In 2022, I thought a lot about control

Published on 24 December 2022

The due date for this essay was 75 days ago. It was not that I’d forgotten about it, the reality was the opposite. The problem has been my daily conflict with the concept this piece of writing is about, and the crippling sense of shame and fear-driven procrastination that sets in when it's lacking. 

Control.

In 2022, I thought a lot about control. This year I’ve experienced the agony of taking it and losing it, several times over. Sudden changes of circumstance (including the end of compulsory remote working), leaving a situation I wasn’t equal in, holding responsibilities I didn’t foresee and making decisions I wasn’t prepared for, felt totally uncomfortable and exhaustingly out-of-control.

Control is such a familiar-sounding concept, but something that we rarely think about. Most of the time, it’s automatic or necessary. And if we do reflect, it’s often in the context of restriction – a self-imposed limitation on cake or cocktails, for example (it is Christmas). Though control can be imagined in an abstract way and explored as a spectrum that spans across so many aspects of life. Control as a subject, or an illusion, has such variety, from the personal level of self-control through to the intricacies of global economic control. It manifests in our relationships with ourselves, with family, with romantic partners, with friends, with colleagues, with organisations, with communities, with governments, with consciousness and moral responsibility.

Control, whether it be at an individual or societal level, is an essential element of wellbeing. A sense of having too little control can feel threatening, just as having too much control can feel threatening.

Control in all its varieties can be likened to influence, management, restraint, or regulation. It gives us predictability, prevents things from going wrong, or steps in when a situation needs corrective action. But when there’s no clear path, or remedy, or solution, off we go down the road to demoralisation, and start to allow our wellbeing to suffer. I’ve thought a lot about whether a good relationship with control is possible – and if so how?

I concluded that control, or understanding how to make peace with it, is more of a theoretical project.

Control is a virtue that requires you to know something about what you are controlling. You have to know the buttons you can push with an anticipation of the effects, an almost mental map of the route to a result (such as roasting a turkey). But when the mental map isn’t on-point (the recipe was for roasting chicken), we can lose control, our needs can go unmet and the experience of dissonance (and a ruined Christmas) steps-up. 

Control is a value that from a philosophical perspective, implies to have freewill, in addition to knowing something about what you are controlling. An easy dictionary definition of freewill is ‘acting without the limitation of fate’. But have you ever been susceptible to believing you had more influence over a result than you actually did? Politicians are undeniably guilty of this. Have you ever convinced yourself that it rained because you didn’t take your umbrella? I have. 

Control, perhaps then, is the skill of choice, as there can be no control without choice. Yet positive decision making is a strategy which is equally volatile when knowledge and freewill are restrained. Regulating impulses and actions is a psychological puzzle questioned over time. Aristotle asked why sometimes thinking is accompanied by motion, and sometimes not?

Control as an ultimate concept relies on informed choosing, without external pressure, and is usually pursued with intention when things aren’t going to plan. Control, in any of its varieties, in the right amount, is an illusion that will almost never be managed. However, our wellbeing relies on our optimism to achieve this, and have just enough control to meet our needs.

Can a good relationship with control be achieved? That’s still a paradox to me.