When you're smiling

We had a surreal experience a couple of weeks ago. We went to the Caribbean carnival in Brooklyn. Time Out and other listings made it sound fun, and we thought it would be another loud New York experience. We had the Notting Hill carnival in London as our mental model.

Now Notting Hill is not the safest of places, and we are not daft, so we decided to visit in early afternoon towards the start of the parade route. But still we were not prepared for what met us there.

The police presence was vast, as big as anything I had ever seen anywhere. Roads were blocked off about ten blocks from the route, so we found a bright and safe place to park and set off on foot. We immediately encountered a group of NYPD, taking a sideways glance at this party of jolly white people. One guy asked if we were heading to the carnival. “Be very, very careful”, he warned. “I say this to everyone. This is one of the most dangerous events in the country.”

Our jolly white faces immediately became a bit less jolly and a bit pinker. But we walked on, past more police interspersed with rather severe looking locals, until we reached the route, where we found a popular spot combining a good view with a sense of relative safety. Safety was relative by now, and the guy next to me cheerily told me about the two shootings last year a couple of blocks from where we were.

We had some fun. The floats were colourful, the music loud and the skin plentiful. We never saw any trouble though we did see many police, on foot, in cars and passing over in helicopters. After an hour and a half we retreated down the same streets. Still, there was a deep exhalation as we reached the sanctuary of the car and much letting out of emotion on the way home. One more New York experience notched up.

Later I reflected on the carnival. There was something missing and it took me some thought to figure out what. It was joy, smiles, and laughter. Everyone seemed tense. Men hung around with men, women with women. Most discussion seemed sotta voce. There was some latent fear in the air and a distrust of the police, though from what I saw they did a good job in trying to tone down their stance. No doubt some people had a good time, and later in the day people will have let their hair down, but I missed the spontaneity and general happiness I associate with carnivals.

Of course this is hardly my cultural comfort zone, so I have to be careful with conclusions. But perhaps it would not be too surprising if that particular community struggled with joy. Police are everywhere. Few have a steady, well-paid job. Many women are bringing up children on their own. Debt is everywhere, so is prejudice. A frightening proportion of males are in jail, or ex cons, or somehow risking jail (one in three black American men will spend time in jail).

Then over the following days, I started observing others in the city more closely. I see many eyes that are desperately tired. I see eyes with some fear and resentment. I witness many people for whom anger is never far away. I see things to laugh with and smile at, but not all that many smiles or that much laughter.

Coming at things the other way around, there are certainly many reasons to live in misery in this city, even if not from a demographic that appears one step from being stopped and frisked and two from jail. Other demographics have people without papers too, or perhaps without car insurance, or with other reasons to fear what is around the corner. Debt is everywhere, and the evil finance industry capture more and more of us in their grasp. Job security is limited, and support for those losing their job pitiful. Driving on some roads is scary enough to justify a bit of anger. The news is full of shootings and rapes and muggings. I read that 80% of Britons aged fifty think they will never be able to retire, and I expect the proportion to be similar here. Living spaces are tiny, many with bed bugs or vermin issues. Some are often hungry. And those bills keep on arriving.

There is more, and a lot of it is not specific to New York. People live in physical pain, or in fear of illness, or with people in constant pain, or in fear for a loved one’s health. People are chronically lonely, or feeling inadequate or sinful, or abused in a relationship, or fearful for the future of a relationship. People work such long or strange hours that they never get enough sleep. People have jobs of real danger and their associated trauma, or jobs dealing with stressed out people. People obsessed with the supposedly happy lives of Facebook friends or celebrities, which they ram down their own throats all the time. People hate their own bodies and fear what others are saying and thinking. People have hang-ups about sex and sexuality. People are trying all the time to be the cool person they are not and live in fear of exposure and shame. People live with the shame of an addiction, or hide the shame they see in a loved one. People live with the guilt and helplessness of broken or breaking relationships with their own kids or parents. People live in daily fear of local gangs.

You know, I think this covers most of us, of most ages and in most places. I’ve been in one or more of these categories for most of my life. Have you? And most of these are deep anxieties. True, they don’t stop us smiling or having some fun, but they are always there, hurting, in our eyes, compromising even our happier times.

So when we learn that the perpetrator of this week’s US shooting had some history of minor mental illness, should we be surprised? Some are outraged that he retained his security clearance, but, in all honesty, it would be hard to staff the navy, or any other service, only with people with no risk. The only true outrage, as usual, is the ease of access to guns.

Was it always this bad? Some of these anxieties have become more prevalent in the modern era, such as the Facebook type issues, but others have lessened. Overall, things might be a bit better nowadays.

Indeed, I am an optimist for humanity, and some of my optimism is based on the progress in understanding our brains. Perhaps over time we can face up to more of these traumas and control more of them.

The value of progress is certainly high. Just this week I read of two new studies, both confirming hypotheses that seemed correct intuitively. One study found that happy, active people lived longer, especially if they could be creative. The second found that people in poverty and anxiety tended to make worse decisions, thereby trapping themselves in vicious cycles.

While we are waiting for brain science, what else can we do?

As usual, one remedy is getting out of denial. If we are honest about what gives us pain and fear, we can start to address the root causes. We can ask for help. In this case, being honest can also help others, as an antidote to the Facebook disease. I am sure that many people live in the belief that it is only them that is deeply unhappy, while everyone else is like the people in the movies or adverts or as they pretend on social media.

Next, we can review our own life choices. Most of the people I know who have deep peace have simple lives. They also usually have a spiritual dimension to their lives. Most of us can make some trade offs and find a simpler, happier path. Part of this can be achieved by service, helping others.

Next, we can quietly lobby in favour of societal changes that would help everyone. The sort of adversarial, nationalistic politics, economics and work structures that we live in seem designed to increase anxiety. There is another way.

Lastly, we can simply smile more. A smile is a wonderful, contagious thing. One good thing about New York is the willingness of people to engage, and I’ll try to repay this by spreading some happiness. I’ll also continue to count my many blessings, and enjoy experiences such as Caribbean carnivals, as best as I can.