Notes on care
October 23rd 2006 09:18
All “care” implies some sort of bond or obligation; the opposite of care is indifference. But language has two usages. I can care about something simply by being interested in it. I can care about the stats of baseball players, or about the crap being written in front of me on the whiteboard. On the other hand, I can care about a person, or sometimes a thing, such that I try to make life/existence more comfortable for him or her or it.
I don’t know that the two usages are in reality related, though language usually pretends they are. I can be utterly fascinated by a person, say a celebrity, but not give a shit whether they live or die, except to the extent that it affects my fascination. Usage occasionally tries to grasp this difference. Instead of just saying “I care about her”, you must specify and say, “I care about her as a person”.
Pleasure is not a necessary element. One can care about a thing entirely dispassionately. You can be a robot on autopilot. You can act, for instance, out of obsessive compulsion, or duty, or conditioning.
Also, just because something gives you pleasure doesn’t meant you “really” care. There might be no bond or obligation whatsoever. I like my job a lot -- it’s the best job I’ve ever had -- but I could walk away from it tomorrow without regret...
We know ourselves well enough that we know what triggers care. You can make a child or a pet care about a thing by associating it with a reward; you can make two people care about each other by putting them through an adventure together.
It appears to us, then, that even if we do not initially care, we can make ourselves care, we seem to have the choice. If I want to care about a bum asking for change, I’ll do it by trying to empathize with him, knowing that empathy engenders sympathy. And if I want to care about a task, or an activity, I could put work into it, knowing that I care about things that cost my sweat.
And it appears to use that even if the instinct is to care, we can choose not to. Stoics and epicureans and vulcans and jedi knights and prostitutes practise this sort of distancing, at least on an emotional level. Either the thing is stripped of its obligation: it becomes merely pleasurable, or merely fascinating. Or else the obligation is transformed from an emotional one to a logical, rational one. I can stop myself from caring, or reduce care, by avoiding intimacy, avoiding effort, or by setting myself up to fail.
I don’t know that the two usages are in reality related, though language usually pretends they are. I can be utterly fascinated by a person, say a celebrity, but not give a shit whether they live or die, except to the extent that it affects my fascination. Usage occasionally tries to grasp this difference. Instead of just saying “I care about her”, you must specify and say, “I care about her as a person”.
***
Pleasure is not a necessary element. One can care about a thing entirely dispassionately. You can be a robot on autopilot. You can act, for instance, out of obsessive compulsion, or duty, or conditioning.
Also, just because something gives you pleasure doesn’t meant you “really” care. There might be no bond or obligation whatsoever. I like my job a lot -- it’s the best job I’ve ever had -- but I could walk away from it tomorrow without regret...
***
We know ourselves well enough that we know what triggers care. You can make a child or a pet care about a thing by associating it with a reward; you can make two people care about each other by putting them through an adventure together.
It appears to us, then, that even if we do not initially care, we can make ourselves care, we seem to have the choice. If I want to care about a bum asking for change, I’ll do it by trying to empathize with him, knowing that empathy engenders sympathy. And if I want to care about a task, or an activity, I could put work into it, knowing that I care about things that cost my sweat.
And it appears to use that even if the instinct is to care, we can choose not to. Stoics and epicureans and vulcans and jedi knights and prostitutes practise this sort of distancing, at least on an emotional level. Either the thing is stripped of its obligation: it becomes merely pleasurable, or merely fascinating. Or else the obligation is transformed from an emotional one to a logical, rational one. I can stop myself from caring, or reduce care, by avoiding intimacy, avoiding effort, or by setting myself up to fail.
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Comment by Adrienne
Comment by Adrian
Philosophy Blog
I reckon Pretty Woman is a male fantasy. Everyone wants their prostitute to fall in love with them. So they keep on paying them, hoping they will.
And I reckon lusting for your ex is just the old thing about wanting what you can't have. In the movie/play "Closer", one of the characters says that when he fantasises, he always fantasises about ex-girlfriends. (But maybe they need to be ex to ensure the fantasy -- if he got back together with them, reality would quickly kick in.)
I want to be cynical, want to be skeptical about the amount of care we really do have for people; I've known too many friends who just dry up and go cold. And I want to suggest that the idea that we do care for old friends, old partners, is a sort of self-conceit.
But I can't deny that you make an important point. Sometimes, the plain fact is that we can't stop ourselves caring...