Failures of Kindness by George Saunders

Have you ever considered how often we fail in our acts of kindness? In George Saunders’ perspective on ‘Failures of Kindness,’ he ponders this very thought, inviting you to reflect on moments when kindness was within your reach, but somehow slipped away.

Saunders doesn’t just recount his own experiences, but also challenges society’s understanding and implementation of kindness. He urges us to confront our failures and turn them into lessons that enrich our relationships and shape our character.

As you mull over this intriguing topic, you’ll find yourself questioning: How can these insights influence your day-to-day interactions?

Background

George Saunders, a renowned American author known for his insightful and thought-provoking works, delivered a profound commencement address at Syracuse University in 2013. This address, which garnered widespread acclaim, delved into the theme of kindness as a central tenet of human existence.

Drawing from his own personal experiences and reflections, Saunders eloquently articulated the transformative power of kindness and its significance as a life goal. He delved into the societal and internal barriers that often hinder the practice of kindness, shedding light on the pervasive influence of personal ambition and the tendency to overlook acts of selflessness in a competitive world.

Saunders’ message resonated deeply with his audience, as he urged them to embrace kindness not as a mere abstraction, but as a tangible and impactful force for positive change in the world.

Key Takeaways

Here are 4 key takeaways from ‘Failures of Kindness’ by George Saunders that encapsulate the essence of compassion and kindness as foundational life principles:

• George Saunders’ speech highlights the importance of prioritizing kindness and its role in personal development.
• His regret over a past failure of kindness serves as a life lesson for the audience.
• Saunders discusses challenges to kindness, including inherent human confusions and selfishness.
• He urges individuals to prioritize kindness and love over materialistic achievements for personal growth and fulfillment.

Story

In Saunders’ narrative, he recounts a poignant memory of regret, stemming from a missed opportunity to extend kindness to a classmate. This anecdote becomes the basis for his exploration of the evolving nature of kindness, its challenges, and its transformative impact on life.

Analyzing these themes, Saunders critically assesses the inherent hurdles to consistent kindness, emphasizing its crucial role in personal growth and human connectivity.

Saunders’ Regretful Memory

Reflecting on a poignant moment from his school days, Saunders illustrates a profound regret over a missed opportunity to extend kindness towards a shy classmate. The memory is not steeped in grandeur, but rather in mundane, everyday interactions where kindness could’ve easily been dispensed.

From an analytical standpoint, this regret serves as a powerful illustration of Saunders’ main thesis – the importance of kindness. It’s a critical reminder of the consequences of indifference, of the lasting impact minor incidents can have.

The specific memory, detailed and vivid, enables Saunders to effectively convey his message, while simultaneously offering a self-critique. The regret is his failure to see beyond himself, underscoring the need for empathy and compassion.

Evolving Nature of Kindness

Drawing on Saunders’ poignant reminiscence, it becomes clear that kindness is not a fixed trait but rather a quality that evolves and deepens over time.

Saunders’ narrative illustrates how kindness can be cultivated and nurtured, evolving from a simple act of consideration into a profound level of empathy and compassion. This evolution is not spontaneous; it is the result of reflection, introspection, and a conscious decision to prioritize the well-being of others.

Saunders suggests that an increased capacity for kindness is a natural corollary of aging and personal growth. The transformation of kindness also manifests itself in the way we perceive and respond to the world around us, influencing our actions, decisions, and interactions with others, thereby shaping our collective human experience.

Challenges to Consistent Kindness

Despite the emphasis on kindness, achieving consistent benevolence presents its own unique set of challenges, as illustrated vividly in Saunders’ narrative. The human propensity towards self-centeredness often overshadows the inherent desire for benevolence, leading to a struggle between self-interest and altruism. Saunders highlights this internal conflict, citing it as a significant hurdle in maintaining consistent kindness.

Furthermore, societal pressures and the pursuit of personal ambitions can deter individuals from practicing regular compassion. Saunders suggests that this struggle, while demanding, is crucial to personal growth and the creation of meaningful experiences. He urges his audience to tackle these challenges head-on, embracing kindness as a fundamental aspect of their character, despite the inherent difficulties.

The narrative thus serves as a poignant reminder of the constant striving required to embody kindness.

Learnings

In ‘Failures of Kindness’ by George Saunders there are 3 key learnings. Let’s delve into these:

Saunders’ Life Lessons

Saunders shares personal anecdotes to emphasize the significant impact of kindness and the deep regrets tied to moments of failure in being kind. He presents kindness as a pivotal element in:

• Personal growth: Reflecting on his own life, Saunders suggests that our experiences, especially the moments we fail to act kindly, are crucial in shaping our character and worldview.
• Creating positive memories: The memories that linger and impact us most are often those where we acted with kindness or failed to do so.
• The cyclical nature of growth: Life experiences, including aging and parenthood, naturally incline us towards being more selfless and embracing love over material success.

These insights serve as a reminder of the lasting impact our actions and choices have on ourselves and others, advocating for a life led by kindness and empathy.

Cultivating Daily Kindness

Saunders emphasizes that kindness is a skill that requires dedication and practice to develop, suggesting ways to integrate kindness into our daily lives:

• Mindfulness in interactions: Being present and empathetic in our interactions can foster a more compassionate environment.
• Empathy and compassion: Understanding and sharing the feelings of others are crucial steps toward acting kindly.

Cultivating kindness involves more than just aspiring to be kind; it requires actionable steps and a conscious effort to impact others positively.

Overcoming Selfishness Struggles

Acknowledging selfishness as a natural human tendency, Saunders explores the importance of consciously choosing kindness to counteract self-centered behaviors:

• Self-awareness: Recognizing our selfish tendencies is the first step towards change.
• Life as a catalyst for selflessness: Significant life events can prompt a shift from selfishness to a more altruistic outlook.

Saunders argues for a deliberate effort to practice kindness, positioning it as an antidote to the inherent selfishness within us. He presents kindness not as an inborn trait but as a virtue that can be cultivated with intention and action.

‘Failures of Kindness’ Speech

Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).

And I intend to respect that tradition.

Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.

So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse?” (And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that. Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.

But here’s something I do regret:

In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.

So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” — that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”

Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.

And then — they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.

One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.

End of story.

Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.

But still. It bothers me.

So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:

            What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.

Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded . . . sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.

Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?

Those who were kindest to you, I bet.

It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than:

                                                    Try to be kinder.

Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?

Here’s what I think:

Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are:

1. We’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really);
2. We’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and
3. We’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).

Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.

So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc?

Well, yes, good question.

Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.

So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition — recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.

Because kindness, it turns out, is hard — it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include . . . well, everything.

One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish — how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now).

        Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving.

I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now.”

And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.

Congratulations, by the way.

When young, we’re anxious — understandably — to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you — in particular you, of this generation — may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can . . .

And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously — as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.

Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.

So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf — seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.

Do all the other things, the ambitious things — travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality — your soul, if you will — is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Teresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.

And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.

Conclusion

In summary, Saunders’s address illuminates the profound impact of kindness on personal growth and societal transformation.

His exploration of the challenges and regrets linked with its absence serves as a stark reminder of the need for consistent nurturing of selflessness and love.

The discourse presents a cautionary tale against prioritizing materialistic success over existential fulfilment, reinforcing the power of kindness as an essential life goal and a tool for positive change.

 

You can read the rest of the speech collection here:

Speech collection