Preflection, Reflection, and the Courage Not to Deflect

As Yom Kippur approaches, I have been thinking about a word I recently learnt: preflection.

I had never heard it before, but it stayed with me. We know what it means to reflect: to look back at our actions, choices, silences, and mistakes. Reflection asks us to examine the past honestly enough to learn from it. Preflection asks us to begin that process before the moment is finished. It imagines looking back from the future and wondering: Who was I in that moment? What did I notice, what did I ignore, and what did I do when looking away felt so much easier?

When we read about history, it is comforting to imagine that we would have been among the morally clear or courageous. It is easy to pick the right side when we already know how the story ends. But the people living through history did not know how it would unfold. They were living with uncertainty, competing explanations, fears, loyalties, pressures, and justifications. They had incomplete information. They had reasons to remain silent. They had people telling them that the situation was complicated, that it was not their responsibility, or that speaking up would only make things worse.

History is not only what happened long ago. History is also what is happening now, while we are still inside it, while its meaning remains unsettled and uncertain. Preflection asks us to consider what kind of person we hope to have been when the present becomes history.

This is where anxiety can get in the way. Anxiety often narrows our attention towards immediate self-preservation: protecting ourselves, avoiding discomfort, finding certainty, or identifying someone to blame. For children and teenagers, this might look like avoiding a difficult conversation, refusing to admit a mistake, blaming a sibling, shutting down, or insisting that something is “not a big deal” because acknowledging it feels too uncomfortable. Adults do these things too. We may become defensive, withdraw, or focus so intensely on what someone else did that we no longer notice our own part. Sometimes we project our discomfort outward so that we do not have to examine ourselves. We deflect.

Of course, other people can cause harm, and responsibility is not always equally shared. Looking inward does not mean excusing injustice or pretending that every conflict is symmetrical. But there is a difference between acknowledging what someone else has done and using their behaviour to shield ourselves from our own choices.

Reflection requires us to look honestly at what happened, how we participated, what we failed to do, what we were protecting ourselves from, and what may need to be repaired. Preflection asks us to begin that process before the story is complete, to consider, while we are still making choices, what we may later wish we had seen or done differently.

Perhaps the question is not only, “What would I have done then?” Perhaps it is: What kind of actor would I have wanted to be, and how can I be that person now, in this place and at this time? This does not require certainty or a perfect solution. It requires us to know ourselves honestly and remain engaged with what is happening around us. We may not be able to determine how the story unfolds. But we participate in it through what we say, what we do, what we tolerate, what we challenge, and what we choose not to see.

To reflect is to look back with honesty. To preflect is to prepare ourselves to look back with honesty at what is happening now. To deflect is to place all responsibility somewhere else.

We do not need to be perfect actors. We need to be willing ones - willing to notice, to question, to take responsibility for our part, and to make repairs when we can.

Wishing everyone meaningful preflection, reflection, and as little deflection as possible.

*Thank you to Rachel Goldberg-Polin for introducing me to the concept of preflection.