THE OTHER KIND OF LOVE: psychologist Hugh Mackay looks at compassion
It’s an emotion that can take us to towering highs and devastating lows, but among its many guises is a noble love that enriches humanity beyond measure, writes psychologist Hugh Mackay.
Love? Which kind of love? We blithely say, “I love my dog”, “I love chocolate”, “I love my partner”, “I love my children”, “I love my job”, “I love that book … that song … that sunset”. We may even hear ourselves saying, “I love your shoes” with the same kind of enthusiasm as when we say, “I will love you forever”, yet no one assumes we mean the same thing in all those cases.
Because “love” is such a carry-all word, it’s open to misinterpretation. The very power of it – the charm of it, the magic of it – creates the potential for all kinds of misunderstandings.
“Love you!” we might chirrup, as a lighthearted way of ending a phone call – rather like the affectionate little “x” we might add to a text sent to someone we’d never dream of offering more than an air-kiss. Yet even those apparently innocent signals can cause trouble if the person they’re addressed to is hoping for some sign of a more heavily freighted kind of love: “But you sent me a kiss!”
Mostly, we think of love as being about emotion, affection, feelings. And we know that kind of love is vital for our emotional security. To know that we are securely loved – by parents, family, friends, partner – is to know that we are valued, appreciated and accepted. It runs in the other direction as well: to have people we can embrace and support with our love is to give our own life a special meaning and purpose it would lack if we felt our capacity for love had no outlet.
Think of love as being like a bright light at the very core of our being – warming us, animating us and energising us. Yet, like any bright light, love casts deep shadows as well – sometimes of shocking malevolence. Doesn’t our folklore tell us there’s a ne line between love and hate?
And isn’t romantic love sometimes darkened by the shadows of jealousy, possessiveness or doubt? (At such times, we need to remind ourselves that these negative emotions only exist as shadows cast by love). Even within families, rivalries and jealousies sometimes morph into bitterness.
Love’s work often feels like the hardest work of all, especially when a relationship is under strain. It’s no wonder we sometimes seek places to hide from the demands of love –
perhaps in excessive busyness, or in a surrender to addiction or an escape into nostalgia. Though love brings out the best in us, we don’t always want the best to be brought out in us; love promotes goodness, but we don’t always want to be good!
There’s a world of difference between the love that binds us to our families, affection between friends, and erotic love between romantic partners. But there’s an entirely different kind of love that transcends both emotion and affection. This is the love that explains how we can show concern for the wellbeing of total strangers – for example, in our care for each other during this year’s pandemic, our generous response to drought and bush re relief appeals, or our support for Black Lives Matter protests. It explains our kindness towards people in need, whether we know them or not, whether we like them or not, whether we agree with them or not.
The best name for this other kind of love is compassion – that remarkable human quality that motivates us to act respectfully and kindly, not selectively, but as a general rule.
Because we belong to a social species, we utterly depend on groups and communities to sustain and nurture us, and give us a sense of security. What those communities demand from us, in turn, is that we should engage with them by helping to build social cohesion.
And that means we’ll often need to bite our tongue, swallow our pride or bury the hatchet in the interests of social harmony. In other words, we’ll need to draw on our resources of compassionate love to show the appropriate kindness and respect towards everyone we encounter, including those for whom we feel no affection or af nity at all.
Compassion sometimes springs from feelings of pity, or sympathy or concern, but we don’t have to depend on those feelings to trigger the compassionate response. It’s how humans, at their noblest, routinely respond to everyone. Compassionate love is not about desire, either – except perhaps the desire to make the world a better place.
This doesn’t mean it’s the province of saints or martyrs: it can be found in the everyday lives of mere mortals like you and me. Every time we co-operate with each other, we’re acting compassionately. Every act of kindness is an act of compassion.
Romantic love sweeps us away. The love of family and friends wraps us in reassurance about who we are and where we belong. But compassion is human love at its noblest, because it’s the form of love that gives without any expectation of receiving; a gift with no strings attached, a sign of our common humanity.
This other kind of love nurtures a generosity of spirit, but the temptation to be mean-spirited is sometimes irresistible, especially when we’re feeling outraged. This kind of love calls on us to forgive, even though revenge often seems more natural.
This kind of love encourages us to try to understand those who are so different from us that it would be easier to retreat to a position of judgement or hostility. Above all, and very inconveniently, this kind of love asks that we sometimes sacri ce our own needs and preferences in favour of the needs and preferences of others.
To live lovingly – compassionately – is not to be a doormat. Being kind-hearted is not the same as being soft in the head. Being compassionate is not the same as always trying to please others – and it’s certainly not about accepting responsibility for other people’s happiness. Being compassionate does not, for instance, mean that you should stay in a relationship that has run its course, but it does mean that your exit should be as kind, sensitive, gracious and respectful as possible.
Compassion can include ‘tough love’. Compassion can coexist with strict discipline, strong convictions and serious disagreements.
It’s not about giving in to other people’s demands. It’s a particular way of being in the world.
It is perfectly natural for humans to show compassion towards each other, because, in the end, we are each other. Although we like to think of ourselves as independent, we are more like islands in the sea – separate on the surface, but connected to each other deep down. We are all part of a greater whole. If we were to lose our sense of human connectedness, we would risk losing our sense of compassion. Then we would stop living as if we need each other, though we do.
We would fail to recognise that our own mental health depends on the health of the communities we belong to, though it does. We would lose sight of the fact that a good life is a loving life, a life lived for others. What else could it be, since goodness is only ever about responding to other people’s need of our kindness, charity, compassion, respect … our love.
Compassionate love lowers our anxiety level by releasing us from the trap of self-absorption. It generates a disposition to be kind and non-judgemental, and that’s good for everyone. Compassionate people are more likely to apologise when they have hurt or offended someone, and more likely to forgive those who have hurt or offended them – and forgiveness is not only one of the most therapeutic things we can do for other people, but also for ourselves because it frees us from the role of victim.
Compassion changes everything. It encourages us to build a better society by responding to bad behaviour with good behaviour, and by setting an example of kindness and respect over revenge and hate. Above all, it encourages us to treat everyone we meet as if we truly are equals, in spite of all our differences. Romantic love often turns out to be eeting. This other kind of love goes on and on … AWW