These are some ideas I have had recently while reading Philip Roth’s novel American Pastoral, which, among other things, examines the nature of our endemic misconception of our fellow actors in this theatre of the absurd, namely the question of identity.
Given the fact we perceive directly (by sight – in a momentary glimpse or an eternal gaze, by sound, by touch and so on) a tiny proportion of the entire human population of the world, the question arises; where do the other 6 billion people live? When I die what conception of the totality of humanity dies with me? Have I lived a life that has engaged with even the slightest notion of the vastness of our species, and more importantly, have my moral choices suffered as a result of this fact? Growing up in this part of the world, I think I will die with a view that is stilted by the blinkered existence of comfort that I have lived to this point, the cataract of wealth and health blinding me to the painful reality of the lives of almost every other person on the planet, save for a relative handful of intimate acquaintances and companions (and of course, family – telling, I added this one on revision.)