Entitlement in Our Times

Hello and welcome to rewilding philosophy, your newsletter about ekoPhilosophical health for our times. As I don’t get tired of saying, philosophy is something to be practiced, it’s a life long process of self-transformation that requires not just good theory (though that's part of it), but also embodiment. Today, we focus less on theory and more on practice.

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Approaching the checkout at the supermarket, I sigh; the line is too long for my busy life—there are six people in front of me. I walk straight up to the cashier and ask if he can call for a new checkout to open. Seven seconds later, a new cashier arrives. I see others who were technically ahead of me getting ready to switch lines. But since I asked, I come prepared and am quick. I walk straight up to the new cashier and pay.

It’s rainy outside, 5 pm in Berlin. I’m on my way home from a long day at work, taking the subway. It’s crowded, but I get lucky and find a seat. At the next station, an elderly person enters the wagon, clearly in need of a seat. Why should I get up, I wonder? Others seem to wonder the same. No one moves until her husband asks a young man to do so. He complies.

I am hungry and crave something nourishing. I want a salad to go. I am in a rush. Fortunately, I find a supermarket that sells pre-packaged salads. For a moment, I pause and wonder if I should really buy lettuce wrapped in plastic, accompanied by a plastic fork and dressing in plastic. "Today it’s fine," I mutter to myself. "I already do so much anyway."

I have lived scenarios like this or similarly, hundreds of times.

Moments in which all I think about is satisfying my personal "need." Moments where I see that others also have their needs—the other customers in line, the elderly lady, the more-than-human who suffocates from our plastics—and despite that, I prioritize my own. It’s not that I am unconcerned, but I don’t care—when care also means taking action. For a moment, I put my own needs first. I think they are more important. I feel entitled to fulfill them.

In “Psychological Roots of the Climate Crisis” Sally Weintrobe argues refers to this sort of thinking is exceptionalism, a rigid psychological mindset, which is largely responsible for the climate crisis.

“Exceptions, people caught up in this mindset, falsely believe they are entitled to see themselves in idealized terms; have whatever they want (because they are ideal); dispense with moral and practical limits through omnipotently ‘rearranging’ reality.”

She also says that most of us, unless we are saints, have an inner exception that thinks like this at times. We are mostly able to keep this exception in check. Yet, exceptionalism - as she refers to it - is when exceptions gain power to set the political agenda and largely determine how we live together as a society. “Exceptionalism, old in human history, has triumphed globally in the last forty years. We have lived in Exceptionalism’s Golden Age.”

We have created a society by exceptions for exceptions. Our incentives, infrastructures, and businesses were built in a way that makes us care less, not more. We live in a culture that encourages immediate gratification and convenience at the expense of long-term sustainability and empathy. As a result, we have become increasingly disconnected from the consequences of our actions, both on a personal and societal level. How many children would still want a Snickers if they knew that for the chocolate, other children had to work, trees were cut down, the atmosphere was heated, and the plastics pollute oceans and ecosystems (including their own bodies)? We outsourced negative consequences, made them invisible, so we can enjoy our exceptionalism. The dominant narrative of human separation and superiority from the more-than-human world does the rest.

I see this sense of entitlement play out not just in me, but also frequently in other people in situations where they can either express care or entitlement. Be it through consumption choices, staying inactive when activism is needed, or merely expressing kindness towards other human and nonhuman people.

Entitlement and Self-Care

An archetypical story of our times is the caring mother who never stops giving and caring: for her children, her elderly parents, and in her job as a nurse. At one point, usually in her midlife, something flips. She is fed up with caring for others, starts visiting seminars that empower her, and puts herself first. “Self-care isn’t selfish” are the slogans that we often see, like this:

Photo by Jared Rice on Unsplash

There is a thin line between self-care and entitlement.

When I talk about self-care here, I mean the version of self-care in our times that is shaped by capitalistic ideas and usually revolves around consumption, such as beauty products, yoga retreats, and shopping sprees. We’ve drifted quite far from the origins of self-care. Self-care wasn't invented by corporate bosses or in beauty product factories—it was a political demand, primarily formed by Black communities. To this day, the American healthcare system disadvantages many people who suffer from discrimination, racism, or poverty. During the 1960s and 1970s, in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement, the women's rights movement, and resistance groups like the Black Panthers, new approaches to mutual support and healthcare emerged. They  established their own hospitals and provided healthcare to support to Black people, ensure safe childbirth, and secure survival in a failing system. They referred to it as self-care. It was a movement offering people from the "bottom" what was denied to them from the "top."

Unlike the origins of self-care, which addressed what people lacked and offered concrete solutions, we skip over the political dimension. Why don't we have energy? Why do we feel burned out? We try to counter everyday stress with self-care. However, we no longer understand it as mutual support; instead, we treat ourselves to something nice, like chocolate, shoes, or cellphones, or we meditate and do a mini-retreat to get fit for everyday stress again.

Self-care, when understood in its original form, was a relational practice that had nothing to do with entitlement.

Entitlement and Entanglement

There is a thin line between entitlement and co-constitution. Many people feel they have no choice but to participate in degenerative practices, even if they want "out of the system," they can't. We cannot avoid being part of it. Understanding, living with, and taking action within this entanglement is the greatest challenge of our times.

Do we buy the salad in plastic despite knowing better because we feel entitled to, or because we feel like we don’t have a choice? Do we remain silent about environmental concerns at work despite knowing better because we feel entitled to, or because we feel like we don’t have a choice?

While the above questions would ideally have simple answers. They don’t. Sometimes it might be our lack of care; other times, we might truly feel we have no choice. As I described before, in our times, everything seems to have become a moral question. Suddenly, just wanting to eat a healthy lunch can have vast negative consequences that we can take into account. The burden of this responsibility shouldn’t fall solely on the individual, yet the individual is not absolved of responsibility. Being responsible means having the ability to respond, which naturally implies that we do have a choice.

The better question then is not "do we have a choice," because, yes, of course, we do. The question is: Is it within reason to make use of that choice? Is it within reason to abstain from my salad?

It’s too easy to use our co-constitution as an excuse to remain inactive.

If it is within reason is something only I can answer for me and why practical ekoPhilosophy is so utterly important in order to be equipped to actually evaluate this.

Determining if something is within reason is ultimately a personal decision, which is why practical ekoPhilosophy is so important for evaluating this. Ideally, politics and society at large should help us answer these questions through rules and regulations, or societal norms and rituals. For instance, most of us find it reasonable to pay taxes to live in a social state and to throw trash in a bin instead of on the street. However, at the moment, we lack adequate rules, regulations, societal norms, and rituals to help us navigate these choices, such as buying a salad—so we must come up with them ourselves. This can happen in groups, such as within PhilosophyGyms and other philosophical support groups, or individually by practicing philosophy.

Living with Entitlement

There are many lenses through which to view entitlement, and one of these is the shadow.

Entitlement might be the shadow side of our desire to do good on this planet.

As I described last week, the shadow is not just a part of us—individually or collectively—that we suppress, but something that always exists. It’s an ontological primitive. To make light is to make shadow; one cannot exist without the other.

The other side of our strong drive to care for others and address the metacrisis might just be exceptionalism and a sense of entitlement. The more we try to care, the more entitled we might become. Conversely, as many of us begin to question our sense of entitlement, the (golden) shadow of caring for others starts to emerge.

From this perspective, it’s less about which group holds the power and more about which part of our mind—the caring or the entitled part—holds power over us, both individually and collectively.

As described last week, we need rituals to integrate the conflicting forces that struggle for power within us and between us. So, what might those rituals look like?

There are many experts on shadow work. I am not one of them. Yet, I’ve found that the rituals can be quite simple, so I offer you my top three. Instead of listing them, I’ll paint a picture of how I imagine people can work with these concepts.

In the heart of bustling Berlin, where the Victory Column kisses the clouds and neon lights paint the night, lives a community of ekoPhilosophers. The urban dwellers are caught in a paradox: they yearn to do good for the planet, yet struggle with an underlying sense of entitlement, craving spiritual enlightenment that is only found in Bali, along with the latest exotic superfoods and comforts.

Behind the coffee shops and vintage boutiques, an old warehouse had been transformed into a school for introspection and growth. Here, under the flickering glow of LED bulbs, they gather for their rituals.

In a cozy corner filled with mismatched cushions and reclaimed wood tables, they practice shadow journaling. Each person, armed with a handcrafted notebook, pours out their inner conflicts—their desires for sustainability clashing with their love for fast fashion and instant gratification. Through the act of writing, they begin to see the truth in themselves.

On the rooftop garden, where herbs and flowers grow in repurposed containers, the ekoPhilosophers hold group sharing circles. Around a fire pit made from an old drum, they share their struggles and contradictions. One speaks of the guilt felt when buying the latest gadget, another of the frustration of wanting to travel the world while knowing the environmental cost. The circle listens. Through the act of sharing, they begin to see the truth in others.

In the loft above a trendy plant-based café, ekoPhilosophers engage in creative expression. They paint murals on exposed brick walls, craft sculptures from recycled materials, and perform spoken word poetry. Each creation is a cathartic release, transforming inner conflicts into art that resonates with their shared experiences. Through the act of creating, they begin to see the truth of the universe.

Through these rituals, the ekoPhilosophers of the city begin to reconcile their desires with their ideals. They find a way to live in resonance with other people - human and more-than-human. The city buzzes on, forever changed.