These are strange times.
On one level, everything is wonderful–better than it ever has been. On another level, almost nobody feels that way. The world seems like it’s falling apart. It does not seem like there is much anyone can do about it. Most of us don’t feel like we’re in much of a position to do much about anything.
Sociologists and historians speak of something called “moral luck.”
It’s sort of a confusing term but basically, it refers to being in the right place at the right time for heroics, for activism, for impact. Not everyone finds themselves in a position to reveal some world-changing government secret. Not everyone is there when somebody falls into the water and can’t swim. Not everyone was born emperor in a time of crisis (Marcus Aurelius) or an elected official in a moment of great consequence (Cato), not everyone was thrust into the presidency as Truman was in 1945 or into activism as Martin Luther King Jr and Rosa Parks were in 1955.
This is what Churchill was referring to when he noted, sadly, of the Earl of Rosebery, that the man lived in “an age of great men and small events.” We don’t all have the chance to be heroes on a grand scale. We don’t all get tapped on the shoulder by destiny (as Churchill was).
Or so we think.
We could also say that there is no such thing as ‘small’ events, that we all have a chance–indeed, an obligation–to get involved in the issues of our time and to try to make a positive difference wherever it is in our control.
Besides, Churchill’s assessment of that period was laughably inaccurate. Rosebery lived from 1847 to 1929–slavery was still rampant around the world. For the entirety of Rosebery’s life, working conditions in England’s factories were heinous and awful. Britain’s colonial system and all its abuses carried on with few objections. The Irish question loomed over British politics and most leaders believed it hopeless. Countries regularly went to war for little reason and with little thought for the people affected. Millions starved. Millions were abused. Countless things went uninvented, unreformed, unchampioned.
And at a smaller level, surely, there were so many things that Rosebery could have done–that anyone could have done–that would not have felt small to the people who were on the other end of that kindness or sacrifice or service.
And the same is true for the moment we are in right now. Depending on where you live or what you do, things may seem relatively calm or even sunny. But the world was also just rocked by a pandemic that killed millions–what did you do to help? Income inequality. Climate change. Disruptive technologies like AI loom before us. Fascism is on the rise globally. More locally, there are people who are hungry, people who need a second chance, people who could use a friend, kids who need to be adopted, students who need mentorship, local offices that could be filled, abuses that could be called out.
Of course, we all have opinions about these big sweeping issues. The question is: Are you doing anything about them?
It doesn’t matter whether the events are big or small, what matters is if you are a big or small person, a brave and just person, or a cowardly and selfish person. How are you helping? What are you doing?
We like to let ourselves off the hook by assuring that if we were in charge, we would do things differently. If we were a multinational conglomerate, we wouldn’t use chemicals that harm the environment. If we were the decision-makers, we’d have a diverse workforce, we’d be family-friendly employers, we’d speak out on political issues. We would pay a living wage. We wouldn’t do business with an overseas company that uses child labor. But then the order for company T-shirts comes across your desk and you suddenly have to choose between the $9 option from China and the $19 one manufactured in the U.S. The right thing is still obvious. It’s just harder.
And I mean it when I say it’s harder. I struggle with this with my own company, with my own decisions. I’m a very small fish and it’s exhausting and expensive to act as if your decisions matter. It’s harder to find suppliers, it takes longer to get things, your pricing is worse. But I try to remind myself: I don’t control what other people do. I don’t control the trends of the world or the market, but I do control the decisions I make. I control how I run my affairs.
I don’t always make the right choices. I look back and see the opportunities I’ve missed. People might not agree with all the decisions I make now. I may come to regret not going far enough on some…or too far on others. But I am doing my best not to think of any of these as small. This is my opportunity right now. I’ll take it.
Maybe it will inspire someone else, maybe it will be the first drip that starts the overflow. In the future, maybe I’ll get luckier–in the moral sense. Maybe I’ll find myself in some big, high-stakes situation. The decisions I’m making now will prepare me to meet that moment.
At the very least, it will make a difference for the laborers, the vendors, the customers touched by my business.
An example I love: Pete Frates was just a guy who got hit by a baseball in an amateur league game. It was his good luck that it happened, and his bad luck because the trip to the doctor revealed he had ALS. It was his choice to decide to do something with this, to change the trajectory of the fight against that disease. Certainly, no one expected him to do anything. He had no duty, no obligation to do anything but live out the rest of his life and to struggle to stay alive. Instead, his fund-raising efforts would not just contribute awareness and $200 million to researchers but spark significant progress in a field that had seemed stalled for so long. Even when he was paralyzed, wheelchair-bound, without the ability to talk, and having to be fed through a tube, he never stopped. To the very end, he was not resigned. He fought. He helped. He made a difference. He did not give in to despair. He adapted and transformed his fate into something that mattered, something that will make the future better, even if he’s not around to enjoy it himself.
There is that expression about how the moral arc of the universe bends towards justice. I don’t think that’s really the right wording. It’s that the moral arc of the universe is bent toward justice. It’s bent that way by people who reach up and grab it, people with the courage to stand against the norms of what was and a steadfast commitment to what they knew was the right thing. It was people who ignored the cynics, the people who told them it was hopeless, told them that one person could not make a difference.
As Marcus Aurelius writes, “True good fortune is what you make for yourself. Good fortune: good character, good intentions, and good actions.”
Just because we don’t hear a voice, just because an election hasn’t thrown us into office, doesn’t mean we aren’t called to something, locally or globally.
Curse the darkness or light a candle? Bemoan the calm seas or build a motor?
You can make your own moral luck. In fact, you must.
And it’s not that hard.
You just have to do good.
For a stranger. For a cause.
We choose to be heroes, big or small. We choose to be a part of the problem or part of the solution.
And if we don’t, it’s on us.
