The Thinking Sapling

I’m sure you’ve experienced it when something feels like it’s what you ought to do. It doesn’t emerge immediately why we have come to such resolutions, but it seems a portion of us has already made a conclusion. While we can’t always explain these convictions, they feel compelling and can shape our choices. The key thing is that these conclusions made in the past do affect our lives.

A professor I’m working with on a project told me that if our team provides substantial work, we might become co-authors. This has oddly motivated me to spend a lot of time on it. My mind has gone so far as to start considering academia as a career path once more. However, I ought to ask first: why does the idea of appearing in a research journal feel so appealing?

Looking back, this feeling isn’t new. During high school, I was working on a proposal and browsing literature. Back then, I imagined researchers publishing their work in a long chain of citations and applications. You can trace any contribution back through history far enough to find its source. This rose-tinted view evoked in me a desire to contribute and be part of something. I was a wishful teenager hoping to see his name cited and my work recognised, yet it was likely folly to hope a school project could ever go that far. I suppose I felt somewhat unsatisfied for not having done more.

It would be rather simple to say I’m naturally drawn to academia and, therefore, I should act upon this desire. Very well, why should I act upon it? Saying that I’m drawn to it doesn’t necessitate an ought. I’d have to have given that desire meaning in the first place, then furthermore, decide to act on it. The truth is, I’m still making the decisions.

This brings me to a deeper question: why am I motivated to be part of something in the first place? It might be because my parents taught me from a young age. Perhaps it is innate in me, and thus, I can do nothing about it. Try as I might, I can’t recall when I began valuing my worth in such matters, but it is undeniable I do. At some point I must have chosen to affirm these values whether consciously or subconsciously. And while I am free to reexamine or even reject them, it would require greater effort.

These questions of value bring to mind the famous example of Sartre’s pupil. This pupil wrestled with the decision of staying to care for his mother or joining the French resistance to serve his nation. Sartre brought up this example to show that there was no right answer that could help in this dilemma. No external moral system could provide him with any answer. One might be tempted to follow their heart in such instance, but how would one even begin to weigh what is of more importance? In the end we still decide what is good and what drives we listen to. In a world without answers, we alone must bear the weight of our choices. The only answer that is right for us is whatever choice we make, and by making that choice, we decide our values.

What we are to do is to be authentic to ourselves when choosing, and examine at least briefly whether we find our motivations acceptable. If the pupil had a deep, inseparable bond with his mother—if she was his world, and he hers—he might choose to stay. But if he had grown up idolizing an uncle, a veteran who spoke of fallen comrades who cried “On ne passe pas!” then he might take up arms, feeling it his duty to liberate the motherland. If he didn’t choose the path he deemed more right then he’d be deluding himself, thinking that going against himself could bring joy. Values are the things we decide to have meaning for us in the present. But that doesn’t mean they exist in isolation from our past. Our lives, our experiences, and our relationships would inevitably sway us toward one path over the other, but it is still on us to decide what to do even if we can’t see all ends.

We are never truly free from our past, because our past has formed our knowledge and we can only ever decide on what we know. However, the self-awareness of how our experience has shaped us gives us that small bit of freedom—or burden. The choice of the pupil, whether he valued family or country more falls squarely on his shoulders. Likewise, the choice of how much effort to put into this project is mine alone. Every moment we decide what we do, with what we have and what we know. And while we may never fully uncover the origins of our motivations, the more we understand them, the clearer our path forward becomes.