I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be truly helpful. It seems the biggest obstacle to genuine help isn't a lack of good intentions, but a rigid attachment to being right about the solution we offer. I read this piece on Moral Competence^[1] recently that crystallized this for me; which argues that wanting to help isn't enough, you have to actually be good at helping.

I see this all the time. We find a solution that works for us - maybe it's walking, a specific productivity hack, or a particular diet. It becomes our truth. So when we see a friend struggling, we hand them our solution like it's the only map out of the woods. "Here," we say. "This is the way."

So, what happens when your friend is sad, and your belief system says therapy would be a life-saving raft, but they're just not ready? Perhaps they are too weary or afraid to grab hold, so they push it away?

The easy, dogmatic response is to get frustrated, to think, "Well, I gave them the answer. If they won't listen, that's on them." We walk away, confident in our "rightness." But our friend is still sad. The problem isn't solved. And we've failed the one thing that mattered: actually helping.

This whole train of thought finally led me back to the beautiful concept from Jain philosophy called Anekāntavāda^[2], which humbly states that nothing has just one side.

Anek (अनेक्) = "Not one" or "Many"
Anta (अन्त) = "Ends", "Sides", or "Aspects"
Vāda (वाद) = "Doctrine", "Theory", or "School of thought"

It is simply translated to "no-one-perspective-ism" or "many-sidedness".

There's a classic parable of a few blind men describing an elephant. One man touches the leg and says, "An elephant is like a tree!" Another touches the trunk and says, "No, it's like a snake!" Another touches the tail and insists, "You're both wrong, it's a rope!"

They're all correct from their own limited experience. But they're all completely wrong in their absolute conclusions.

Hence, the friend's sadness is a complex reality aka the 'elephant' of suffering. It has psychological, social, biological, and spiritual dimensions. Thus, the solution can have many sides, here that is, professional therapy, compassionate listening from a friend, exercise and diet, spiritual comfort, or simply having someone who doesn't give up on them.

We all can exhibit the qualities of a blind man. When we choose to cling to the one "right" way to help, we're just touching one part of the elephant and ignoring the friend's side of the story, that's their fears, their history, their unique perception of reality.

So, what's the antidote?

Jainism offers a practical tool for this called Syādvāda, or the "Doctrine of Maybe." It sounds philosophical, but it's incredibly down-to-earth. It just means adding a mental "maybe" to your convictions.

"Syāt" means "from a certain point of view," "perhaps," or "maybe."

This tiny word is a game-changer for human interaction.

Instead of telling our sad friend, "You need to go to therapy," we can instead think:

"Maybe therapy is the best long-term solution."
"But maybe, right now, what they really need is something else"
"Maybe, if I ask them, they will tell me to just sit with them and watch a feel good movie."
"Maybe being a steady, non-judgmental presence is the help I can offer today."
(Cue is to ask them)

It transforms the conversation from a command to an exploration. It replaces "This is the way" with "How can we figure this out together?" It transforms us into a partner instead of a preacher.

This shift does one more vital thing: it holds us accountable for our impact, not just our intention. We can have the purest intention in the world - to save our friend with the perfect solution. But if our rigid action pushes them away, the impact is harm and hurt. The moral failure isn't in our intention, but in our refusal to correct our action when we see it isn't working.

Anekāntavāda teaches us that our first perspective is limited. Syādvāda gives us the humility to admit when our initial action, however well-intentioned, was a mistake. This is where we often get stuck: admitting our action caused harm feels like admitting we are a bad person, when it just means we're human.

I'm learning to be less in a state of a static 'problem solver' and more in the dynamic loop: act, observe the impact, and if there's hurt, find the flexibility to fix it. It’s the work of making sure our actions align with our ultimate intention: to truly help, not just to feel like we were right. It could look like saying:

"Let's put my ideas aside for a moment and focus on what you need to feel comforted right now. We can tackle the rest when you're ready. Your well-being is the only goal."

This ancient wisdom has completely reframed how I think about helping and approaching relationships in many aspects. It isn't about having the perfect answer. It's about having the humility to know that my answer is just one part of the truth. It's about prioritizing the person over the principle, the connection over righteousness, and openness to perspectives over dogmatism.

Perhaps, this path would lead us to be more morally effective, and have the pragmatic humility and a commitment to repair that evolves our inter-personal relationships to be more nurturing.

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[1] Moral Competence by Evan J Conrad [2] Anekāntavāda: The Relativity of Views