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From the time I first came to know basic socioeconomic principles of social signaling, I couldn’t not see it everywhere. Conspicuous consumption was, I believe, the first version of this principle of outwardly communicating social status I learned. Even if a person’s most salient motivation for buying that Gucci bag wasn’t for this reason, it is still very much received as such. This is undoubtedly fascinating as well as a phenomenon I often use to my advantage, but its not the most interesting version of signaling to me.

Signaling personal values, ideology, and indeed literal virtue signaling are today’s Information Age cultural capital. If professing one’s ostensibly superior beliefs about what’s “true” or “best” were directly monetized like NFTs, at least we could skip a couple of disingenuous steps along the way. I have a complex relationship with my own desires (or lack thereof) to signal in this way. At surface level, what better way to express your authentic self than by telling the public who you are by tweeting what you support. However, in simple terms, self-expression can be at odds with one’s group identity.

Our current hyper-polarized environment has brought this tension into stark relief. It is just as easy to state a truly held view to encourage community and validation as it is to take advantage of these laudable motivations for personal, monetary, and/or political gain. A version of this unsavory behavior I check within myself is the desire to be a slacktivist, not usually to unfairly gain the social benefits, but mostly because I’m lazy. Not to say #hashtagactivisim isn’t effective or that little intentionl actions aren’t worth it, but unless you have considerable social influence, it’s unfortunately too easy to game the system to get undeserved social praise for minimal effort.

As much as it seems wise to have self-awareness of your wants and how that is received by others, it seems equally wise to be aware your fears. I’ve been thinking much on how we use social signals not only to signal group identity but as a protection mechanism against being ostracized. I believe the fear of not belonging can be so significant that we will sometimes express a belief that we might not truly believe or at least exclaim it in its most base-level, extremely vanilla, meme-worthy form, lacking any caveats or nuance that could be just as important to us but fear saying because it doesn’t hew closely enough to the established narrative of your in-group.

In part this drive is quite understandably a realization of our survival mechanism “telling” us being kicked out of our tribe means certain death.¹ In other words, we sacrifice authenticity for acceptance. I’ve felt this fear not on the commission side but on the omission side if anything. I’m mostly alright with not reaping the benefits of rehashing popular social statements. But I’m not alright with the consequences of a social faux pas. In terms of authenticity it is no better for me to avoid controversy than it is to tell people only my “safe” views. In practical terms, not saying much of anything is still the safest choice, unless of course your in-group requires regular interval societal hot takes for you to still be cool.

For me I’ve had the unusual advantage (privilege even?) of never totally belonging in any in-group for most of my life. East Asian, but not a “real” one since I’ve been far removed from my cultural roots. Part of a family, but without blood relation. Midwestern, but not white or sufficiently traditional. The list goes on. With all the emotional/identity difficulties these tensions still give me, I’ve proven to myself along the way that someone can survive, even thrive without truly knowing what it’s like to “fit in.” And with that realization comes a certain freedom. A freedom to not parrot another’s opinion but, at least internally, have confidence in my values without need for outward validation and without pressure to be 100% consistent to a political party I support or identity I feel to be part of me.

Modern society does much to outpace our evolutionary encoding. Coming to terms with our fear of being alone I believe is a necessary step to being able to, every once in a while, truly connect.

^{1 Williams, K.D. Ostracism: Effects of being excluded and ignored. (2009) Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, 41, 279–314.}

I’ve been fascinated recently by the dichotomy between concept and emotion. We can know and believe in an idea without feeling its truth just as we can feel without knowing. What’s more, it’s possible to realize within ourselves a certain distance between the concept and virtue of something, e.g. compassion, and its lived experience.

Earlier this week, I was gratified in being able to clearly express this distance to a physician. This idea was brought forth within a larger conversation about well-being and meditation, specifically in the challenge of feeling compassion for those who show little regard for others or differ significantly in core values. These “challenging” people might be politically polarizing or perhaps just plain mean. Most of us can understand how compassion in this case is both virtuous yet difficult–a distance so tangible there is a possibility to cause harm and/or trauma within yourself in extending such compassion across the chasm to say, someone who’s caused you abuse.

With self-compassion in mind, to take time and intention to close this gap seems worthwhile. I’ve attempted to do this exercise myself in the form of Metta meditation. Metta roughly translates to “loving-kindness” in Pali and is, in my understanding of the term, a feeling of wishing well onto others in an unattached manner. Furthermore, it is related to and among three other Buddhist virtues–karuṇā, muditā, and upekkhā (compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity in Pali, respectively). Unlike the more familiar forms of observational meditation, which focus on e.g., the breath or awareness itself, Metta meditation is an intention form, a way to cultivate and increase one’s ability to experience a particular mental state.

My n=1 experience has shown that with consistent practice it is indeed possible to increase my own sense of compassion toward myself and others. Additionally this mental state feels “good,” in the sense that there’s a certain pleasure in genuinely wishing well onto others within your mind. People on guided meditation apps and videos describe the feeling as warm and expansive as well as the feeling that it reduces one’s self-concern. These descriptors seem accurate to me. I imagine it almost like what I would expect how being on MDMA would feel, without the side-effects or “come down.”

In practicing Metta, it is easy to wonder: is the cultivation of this state just a form of self-interested navel-gazing (which I would argue its inherent benefit to one’s own well-being is reason enough to practice) or is there actual concrete good being done to oneself and others as a result? The answer is, I believe, is yes, there is “real” good, but it is complex.

Closing the gap between concept and emotion has no inherent moral utility if we don’t do anything with the result. Indeed much as been already written about the difference between caring and actually doing good, notably Peter Singer’s concept,”effective altruism,” and Paul Bloom’s work on the pitfalls of empathy. As long as there is honest engagement with such criticisms, it seems there is salient value in actually feeling as opposed to only conceptualizing the virtues of compassion. The most noticeable value in my own life is that there is a tendency to treat oneself and others with more genuine kindness if you feel compassionate in the moment. Lofty goals of morality aside, this is the realized benefit of the practice in everyday situations. Perhaps one can say compassion shouldn’t be highlighted to the exclusion of other “good” emotional states of consciousness, but it is arguably a foundational one that most if not all people could benefit from cultivating more in their lives.