From Sanskrit, Gandhi seemed to derive his concept of “doing no harm.” That idea, called Ahimsa, seems to run in John Stuart Mill’s work on free speech, On Liberty. Mill says we should be free to say anything, but we should not cause harm. It seems to make sense if we want a peaceful society that we all aim to do no harm. The problem is that we live in an age where perception is harm, perception derived in many instances “out of context.” Apparently, unintentional harm is unavoidable in an age of social media.
It was Ludwig Wittgenstein who stressed the importance of context. Now we seem to have people offended by just about anything. So, let’s draw an analogy. If I see a number of amusement park rides, I feel safe in assuming that I’m at some sort of festival, carnival, or amusement park. If I enter a festival, carnival, or amusement park, I feel save in assuming that I will see some sort of amusement rides. Yes, there might be exceptions, such as some individual’s property that might have an amusement ride for family and friends or a resort that might keep some version of rides for guests, but let’s keep the context in context here.
If I say, “I hate bloggers,” what do I mean? In the current era, the expression probably yields a thousand negative and condemnatory comments: “Doesn’t this idiot know he’s blogging and that his blogging makes him a blogger? Does he hate himself?” But what if I mean “I hate bloggers because they are smarter than I, have greater insights, and make a bunch of money at what they do while I make none?” What if the comment is a minor note on a personal feeling? What if it is made tongue-in-cheek and expresses some hidden sarcasm or self-deprecation? What if it actually means to me, “I love bloggers”?
I don’t have much hair. It started to fall out when I was seventeen, and there was nothing I could do about it. So, out it fell. And fell. And fell. That’s who I am, a person with typical pattern baldness, hair on the sides and nothing on top. As I walked along the street in Las Vegas, I passed three men who seemed to be idle, maybe just talking, maybe just standing around by a railing along a sidewalk because they had nothing else to do, no work, no play, no family responsibilities, no religious mission, no whatever. They were there, and I was walking past them. One, noticing my approach, stepped out into the sidewalk a little, though not in a threatening manner and not directly in my path, and said, “Hey, do you have an extra comb I could borrow?” I looked at him, chose not to respond, and walked on. That was the extent of the incident. Nothing really happened. He said what some might take as an insult, speaking to a perfect stranger on a sidewalk. And, of course, he knew nothing of the context of my life.
Was he attempting humor? Was he trying to get a belligerent response? Was he just saying the first thing that came into his head? I have no idea. I don’t really know the context beyond what I might surmise. Walking on seemed to be the best course since I had no sense of the context of his remark. Maybe he really meant no harm.
Ahimsa. Don’t make up contexts when you don’t know. Don’t assume harm is intended when you don’t know the context. Wittgenstein is right. If we want to discern meaning in its fullest, we need to know the context. Mill was also right. It doesn’t really matter how offensive speech is as long as it doesn’t result in harm. We are at liberty to speak as we will; and others are at the same liberty. Maybe the lesson of Mill, Wittgenstein, and Gandhi is Ahimsa. Just do no intentional harm.
But the corollary is also worth mentioning. Don’t assume intentional harm. If you are wrong, you spend your energy on combatting nothing, making unnecessary enemies, and creating a context. Think Ahimsa. The next time you think something offends you but you suffer no actual harm, say “Ahimsa” to yourself, and then walk on.
It was Ludwig Wittgenstein who stressed the importance of context. Now we seem to have people offended by just about anything. So, let’s draw an analogy. If I see a number of amusement park rides, I feel safe in assuming that I’m at some sort of festival, carnival, or amusement park. If I enter a festival, carnival, or amusement park, I feel save in assuming that I will see some sort of amusement rides. Yes, there might be exceptions, such as some individual’s property that might have an amusement ride for family and friends or a resort that might keep some version of rides for guests, but let’s keep the context in context here.
If I say, “I hate bloggers,” what do I mean? In the current era, the expression probably yields a thousand negative and condemnatory comments: “Doesn’t this idiot know he’s blogging and that his blogging makes him a blogger? Does he hate himself?” But what if I mean “I hate bloggers because they are smarter than I, have greater insights, and make a bunch of money at what they do while I make none?” What if the comment is a minor note on a personal feeling? What if it is made tongue-in-cheek and expresses some hidden sarcasm or self-deprecation? What if it actually means to me, “I love bloggers”?
I don’t have much hair. It started to fall out when I was seventeen, and there was nothing I could do about it. So, out it fell. And fell. And fell. That’s who I am, a person with typical pattern baldness, hair on the sides and nothing on top. As I walked along the street in Las Vegas, I passed three men who seemed to be idle, maybe just talking, maybe just standing around by a railing along a sidewalk because they had nothing else to do, no work, no play, no family responsibilities, no religious mission, no whatever. They were there, and I was walking past them. One, noticing my approach, stepped out into the sidewalk a little, though not in a threatening manner and not directly in my path, and said, “Hey, do you have an extra comb I could borrow?” I looked at him, chose not to respond, and walked on. That was the extent of the incident. Nothing really happened. He said what some might take as an insult, speaking to a perfect stranger on a sidewalk. And, of course, he knew nothing of the context of my life.
Was he attempting humor? Was he trying to get a belligerent response? Was he just saying the first thing that came into his head? I have no idea. I don’t really know the context beyond what I might surmise. Walking on seemed to be the best course since I had no sense of the context of his remark. Maybe he really meant no harm.
Ahimsa. Don’t make up contexts when you don’t know. Don’t assume harm is intended when you don’t know the context. Wittgenstein is right. If we want to discern meaning in its fullest, we need to know the context. Mill was also right. It doesn’t really matter how offensive speech is as long as it doesn’t result in harm. We are at liberty to speak as we will; and others are at the same liberty. Maybe the lesson of Mill, Wittgenstein, and Gandhi is Ahimsa. Just do no intentional harm.
But the corollary is also worth mentioning. Don’t assume intentional harm. If you are wrong, you spend your energy on combatting nothing, making unnecessary enemies, and creating a context. Think Ahimsa. The next time you think something offends you but you suffer no actual harm, say “Ahimsa” to yourself, and then walk on.
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