He Fa on Sartre

Two rows of buttons arrange two parallel orders on the dark gray pinstriped suit, while a narrow tie runs down between them. One button fastened wrongly will pull the whole front askew. Sartre's outfit brings to mind a familiar stubbornness: having chosen, every subsequent step must prove the first one right, even as the body becomes increasingly uncomfortable.

I am willing to locate the dignity of choosing somewhere plainer. A decision closes certain possibilities for now and lets others arrange their affairs accordingly. If every inconvenience allows us to declare that this was not a real choice, promises carry no weight. But if a choice cannot be examined again once made, an earlier error acquires an endless supply of new costs.

This face of He Fa's does not make the dilemma into a heroic monologue. Perhaps one button is misaligned, and stopping to correct it will let us carry on. Perhaps correcting it requires a few minutes of explanation to someone waiting. A decision's worth therefore lies not only in its decisiveness, but in whether it leaves ways to discover deviations and is willing to admit that adjustment is not without loss.

Some may repeatedly change their minds in the name of correction and leave the risk to their partners. Others may invoke responsibility to demand that everyone follow an error to the end. To distinguish them, ask who proposes the change, who bears it, and what facts are new. There is no need to start every time with a trial of someone's whole character. Clarifying the button at hand, the time and the consequences will already make the argument much more accurate.

I still wear the double-breasted jacket; I have not torn off every button in praise of freedom. The pinstripes can continue, but their direction needs realigning. Admitting that this time I buttoned it wrong does not cancel everything before it. It frees the steps ahead from having to defend the whole world on behalf of a single button.