Paying attention always comes with a price
25 years ago, Michael Jordan, possibly one of sport's’ greatest athletes, drained a 20-foot basketball shot to give the Chicago Bulls an 87-86 lead against the Utah Jazz with 5.2 seconds left of Game 6 of the 1998 NBA finals. The below iconic photo captured the moment.
I’m not much of a basketball fan. But it’s not the sport, or the players, that’s interesting in this picture. I prefer focusing on the spectators. The crowd embodies a veritable sea of emotions: crossed arms, hands on heads, hands to mouths, mouths agape, pursed lips, pensive stares. Their attention is centred on one thing; the greatness unfolding before them.
A quarter of a decade later, on February 7, 2023, LeBron James broke the NBA’s all time points scoring record. A moment that will, in time, likely become as recognisable as Jordan’s highest of highs, and one that moved LeBron to cement his place at the top of the pantheon of basketball greats, alongside Jordan. This was how that moment was captured:
There are very few crossed arms in the crowd. Or hands on heads. It’s hard to see if mouths are agape, or if lips are pensively pursed. Because all we can see are smartphones held aloft in front of faces. A view of sporting immortality being witnessed through a 7-inch digital screen - while the greatest points scorer in basketball history is mere feet away, in the flesh, and shedding sweat.
There’s a reason why we use the phrase ‘pay attention’.
When we pay for something, we necessarily have to give something else up. When we pay for a TV, we have to relinquish money. But price isn’t always monetary. The price we pay for maintaining good health is to occasionally give up the comfort of sitting on a couch.
Those paying attention to capturing an iconic sporting moment on their phones - one that will be professionally photographed by many journalists - give up the opportunity to experience the raw, unique emotion of that moment. That is the price they pay for taking that photo.
When we give our attention to something, a moment, a person, we have to give up thinking about something else. This is the price we pay to give attention to someone.
Simone Weil was a French philosopher who lived a short life from 1909 to 1943, and delivered notable philosophies on work, suffering, and love. Thinking about attention, she wrote:
“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.”
It is a rare and beautiful thing to pay someone your full attention.
In other words, to forego thinking about anything else, while listening to someone. To put aside your worries about your mortgage, your insecurities over your own relationships, or failings, the pain of your aching hip, in the name of receiving the words of another fully. Weil went on to say, “Attention, taken to its highest degree, presupposes faith and love.” Paying attention to someone wholly is an act of love.
It’s more natural to associate the idea of ‘paying attention’ to others, or to things. But what I take from Weil’s second quote, is the emotive reasons behind why we should pay attention to ourselves.
When we pay someone our full attention, we are approaching them with faith and love - we are saying that they are worthy of being listened to. We are showing that we are willing to sacrifice something else for them as the person they are. Paying attention to ourselves should embrace those some ideals, approaching our own behaviours with goodness of faith and the comfort of love. But how often do we view ourselves in this way?
Adam Smith, the Scottish economist most commonly associated, yet often misinterpreted, for his theories of self-interest, speaks more consciously about the role of sympathy in society. He put forward the idea of the ‘impartial spectator’. The idea of this I liken to a friendly parrot. Not the kind that talks, or squawks rude phrases, or begs you for a cracker. More like an inquisitive, caring cockatiel.
Adam: Your impartial spectator
In fact, Adam, your ‘impartial spectator’, is just someone who follows you around, quietly, observing what you do.
Like a non-judgemental, non-talkative parrot. Adam’s role is simply to observe your actions. And to prompt you to ask yourself the following question:
Do you feel that your actions are contributing to the greater good? Do you feel that you are acting in sympathy with those around you?
In his book, ‘How Adam Smith Can Change Your Life’, author Russ Roberts says the following:
“Imagining an impartial spectator encourages us to step outside ourselves and view ourselves as others see us. This is a brave exercise that most of us go through in life avoiding or doing poorly.
But if you can do it and do it well, if you can hover above the scene and watch how you handle yourself, you can begin to know who you really are and how you might improve.
Stepping outside yourself is an opportunity for what is sometimes called mindfulness— the art of paying attention instead of drifting through life oblivious to your flaws and habits.”
The idea of paying attention to our flaws and habits sounds intrinsically judgemental, and scary. Until we remember, and accept, that we are all flawed. And if this is true, then we are all coming from the same starting point. It is, after all, what makes us all human.
Let’s remind ourselves of Simone Weil’s words:
“Attention is the purest and rarest form of generosity”.
To pay attention to ourselves, is to be generous to ourselves. To observe our own flaws and habits, is to recognise that we are not alone in having them.
It is human to have flaws.
But if we wish to improve ourselves, we must accept those flaws.
But in order to accept our flaws, we must first be aware of them.
And hence why we need the ‘impartial spectator’ in our lives. One who pays attention to our actions, flawed though they might be. But one that pays attention with love and the goodness of faith that we are well-meaning. Adam’s impartial spectating encourages a generosity of spirit towards ourselves.
Adam might witness us in the midst of a moment of sporting history, and question why we would rather experience that through a piece of digitised glass than our own sensorial experiences. If we were to step outside ourselves in that moment, we may very well ask that same question. But Adam doesn’t ask this question with judgement, or malice. Adam asks it in the spirit of generosity, prompting us to simply pay attention to our own behaviour.
In the hope that perhaps in the future, we might choose to leave our phone in our pocket and soak up the sounds, movements, feelings and emotions of the experience itself.
The impartial spectator is on our side. Adam wants us to be better. Adam wants us to not only pay attention to ourselves, but to be generous while doing it.
The impartial spectator can fill many roles in our lives.
In moments when we lose our temper, Adam can ask us to reflect on why that might have been the case, and how we might handle things differently next time
In times when we feel sad, unmotivated or unsure of ourselves, Adam might ask us to look beyond ourselves to question why that might be, in the hope of doing something about it
When feeling aggrieved towards another - a work colleague, or partner, perhaps - Adam might encourage us to reflect on both why we might experience that reaction, and how the other party might be feeling at the same time
What examples can you think of where Adam might be able to help you to keep an impartial, generous spectator on your shoulder?