I’ve watched season one of “The Squid Game.” Besides providing a new understanding of what it means to be “eliminated,” the story challenged my perspective. For a long time, I’ve heard life described as a game. An old board game, “The Game of Life,” and recent computer games simulate various aspects of life. And the battle metaphor of chess, checkers, and other strategy games is not lost on me. Life is often a battle, or at least a struggle, in which some end up as winners, while others become losers.
I had a professor who often asked whether I did well on an exam or in a performance with a two-word question, “So…winners?” If I hesitated, he would ask with a touch of sadness, “Losers?” To be clear, he never made it about being a winner or a loser. He just drew a connection between success and winning, as if the task at hand was a game. It was good-natured, as in, “win a few – lose a few.” He even described his efforts as a teacher or conductor with these words. Above all, I’ll never forget that he cared about how we were doing and that he believed in us either way.
As wonderful as it is to look back on the encouragement of my college professors, I reflect that many people do not have such support. I was fortunate. I had mentors who helped me learn the game. Unfortunately, much of the world is “eliminated” from the game by circumstances beyond their control.
I looked up the approximate number of people who have died in the years I have been alive: 3.5 Billion. That’s a sobering number, even when I consider that many of those died of common illnesses related to old age – heart disease, cancer, or stroke. What’s not so easy to accept is that many of them died of starvation, or the effects of malnutrition, which means that they could have lived longer if our priorities were better. Add to this all sorts of deaths related to human stupidity and conflict, as well as preventable diseases, pollution, and scarcity, and I get the feeling that too many have been unfairly “eliminated” in the game of life. So far, I am a survivor, not because I am exceptionally good at the game, but because I was fortunate to have been born into circumstances that have insulated me from the worst parts of it. People in Somalia, Sudan, Lebanon, Syria, Afghanistan, Myanmar, Venezuela, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and many other dangerous parts of the world have been much less fortunate.
I can tell myself that merit has something to do with my success in the game. I can even console myself with the knowledge that I did not have any direct involvement with the elimination of those who have predeceased me. Yet, I have the nagging feeling that although I didn’t directly choose to make sure my neighbors on the planet were eliminated instead of me – Squid Game style – my existence has nevertheless depended on an unknown number of people who died for me just the same.
Am I alive because some sacrificed their lives to make my life possible? I’m not just referring to those in the military, law enforcement, healthcare, and many others who help save us from a sometimes-hostile game environment. What about all those who do risky jobs – miners, linemen, construction workers, explorers, test pilots, chemical and oil company workers, and many others who have died trying to make the world better for me and others who have survived the game so far? And I wonder how many would not have been eliminated if we were all more forgiving, generous, and compassionate.
We the living do so because of the sacrifices of those who were eliminated from the game – by accidents, illness, or violence. We owe them a great debt. We must never congratulate ourselves on our ability to play but remain grateful that we have made it as far as we have.
MurrayWorks 