to fight is heart-breaking.
These are ultimately situations beyond our control, yet we feel somehow guilty. Why are our emotions so conflicted, causing us to feel guilt because of our own good fortune and success when we encounter the unconnected misfortune of others?
Is it guilt because we still have our health and can continue to participate in all those activities we love while others must abandon them? Is it guilt because we cannot help enough? Guilt because we are powerless to make immediate changes on the scale required? Guilt because we have lots of “stuff,” financial security, and wonderful, joyous lives, while others struggle for shelter and sustenance?
Is this guilt natural, common, healthy or unhealthy? How do we deal with it?
Kendra Cherry, a Psychological Rehabilitation Specialist with Idaho State University, describes various types of guilt.
There is natural guilt, when we feel bad for a wrong we actually committed. Maladaptive guilt often results when failure to take a preventative action causes harm, including situations which we may have been unable to predict. “Bad” thoughts can trigger guilt, even if they are not acted upon, especially when they violate strong cultural or religious norms.
Existential guilt, another category, is complicated says Cherry. Existential guilt is, “Often centred on things like guilt over injustices, guilt because we are doing well when others we care about are not, or guilt when other people experience misfortune when we don’t.” Surviving a disaster or accident in which others are harmed may also trigger existential guilt.
Each cause and symptom Cherry defines above aligns with the emotions many of us are experiencing now. The events of the last two years have forced us into a zero sum game, pitted us against ourselves, with no hope of avoiding some degree of existential guilt.
Humans are unique amongst living organisms in that we are aware, mentally cognizant, of our own existence. As a species, we are alone in our ability to think about ourselves. In the early 1800s, Danish theologian and philosopher Soren Kierkegaard theorized that because we are aware of our lives, by logic we must also be aware that we will die, causing us to suffer some degree of “Death anxiety.” This is now referred to by social psychologists as “Existential terror.”
Danish theologian and philosopher Soren Kierkegaard theorized that because we are aware of our lives, by logic we must also be aware that we will die, causing us to suffer some degree of 'Death anxiety'
A strategy adopted by humans to mitigate this existential fear was to believe that the lives we lead can be meaningful individually and as groups. If we have the ability to analyze and respond to our existence, we can believe that we have a degree of control. But having control demands responsibility. Individually, this responsibility obliges us to live life to the fullest, with meaning, purpose, direction, and growth. Collectively, our responsibility demands we create cultures which dictate values, ethics and appropriate behaviours. For most of us, these values include a concern for the welfare of others.
If we feel that we have fallen short of these responsibilities, not lived up to our potential or missed collective opportunities, we are susceptible to feeling existential guilt.
When we interpose the concept of personal freedom, our ability to control our own lives and become a unique and authentic individual, I believe there can be no result but to fail either our collective responsibility or our individual responsibility. Reflecting on either failure traps us in the grip of existential guilt.
If our definition of living our life to the fullest means being self-indulgent, acquisitive, hedonistic, caring only for our own pleasure and comfort, we will surely feel guilt when we recognize the cost such a lifestyle may impose on others, and our missed opportunity to enrich our collective humanity.
Yet if we strive to exist within the conventions of a culture which dictates group values and behaviours, at some point we will judge our lives less unique, perhaps less meaningful to ourselves, than was possible. We failed ourselves by compromising or restricting our passions and beliefs for the common good, and for this we feel existential guilt.
This juxtaposition is the tightrope many of us are having difficulty walking today—figuring out how to balance our own desires and liberty, how to enjoy our extremely good fortune while knowing so many others are in terrible situations which we have little ability to change or correct.
Feeling a measure of existential guilt may be a good thing. It can ground us from a lifestyle of extremes or over-indulgence, and focus our thoughts on community issues we may be able to improve or people we can help.
It can spur us to reassure friends and family that we value them, that our time with them is important, and that we will be there to support them when they need us.
Conversely, too much existential guilt, being consumed with situations that we can’t change, benefits no one. We must accept the fact that we cannot influence everything, that we can never have all the answers, and that sometimes we must accept the unknown.
We can reduce existential guilt by exploring and reaffirming our values. Not in a self-critical, what-am-I-failing-at-today manner, but with a positive, this-is-truly-what-I-believe-in attitude. Personal authenticity and social responsibility need not be mutually exclusive.
Realize that failing to enjoy our own life, reducing our happiness, ultimately serves no one. In fact, doing so may deprive friends and colleagues that take joy from our positivity and joie de vivre.
To reduce existential guilt, savour the good things in your life, knowing that they give you the strength and confidence to help others when they call.
And laugh. You wouldn’t be questioning your existential guilt if you weren’t trying to do the right thing for yourself and others. So lighten up, enjoy the people and things that make you smile. We will all be happier because you did. ◆
