tudies show that when economic or political instability intensifies, so does the willingness to take greater risks — a reality that often leads to spikes in criminal activity during periods of economic recession, political turmoil or rising unemployment. Faced with escalating costs, shrinking opportunities and the pressure to “make it” before time runs out, the instinct for survival seems to demand a relentless focus on results.

Being a teacher has afforded me a unique insight into this reality. Many of the students I meet are shaped by an unyielding drive — a sense that every moment must be productive, that every connection must serve a purpose, as if vulnerability and reflection are luxuries they simply cannot afford. However, this survival-oriented mindset comes at a cost: we lose sight of what it means to be open and genuine with one another. To truly connect, to learn in ways that transcend mere mechanics, we must allow ourselves to be vulnerable — a quality that harsh times seem to teach us to suppress.

In a culture that demands resilience, we often construct a facade of strength, a shell that keeps others at a distance. While this may offer short-term protection, it risks eroding the very qualities that make us fully alive: trust, empathy and a willingness to let our guard down.

This tension between pursuing a life of lightness — free from heavy commitments — and embracing the weight of responsibility lies at the heart of Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Published in 1984 and set against the backdrop of the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia, the novel tells the story of Teresa and Tomas, whose intertwined lives foreground a philosophical exploration of lightness and weight.

At its centre is Tomas, a surgeon and serial adulterer who embraces “lightness.” Willfully free of burdens, he shuns labels and ideals, justifying his physical unfaithfulness (mere sex) with the claim of emotional faithfulness (his love for Teresa). In many ways, Tomas’s life — defined by transient pleasures — reflects a survival-focused mindset, appearing free yet at risk of leaving him adrift, lacking depth and connection.

One of Tomas’s mistresses, Sabina, a free-spirited artist, takes lightness to an extreme, betraying others through her utter lack of commitment. In contrast, Tomas’s wife, Tereza, embodies heaviness, giving herself wholly — body and soul — to her husband. Her love is binding, not inherently bad, but undeniably heavy.

In examining the divide between lightness and weight, Kundera draws on Nietzsche’s concept of eternal recurrence — the idea that every action we take will repeat infinitely, as though we are destined to relive the same life, with the same choices, over and over again. This concept profoundly impacts the notion of freedom: if our lives, with all their decisions, were to recur eternally, would we still choose to live them in the same way?

Kundera uses this idea to question whether a ‘light’ life, unburdened by commitments, holds as much meaning as one lived with the ‘weight’ of responsibility and purpose. In explaining Nietzsche’s philosophy, Kundera asserts that eternal return signifies a heavy burden because “in the world of eternal return, the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make.” He then poses the central question that drives the novel: “Is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?”

The allure of lightness is undeniable, especially in an era where individualism and self-fulfillment are often celebrated as ideals. A life free from attachments allows for spontaneity and exploration, enabling the pursuit of personal desires without the fear of disappointing others. Lightness offers a logical means of avoiding the pain that often accompanies deep connections, sparing one-self the inevitable disappointments, betrayals and losses that relationships can bring.

Kundera encapsulates this appeal through Tomas, who navigates his relationships free from moral quandaries, finding a way to experience love without being weighed down by it. The argument for lightness is compelling: living un-tethered can shield one from the vulnerabilities and sacrifices relationships demand. This avoidance of weight isn’t merely escapism — it’s a calculated form of self-preservation. By remaining detached, one sidesteps the emotional toll of attachment, redirecting energy towards personal goals, creativity or the simple pleasures of life, unencumbered by interference.

Kundera’s novel, however, offers a philosophical lens through which we can view our lives — not simply in terms of happiness or sadness, but as a series of choices between lightness and weight.

Lightness, at its core, is a method of self-preservation, offering the promise of an unburdened existence — a life that flows freely, unencumbered by the emotional complexities that deeper connections inevitably bring. In a world where survival often demands resilience, this approach appears as an attractive way to navigate life without the weight of vulnerability and attachment.

The interplay of opposites is a recurring theme in storytelling, often used as a powerful device to illuminate themes and define characters more clearly. Contrasts provide a lens through which ideas and personalities can be understood. For instance, the morality and righteousness of Imam Hussain (with whom Allah was pleased) are best appreciated when juxtaposed with the tyranny and of Yazid. Milan Kundera employs this tool masterfully in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, weaving together the opposites of weight and lightness through the lives of Tomas, Teresa, Sabina and Franz. Each character’s choices offer a distinct perspective on love, purpose and the existential tension between freedom and responsibility.

Kundera suggests that weight is a crushing burden that “pins us to the ground.” Yet, weight is what most of us long for because “the heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.” Tomas, who lives moment to moment, shuns this kind of introspection, his pursuit of lightness driven by a rejection of responsibility. Teresa, however, embraces weight in her life, welcoming the burden of compassion, love and commitment despite the challenges it brings. In exploring these characters, Kundera questions if lightness truly liberates us, or if it simply frees us from the very things that give life meaning. In the novel, the concepts of lightness and weight are intricately interdependent on Nietzsche’s myth. Eternal recurrence, then, forces us to confront the significance of our decisions i.e. we should live in such a way that all of our actions will be “worthy of eternal repetition.”

“For there is nothing heavier than compassion; not even one’s own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.”

Many analyses of the novel have made the claim that due to the characters all facing unhappy fates, with Franz’s yearning for his love, Sabina’s regret, and both Teresa and Tomas meeting their demise through a car accident, Kundera seems to refute the idea that there is much significance to the choice between lightness and heaviness.

Kundera’s novel, however, offers a philosophical lens through which we can view our lives — not simply in terms of happiness or sadness, but as a series of choices between lightness and weight. Each of these paths presents its own unique set of challenges: like Sabina, we can choose lightness, embracing freedom and a life unbound by deep commitments. While this choice may bring moments of fulfillment, it risks leaving us with a sense of insignificance. Alternatively, we can choose weight, like Teresa, who embraces connection, vulnerability and purpose, even when these bring betrayal, sacrifice and hardship. For Kundera, the significance lies not in which path we choose, but in the freedom to make the choice itself. Ultimately, his work doesn’t focus on convincing readers of an ethical agenda. Rather, it employs narrative as a tool for philosophical inquiry and exploration. In doing so, he gies readers the space to reflect on their own lives, leaving the story to unfold naturally, as all great storytelling does.

While Kundera himself states that it is unknowable which one is more desirable, the resolution of the story can be interpreted differently if one is able to shift perspective. Death is not an unhappy fate; it is just an inevitable one. Teresa and Tomas died having made the choice to accept heaviness, together having accepted one another for all their flaws and accepting the sacrifices that each had to make for the other. The way the narrative unfolds, therefore, could more aptly be read as an affirmation of their fulfilled choice, a indication that, perhaps, the sharing of burdens can offer a paradoxical form of freedom and lightness.

In a society where resilience is seen as key to survival and vulnerability as risk, the choice becomes even more poignant. In my experience, I see how everyone around me oscillates between these extremes, either embracing the transient or feeling the weight of an uncertain future bearing down on them. For me, the choice between lightness and weight is most apparent in how I balance my roles as a teacher, a mentor and an individual navigating my own path. The temptation of lightness is alluring: to distance myself from the emotional complexities of my work, to focus solely on achieving professional milestones without the ‘distractions’ of relationships or introspection. But, the narrative suggests, both approaches come with consequences: to avoid weight is to risk emptiness, and to embrace it is to endure vulnerability. I have learnt that the most meaningful connections come not when I try to shield myself from the weight of responsibility, but when I embrace it — when I allow myself to care deeply, even if it means enduring the vulnerability that comes with it.

The writer is a researcher and counsellor at the Trinity School and co-founder of Cicero Counselling, specialising in guiding students through their academic and career journeys. He can be contacted at sarangaamir405@gmail.com.