A REFLECTION
This morning, I read an article in Above the Law, a magazine that targets issues relevant to freelance lawyers. In it, editor Elie Mystal lamented the $150,000 debt he assumed to finance his legal education. He called law school debt "The Silent Killer." His experience with debt even caused him to characterize his legal education as an "expensive vacation that debt financed."
In many ways, I am in Elie Mystal's boat. I graduated from law school in 2006 with about $95,000 in debt. Like Elie, I detested private practice and gave it up on principle. You see, I have this little problem: I insist on ethics and honor. That makes private law practice, well, a bit incongruous.
Since 2007, I have done consulting jobs that pay the crushing loan installments. Even more recently, I haven't been able to work at all due my partner's health crisis. The creditors don't care, of course. They just want their monthly checks; they don't give a damn about your problems.
I agree that debt is a "silent killer." Thanks to bank-friendly Bush-era deregulation in place at the time I signed my promissory notes, my loan principal has actually increased since I began repaying in late 2006. In essence, the banks have a permanent lien on my financial lifeblood, which is meager at best. This permanent financial burden robs voluntariness from all my employment decisions: I can't work a public interest job that won't even cover my monthly debt bill. I call this predicament "modern indentured servitude" because debt essentially compels work particular jobs in order to pay off the boulder that has been tied around their necks. Their choices are illusory; they must take a job that pays a certain amount or go bankrupt.
Elie also should have mentioned another issue that contributes to the debt crisis plaguing American graduate students: Deception. To be blunt, I entered law school under almost laughably false economic assumptions. I believed that my legal education would entitle me to an automatic $125,000-a-year job. I had worked at a law firm before law school and everyone there said that a law degree is basically a meal ticket. Law schools perpetuated that belief with "employment statistics" that corroborated my assumptions. Thus, I happily took out $100,000 in loans to finance my meal ticket. After all, I thought, what's $100,000 in debt if I'm certain to have a $125,000-a-year job waiting for me when I'm done?
"Ha! I can pay that off with a single bonus check," I declared in 2003.
What foolishness. But it is widespread foolishness. And every new law student subscribes to it. I know I did. Plus I was a wet-faced 25-year-old who knew nothing about the brutal vagaries of the private employment market. No, I learned the hard way--and only after sinking myself into an intractable debt pit.
Despite all this, I disagree with Elie's assertion that law school was a "very expensive vacation that debt financed." I do not regret my education in the least. I took it seriously; I never felt that I was on vacation while studying. True, it is unfortunate that I had to become an indentured servant in order to obtain my education. But I relish what I learned in law school. As a writer, it helps me every day. It enriched the way I think about every intellectual issue I encounter. I am thankful for my legal education. It pays psychic rewards in the classical sense, even if it does not fill my bank account.
But most people do not get educations--at least in America--to enrich their perspectives. They get educations to get jobs and make tons of money until they die or retire. In my view, this is the fundamental problem with the American system: People do not care about learning for its own sake. They use it merely to become commercial instruments for the rest of their lives. In that light, it is no surprise that debt plays a role in the system. Just as entrepreneurs take out loans in order to make more money in the future, so too do students take out loans in order to transform themselves into "profitable ventures." American students, in other words, are no different than entrepreneurs; they both gamble with debt in order to cash in later. And the goal of education in America is exactly the same as the goal of everyday business: Simple commercial success.
This leads me to my core objection: Shouldn't academic pursuits and crass commercial concerns be distinct? Sadly, the educational debt quandary in America shows that they are not.
That's a shame. And it's ruining many people's lives every day.
If only we could follow Aristotle's prescription for education: "[F]or it is more necessary to equalize appetites than possessions, and that can only be done by adequate education under the laws." The Politics, Book II, ch. vii at 1266b24.
In other words, education should not be a means to obtain "possessions," but rather to refine "appetites." It is not about "having" tangible things. It is about character; and you can't buy that.
Showing posts with label Free Will. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Free Will. Show all posts
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Monday, June 8, 2009
GET A HANDLE ON YOUR EMPLOYEES
EMPLOYERS' WORLD WEEKLY - VOL. 59, No. 3
(SUMMER 2009)
(SUMMER 2009)
SUMMER IS HERE : DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR EMPLOYEES ARE?
By : Mr. G. Stanley Putts, M.B.A., Ph.D., Chairman and Chief Managing Officer, SpeedSave Credit Reporting Associates, Inc. (a Delaware Corporation); Professor, Employee Management Strategy Development, State University of Southern New Jersey School of Business (1988-present); Licensed Psychiatrist in the State of New Jersey.
It's that time of year again. As managers move into the hot months, they face new threats to productivity. Summertime means that more consumers are in the market for business. During the summer, managers face fresh opportunities for growth and profit. But summer also means that employees have other things on their minds. According to Department of Labor Statistics, productivity levels fall at least 43% between June and September, even when payrolls increase. What does this mean? Simple: It means that employees don't do their jobs as well in the summer. Managers need to reverse this alarming trend. To do so, they must do two things: (1) Understand the employee's mind; and (2) Adopt result-oriented measures calculated to increase productivity.
Good managers understand that employees make or break a company. Without motivated employees, companies could not keep their businesses afloat. Without diligent workers to handle the myriad mundane tasks necessary to sustain a profitable outfit--from opening mail to answering phones to proofreading letters to driving trucks--businesses could not grow. Without good employees, businesses would never produce returns for shareholders. And let's not forget who's important. Shareholders put up the capital needed to open businesses; and they want to be rewarded. It's up to us--the managers--to make sure their investments pay off. Employees have no stake in companies. They merely work to ensure that shareholders receive their rewards. In return, the company pays them an amount that allows them to fulfill their own financial obligations without impairing healthy profit levels for the shareholders. In sum, paying employees is a necessary investment. It would be nice if we did not have to pay them anything. But we do not live in a perfect world.
Good managers pay employees just enough to make them feel that they are not being exploited. This is essential; managing pay is a crucial management skill. In fact, good managers know how to set pay precisely to maximize two effects: (1) Shareholder profit; and (2) Employee morale. Shareholder profit is easy; one must merely crunch some numbers and show a higher total this year than last year. But employee morale is much trickier to achieve. After all, there is no quarterly balance sheet column to account for employees' feelings. Yet good managers must master employees' feelings just as efficiently as they must master profit levels. To accomplish that goal, good managers must understand the employee's mind.
As a trained business psychiatrist, I am pleased to offer managers an insight into the employee's mind. Many managers view their employees with barely-veiled contempt. They see them as a nuisance rather than a resource. They see them as ornery children who must be violently restrained in order to maintain favorable productivity levels. Although violence, repression and contempt are appropriate tools in the battle to secure employee morale, one must think more profoundly. Conceptually speaking, employees serve the company. A good servant does not just perform the tasks appointed to him; he also has the proper mental outlook. Servants, in other words, have two duties: (1) They diligently perform required tasks; and (2) They take their motivation from their masters. Thus, there is a physical and mental element to service. In my experience, I have found that the best employees have the best mental outlook. They look to their masters for both direction and meaning. They truly believe in the employer's mission, and their activity derives from their mental dedication to that mission. A truly motivated employee is a loyal servant. His will focuses not on himself, but on his employer's needs. He experiences emotional satisfaction when the employer achieves success. His own desires fade into obscurity. In essence, then, good employees have the proper will. They are not distracted. Their minds merge with the employer's will. They sacrifice their own well-being to please their masters. When a manager succeeds in transforming mere employees into true servants, there is no end to a company's potential success.
But that is Utopian thinking. As managers, we strive to make true servants out of our employees. Yet all too often we must settle for less. All too often, we cannot fully replace every employee's will with the employer's mission. There are always a troublesome residues in the employee's mind: Individual desires, personal wants, dreams, resentments, family tribulations, financial worry. We cannot always fully win over an employee's mind. No matter how much we try, employees always hold a little bit back for themselves. That damages productivity. Productivity demands maximum concentration and dedication to the employer's mission. When an employee is thinking about something other than the employer's success, his work will not be as zealous as it would be if his mind were clear. To that extent, dreams, desires, wishes, fascinations and individual characteristics harm productivity. Employers cannot tolerate this. When employees start thinking about themselves, productivity suffers. And when that happens, profit margins dwindle, injuring the shareholders.
Managers have a duty to please the shareholders. They can do this by getting a handle on their employees. As mentioned, the key to productivity is employee will. The battle for employee will begins with employee morale. To channel employees' will toward the employer, managers must be prepared to adopt result-oriented measures calculated to increase employee morale. Spirited employees with high morale have the proper will. When it comes to employee management, then, good mangers must consider how employees think. As mentioned, employees have a dangerous tendency to think for themselves while on the job. Good managers find ways to eradicate individual thinking among employees and to replace it with high morale. Still, this is no easy task. Individual employees may be thinking about coming weekends, girlfriends, sick parents, outstanding loans, car payments, poor health, their children, sex, last weekend, parties, the beach, vacations, Friday night movies, their homes or even the mere fact that they are hungry. When employees think about these things, they necessarily are not thinking about the employer's mission. This is dangerous.
Worse, employees minds drift even more during hot summer months. They dream about family barbecue get-togethers, beach parties, bikinis, sunbathing, poolside excursions, boat rides, amusement trips and drunken forays in the dunes. More to the point, these thoughts only intensify when employees look outside the window and see how sunny it is, then reflect that they are stuck in an office tower for the next 15 hours. It is no wonder that productivity falls 43% between June and September. Good managers must stop these thoughts before they start. In a word, individual employee thinking is dangerous to employee morale, productivity and shareholder satisfaction. As managers, we have a duty to guard against it at all times. We do not pay employees to be individuals. We pay employees to serve us.
Good managers get a handle on their employees. To eliminate dangerous individual thinking, good managers are not afraid to take bold steps. A good manager does not increase morale by "being nice;" a good manager yells, threatens and creates intense workplace rivalries. "Nice managers" encourage employees to think for themselves. "Nice managers" try to be "friends" with employees. They even give employees "privacy" and "respect" while on the job. Yet this leads only to wasted time and wasted money. Unsupervised employees exploit the business for money while giving nothing back to the shareholders. Good managers, by contrast, scrupulously oversee their employees to ensure proper morale. They segregate employees to minimize small talk, gossip, chatter, joking and laughter. They install surveillance cameras to ensure that only company work motivates employee behavior. They publicly discipline employees who surf the internet for personal reasons while on the job. When necessary, they call lazy workers into their offices for full-scale tongue lashings. In short, good managers create a positive atmosphere in which employees are happy to carry out employer business. In such an atmosphere morale increases and servants serve well. Good managers are like good fathers: They assert their authority strongly and often.
Good managers must not be afraid to scream, yell, insult, degrade, humiliate and belittle their employees. When it appears that an employee represents a danger to employee morale through individual thinking, humor, good temperament or popularity, a good manager must not hesitate to tell him to "Get a grip or get fired." When an employee exhibits a propensity to do things in a manner different from prescribed protocols, a good manager must not hesitate to personally discipline the employee. Willful employees represent a danger to all. If employees do not respect protocols intended to ensure maximum productivity, shareholder satisfaction will suffer. In that light, any attempt to do things differently must be vigorously suppressed. Managers must show that they know best. And they must not be afraid to crush any dissent before it threatens employee morale.
We do not want willful employees. Good employees are good servants, and servants are not willful. In fact, a servant's will is always subservient to his master's will. In that sense, willfulness and service are mutually exclusive. When a manager detects willfulness in an employee, he must act quickly and decisively. Personal insult, threat, reduced pay and isolation represent ample means to eradicate willfulness. Extreme cases may necessitate physical restraint, company re-education or hanging the employee upside down and forcing him to recite the company motto until he exhibits proper respect for the employer's mission. Willfulness cannot exist in the workplace. Good managers tolerate only one will: The will to serve the employer.
Managers must not have moral qualms about the methods they choose to increase morale. True, some methods may alienate employees more than others. But as long as the end result generates more productivity, any method is justified. To that extent, managers cannot sympathize or empathize with employees. Employees are not the same as shareholders. Employees exist to enrich the shareholders, not to enjoy their lives as unique individuals. And managers do not exist to secure comfort and peace for employees. To the contrary, managers exist to please the shareholders, and shareholders will not be pleased with low productivity. In this light, good managers have a clear purpose: To increase employee productivity at all costs. As we have seen, high productivity and high employee morale go hand in hand. In the same vein, high employee morale results when a good manager eradicates dangerous individual thinking among employees and readjusts their will. Thus, good managers have a well-defined task: To vigorously increase productivity by increasing employee morale through the suppression of individual thought.
As good managers, let us strive to reverse the trend this summer. If we understand what it takes to generate high morale, we can get a handle on our employees. The time for understanding and tolerance is over. Good management demands the courage to disparage, suppress, overpower, intimidate, cajole, deceive and badger our employees into productivity and service. After all, we are not doing this for our health. Employees are not individuals. They are the means by which shareholders secure suitable profits. They need to get their heads in the game, and this is a game we need to win. We serve the shareholders. To perform our task, we, too, must view employees for what they are: A means to an end.
We wish you a prosperous and productive summer!
Monday, May 18, 2009
LUCKY OR HAPPY? WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?
AN ESSAY
I often write about happiness and unhappiness. In my view, human beings long to experience good, positive feelings as much as they can in life. Freud thought the same: “What do [men] demand of life and wish to achieve in it? They strive after happiness; they want to become happy and remain so.” Civilization and its Discontents, p. 25. Yet people say they want to be “happy” without really knowing what it means. All they know is that they want to feel good more than they feel bad—or at least more than they feel physical pain. Still, “feeling happy” is complex, especially in American life. Many people cannot feel happy unless they first achieve some “subsidiary aims,” such as making money, owning property or obtaining the “right life mate.” They exhaust themselves seeking these “subsidiary aims” to such an extent that they lose sight of the end goal: Happiness. Instead, they endless obsess over the “subsidiary aims.” In short, “a means” to happiness replaces the “end.”
Money is the best example. Money is a medium; it is a means to obtain other things, things that will ostensibly bring happiness. Yet many people forget this when they set out upon “the money-making life.” Even Aristotle recognized this 2500 years ago. Interestingly, both Freud and Aristotle agree that men seek happiness in life: “…[What] is it that we say…is the highest of all goods achievable by action? Verbally there is very general agreement; for both the general run of men and people of superior refinement say that it is happiness, and identify living well and doing well with being happy.” Ethics, Book I, Ch. 4. But Aristotle expressly ruled out “money-making” as a pathway to true happiness: “The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful and for the sake of something else.” Ethics, Book I, Ch. 5. In other words, Aristotle understood that money is a “subsidiary aim” that is “merely useful…for the sake of something else,” namely, “happiness.” Despite Aristotle’s warning, however, many Americans live their lives for money. They think it will categorically bring them happiness. In so doing, they are “barking up the wrong tree.” Perhaps that explains why so few Americans think they are happy. If “living for money” categorically cannot win happiness, then there is no way a true “money-maker” will ever find happiness.
If money does not bring happiness, what does? In truth, we can forgive many Americans for their error. After all, we are merely sensory creatures. We believe what we see and hear. Our senses tell us that money appears to make wealthy people happy. They appear to want for nothing. They do not worry about their rent or their bills. They drive beautiful cars, go on exotic vacations and do what they want every day. This stands in stark contrast to our own lives, in which money is a constant worry. When money is a worry, it dominates our outlook. It provides too many opportunities for suffering. In these circumstances, we cannot feel the “strongly positive emotions” that mark happiness. Freud said that the “presence of unpleasure” makes happiness impossible. Cf. Freud, Civilization and its Discontents, p. 34. To paraphrase Bobby McFerrin: When we worry, we cannot be happy. Nonetheless, we believe that if we only cast off the “money yoke,” our worries would disappear, leaving our minds free to finally experience “strongly positive emotions.” From our perspective, the rich have that freedom. That is why we think they must be happy. And that is why we think that money will automatically make us happy, too.
But this is a delusion. One must merely pick up a tabloid newspaper to see that even mega-rich superstars are not happy, either. They might not worry about bills and health care, but they find other sources for “unpleasure” in their lives: Cheating boyfriends, bitter divorces, cancer, lost contracts, sagging boobs, wrinkles, potbellies, baldness, betrayals, Oscar snubs, humiliations, criminal prosecutions for disorderly conduct, drunk driving or domestic abuse… the list goes on. Money did not cause pain here. These unhappy stars have plenty of money. Yet they clearly are not happy, either. They simply experience unpleasure from a different source than the rest.
Where are the happy people, then? If wealth does not bring happiness, what does? In America, commerce is King. This is not just left-wing rhetoric: We really think we can buy anything. Why can’t we buy happiness, too? It seems like a cruel joke. If we seek happiness but we can’t buy it, what is all this chatter about “becoming successful” and “working hard?” If neither success, nor hard work, nor money can categorically create happiness, what is the point? We work hard and attempt to become successful because we want the power to buy things. But if we can’t buy happiness, what do we have? Aristotle and Freud say that we all want happiness. At the same time, American life tells us we need to be successful. Yet the two are not consistent. Success and money do not automatically create happiness. They may provide a means to it, but they are not replacements for happiness. Happiness comes from somewhere else, somewhere within ourselves.
Or does it? Can we fool ourselves into happiness no matter our external circumstances? Can we manipulate our attitudes so that we always feel “strongly positive emotions?” To answer that question, we must examine language. While we colloquially understand that “happiness” means a prevalence of “strongly positive emotions” over “negative feelings, stress and pain,” does that mean that external circumstances play no role in the analysis? Or can we become happy by sheer force of will, despite all the ills that fate throws upon us? In other words, are happy people simply “lucky?” If they are, what does that say about all our frantic efforts to “become happy” in life? If happiness is basically just a crapshoot, why bother even trying to “find happiness” in the first place?
This is not a small concern. In English, there is a very close relationship between the concepts “happiness” and “luck.” “Happy” is an ancient English word. It derives from the root “hap,” which in turn stems from the Old English “haep” and Old Norse “happ,” meaning “convenient” or “suitable.” Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Ed. “Hap” means “chance, luck or lot,” or at least an “occurrence or happening.” “Hap” gives rise not only to “happy,” but also to “happen” and “happenstance.” All these words imply purely random, chance occurrences over which human will appears to have little influence. Looking more closely at “happy,” the dictionary tells us that the word means: “1. favored by circumstances; lucky; fortunate; 2. having, showing or causing a feeling of great pleasure, contentment, joy, etc., joyous, glad, pleased; 3. exactly appropriate to the occasion.” Id. A “happy person,” then, appears to have made little effort in life. Rather, he is merely “favored by circumstances” and “fortunate” to feel the way he does. He feels “great pleasure, contentment and joy” because circumstances favor him. But why do circumstances favor him? Because he is simply “lucky?” If he is “just lucky,” does that mean he played a role in his own happiness? Or did “fate” just randomly bless him? Here, we can already see the trouble brewing. To be “happy,” our “circumstances” must “favor us.” We must be “lucky” and “fortunate.” We must benefit from “chance occurrences” and “happenstance” to be “happy.” Our own efforts seem irrelevant to the task. Put simply, “happiness” requires “luckiness.”
So what does “lucky” mean? According to Webster, “lucky” means “having good luck; fortunate.” Webster’s New World Dictionary, 4th Ed. Again, we see “fortune” at work in these concepts. Fortune involves random chance, not purposeful action. And what about “good luck?” “Luck,” like “hap,” is an ancient English word. It derives from the Indo-European root “leuk,” meaning “what bends together” or “what occurs.” That root evolved into the Middle Dutch “luk” and the German “Glück.” In German, “Glück” translates not only to “luck,” but also to “happiness.” Bertelsmann’s Deutsches Wörterbuch tells us that “Glück” means: “1. favorable, fortunate circumstances or a turn of events; a coincidence; 2. the success that comes from that turn of events; 3. a feeling of inner satisfaction and joy, especially after accomplishing sought-after wishes; 4. favorable chance (my translations).” In English, Webster says that “luck” means: “1. the seemingly chance happening of events that affect someone; fortune; fate; 2. good fortune; success; prosperity; advantage.” Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Ed.
In all these words, we see an undeniable link between “chance,” “luck” and “happiness.” In German, the link is intrinsic; “Glück” means both “luck” and “happiness.” It describes not only “chance events” and “favorable occurrences,” but also the “feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that springs from them. It is no coincidence that the English “luck” relates to “Glück.” Although the English definition for “luck” does not list “the feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that springs from chance events, the word “happy” directly implies “luckiness.” See “happy” definition, supra. And both words relate back to the Indo-European notion that “luck” merely means that things “bend together” for a person’s benefit. Put another way, luck is random. Human will does not affect it. It blesses its beneficiaries without regard to their efforts, intentions, wishes or merits.
In this etymological light, does it make any sense to “pursue happiness?” It appears not. After all, it seems that happiness depends on luck. Luck blesses at random; it does not favor those who “really want to be happy” or who “work really hard” at it. Without “chance occurrences,” “fortune,” “coincidence,” “turns of events,” “fate” and “favorable circumstances,” we will never truly fit the “happy” definition. The word “pursue” implies purposeful action directed toward a particular object. Yet when we “pursue happiness,” we attempt to secure something that eludes human intention altogether. We cannot really “pursue” something that will happen by chance. Our best and most intensive efforts will not cause something to occur at random. At the most, we can “hope” for such events; we do not “pursue” them. We can boldly struggle to mold our circumstances by effort and toil. But if chance stands against us, it seems that we will never find happiness. Ironically, however, a person may be happy even if he makes no effort at all. As long as “fortune” and “luck” meet on his side, he will experience the “joy and contentment” that arise from his “lucky circumstances.” On some level, we all know this. We have seen examples. This is why we contemptuously dismiss some “happy people” as “lucky bastards.” It just doesn’t seem fair that circumstances “bent together for them,” but not for us. After all, we think we did more, earned more and worked more than they did. Yet they became happy because they got lucky, while we slave away without fortune’s blessings. And we certainly do not experience “great contentment or joy,” because our circumstances are not “favorable.”
But fairness and happiness do not go hand in hand. To use a cliché, life is not fair, just as random events, chance occurrences and “fortune” do not reward us all equally. This perplexes us. We learn that hard work, determination and rational behavior will bring us success, then happiness. We think we have rational control over our feelings and our destinies. We think we should be rewarded for “making all the right moves” and “paying our dues.” Yet “circumstances favor” certain people over others without regard to their merit, effort, ability or zeal. It is no answer to say that some “really hard working people” generate their own circumstances. To some extent, life unfolds without regard to human choice or will. Certain people benefit from totally random occurrences. They meet the right people at the right times. They have the right idea in the right decade. Or they simply happen to please the right person, who happened to live at the right moment in history. Others are simply born with great advantages. No calculation can presage these “chance” occurrences. Yet “luck” bestows them on some, and not others. Blessed with luck, they relish the “feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that flows from their circumstances: They are “happy.” But they were “lucky” first.
Where does this leave us? In a word, it leaves us with the disheartening impression that we do not have total control over our lives. Benjamin Franklin and other enterprising Americans throughout our history disparaged luck, claiming that hard work and “good decisions” “manufactured” luck for them. They said: “Anyone can make it as long as they work hard.” But this, I fear, is propaganda. In my view, men like Benjamin Franklin benefited from luck and chance, no matter how hard they worked. Lord knows how many hard working people have lived on this planet who never benefited from “lucky chances.” They never became successful, famous or even happy. The lucky ones will always say: “This is how I did it… and you can do it, too!” That statement defies the very nature of luck. Luck only chooses some, not all. And it has nothing to do with talent or merit. Talent does not even increase the chances that “luck will strike.” Random means random. There is no way to influence it.
At this point, I cannot avoid discussing destiny as opposed to pure reason. I must confess that I believe in destiny, at least to the degree than I cannot rationally account for certain chance events in life. I cannot verify with my senses why I met certain people in life, why certain people lived, and others died. Quite simply, luck plays a huge role in life. And grammatically speaking, it is a prerequisite for happiness. Thus, it is a matter of chance and coincidence whether we become happy, since nothing can control the “random events” that will generate the circumstances necessary to experience the “strongly positive emotions” that flow from those lucky circumstances. Or perhaps it is destiny that determines who benefits from “chance events,” if they are even “chance events” at all. What do I know? If destiny chooses the people who benefit from chance events—and thus become happy—does that not sound like quasi-religion? There are chosen ones and there are the damned.
We all want happiness. We all want to feel good more than we feel bad. We listen to philosophers and heroes who offer us ways to find it. Yet we cannot escape grammar. Happiness turns largely on luck. Lucky people are happy. Unlucky people are not. Think about it. If some truly unlucky event befalls you, are you happy? Definitely not. Chance did not favor you. But if a lucky event befalls you, are you happy? Absolutely. You benefited from chance. It changed your circumstances and you feel great about it. Did you influence the chance events? Probably not. They would not be “chance events” if you did.
I suppose the only way to cope with luck is to cultivate a healthy respect for uncertainty in life. Maybe we will be happy. Perhaps we won’t. Yet we can spare ourselves heartbreak if we refrain from pursuing it. After all, we cannot pursue luck. And without luck, there is no true happiness. In America, this is a hard way to live. We learn that we can control our lives and we can buy anything. Yet no store sells luck or happiness. Luck can give us money, but money can’t give us luck. By the same token, money can’t give us happiness. You need luck for that.
I often write about happiness and unhappiness. In my view, human beings long to experience good, positive feelings as much as they can in life. Freud thought the same: “What do [men] demand of life and wish to achieve in it? They strive after happiness; they want to become happy and remain so.” Civilization and its Discontents, p. 25. Yet people say they want to be “happy” without really knowing what it means. All they know is that they want to feel good more than they feel bad—or at least more than they feel physical pain. Still, “feeling happy” is complex, especially in American life. Many people cannot feel happy unless they first achieve some “subsidiary aims,” such as making money, owning property or obtaining the “right life mate.” They exhaust themselves seeking these “subsidiary aims” to such an extent that they lose sight of the end goal: Happiness. Instead, they endless obsess over the “subsidiary aims.” In short, “a means” to happiness replaces the “end.”
Money is the best example. Money is a medium; it is a means to obtain other things, things that will ostensibly bring happiness. Yet many people forget this when they set out upon “the money-making life.” Even Aristotle recognized this 2500 years ago. Interestingly, both Freud and Aristotle agree that men seek happiness in life: “…[What] is it that we say…is the highest of all goods achievable by action? Verbally there is very general agreement; for both the general run of men and people of superior refinement say that it is happiness, and identify living well and doing well with being happy.” Ethics, Book I, Ch. 4. But Aristotle expressly ruled out “money-making” as a pathway to true happiness: “The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful and for the sake of something else.” Ethics, Book I, Ch. 5. In other words, Aristotle understood that money is a “subsidiary aim” that is “merely useful…for the sake of something else,” namely, “happiness.” Despite Aristotle’s warning, however, many Americans live their lives for money. They think it will categorically bring them happiness. In so doing, they are “barking up the wrong tree.” Perhaps that explains why so few Americans think they are happy. If “living for money” categorically cannot win happiness, then there is no way a true “money-maker” will ever find happiness.
If money does not bring happiness, what does? In truth, we can forgive many Americans for their error. After all, we are merely sensory creatures. We believe what we see and hear. Our senses tell us that money appears to make wealthy people happy. They appear to want for nothing. They do not worry about their rent or their bills. They drive beautiful cars, go on exotic vacations and do what they want every day. This stands in stark contrast to our own lives, in which money is a constant worry. When money is a worry, it dominates our outlook. It provides too many opportunities for suffering. In these circumstances, we cannot feel the “strongly positive emotions” that mark happiness. Freud said that the “presence of unpleasure” makes happiness impossible. Cf. Freud, Civilization and its Discontents, p. 34. To paraphrase Bobby McFerrin: When we worry, we cannot be happy. Nonetheless, we believe that if we only cast off the “money yoke,” our worries would disappear, leaving our minds free to finally experience “strongly positive emotions.” From our perspective, the rich have that freedom. That is why we think they must be happy. And that is why we think that money will automatically make us happy, too.
But this is a delusion. One must merely pick up a tabloid newspaper to see that even mega-rich superstars are not happy, either. They might not worry about bills and health care, but they find other sources for “unpleasure” in their lives: Cheating boyfriends, bitter divorces, cancer, lost contracts, sagging boobs, wrinkles, potbellies, baldness, betrayals, Oscar snubs, humiliations, criminal prosecutions for disorderly conduct, drunk driving or domestic abuse… the list goes on. Money did not cause pain here. These unhappy stars have plenty of money. Yet they clearly are not happy, either. They simply experience unpleasure from a different source than the rest.
Where are the happy people, then? If wealth does not bring happiness, what does? In America, commerce is King. This is not just left-wing rhetoric: We really think we can buy anything. Why can’t we buy happiness, too? It seems like a cruel joke. If we seek happiness but we can’t buy it, what is all this chatter about “becoming successful” and “working hard?” If neither success, nor hard work, nor money can categorically create happiness, what is the point? We work hard and attempt to become successful because we want the power to buy things. But if we can’t buy happiness, what do we have? Aristotle and Freud say that we all want happiness. At the same time, American life tells us we need to be successful. Yet the two are not consistent. Success and money do not automatically create happiness. They may provide a means to it, but they are not replacements for happiness. Happiness comes from somewhere else, somewhere within ourselves.
Or does it? Can we fool ourselves into happiness no matter our external circumstances? Can we manipulate our attitudes so that we always feel “strongly positive emotions?” To answer that question, we must examine language. While we colloquially understand that “happiness” means a prevalence of “strongly positive emotions” over “negative feelings, stress and pain,” does that mean that external circumstances play no role in the analysis? Or can we become happy by sheer force of will, despite all the ills that fate throws upon us? In other words, are happy people simply “lucky?” If they are, what does that say about all our frantic efforts to “become happy” in life? If happiness is basically just a crapshoot, why bother even trying to “find happiness” in the first place?
This is not a small concern. In English, there is a very close relationship between the concepts “happiness” and “luck.” “Happy” is an ancient English word. It derives from the root “hap,” which in turn stems from the Old English “haep” and Old Norse “happ,” meaning “convenient” or “suitable.” Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Ed. “Hap” means “chance, luck or lot,” or at least an “occurrence or happening.” “Hap” gives rise not only to “happy,” but also to “happen” and “happenstance.” All these words imply purely random, chance occurrences over which human will appears to have little influence. Looking more closely at “happy,” the dictionary tells us that the word means: “1. favored by circumstances; lucky; fortunate; 2. having, showing or causing a feeling of great pleasure, contentment, joy, etc., joyous, glad, pleased; 3. exactly appropriate to the occasion.” Id. A “happy person,” then, appears to have made little effort in life. Rather, he is merely “favored by circumstances” and “fortunate” to feel the way he does. He feels “great pleasure, contentment and joy” because circumstances favor him. But why do circumstances favor him? Because he is simply “lucky?” If he is “just lucky,” does that mean he played a role in his own happiness? Or did “fate” just randomly bless him? Here, we can already see the trouble brewing. To be “happy,” our “circumstances” must “favor us.” We must be “lucky” and “fortunate.” We must benefit from “chance occurrences” and “happenstance” to be “happy.” Our own efforts seem irrelevant to the task. Put simply, “happiness” requires “luckiness.”
So what does “lucky” mean? According to Webster, “lucky” means “having good luck; fortunate.” Webster’s New World Dictionary, 4th Ed. Again, we see “fortune” at work in these concepts. Fortune involves random chance, not purposeful action. And what about “good luck?” “Luck,” like “hap,” is an ancient English word. It derives from the Indo-European root “leuk,” meaning “what bends together” or “what occurs.” That root evolved into the Middle Dutch “luk” and the German “Glück.” In German, “Glück” translates not only to “luck,” but also to “happiness.” Bertelsmann’s Deutsches Wörterbuch tells us that “Glück” means: “1. favorable, fortunate circumstances or a turn of events; a coincidence; 2. the success that comes from that turn of events; 3. a feeling of inner satisfaction and joy, especially after accomplishing sought-after wishes; 4. favorable chance (my translations).” In English, Webster says that “luck” means: “1. the seemingly chance happening of events that affect someone; fortune; fate; 2. good fortune; success; prosperity; advantage.” Webster’s New World College Dictionary, 4th Ed.
In all these words, we see an undeniable link between “chance,” “luck” and “happiness.” In German, the link is intrinsic; “Glück” means both “luck” and “happiness.” It describes not only “chance events” and “favorable occurrences,” but also the “feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that springs from them. It is no coincidence that the English “luck” relates to “Glück.” Although the English definition for “luck” does not list “the feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that springs from chance events, the word “happy” directly implies “luckiness.” See “happy” definition, supra. And both words relate back to the Indo-European notion that “luck” merely means that things “bend together” for a person’s benefit. Put another way, luck is random. Human will does not affect it. It blesses its beneficiaries without regard to their efforts, intentions, wishes or merits.
In this etymological light, does it make any sense to “pursue happiness?” It appears not. After all, it seems that happiness depends on luck. Luck blesses at random; it does not favor those who “really want to be happy” or who “work really hard” at it. Without “chance occurrences,” “fortune,” “coincidence,” “turns of events,” “fate” and “favorable circumstances,” we will never truly fit the “happy” definition. The word “pursue” implies purposeful action directed toward a particular object. Yet when we “pursue happiness,” we attempt to secure something that eludes human intention altogether. We cannot really “pursue” something that will happen by chance. Our best and most intensive efforts will not cause something to occur at random. At the most, we can “hope” for such events; we do not “pursue” them. We can boldly struggle to mold our circumstances by effort and toil. But if chance stands against us, it seems that we will never find happiness. Ironically, however, a person may be happy even if he makes no effort at all. As long as “fortune” and “luck” meet on his side, he will experience the “joy and contentment” that arise from his “lucky circumstances.” On some level, we all know this. We have seen examples. This is why we contemptuously dismiss some “happy people” as “lucky bastards.” It just doesn’t seem fair that circumstances “bent together for them,” but not for us. After all, we think we did more, earned more and worked more than they did. Yet they became happy because they got lucky, while we slave away without fortune’s blessings. And we certainly do not experience “great contentment or joy,” because our circumstances are not “favorable.”
But fairness and happiness do not go hand in hand. To use a cliché, life is not fair, just as random events, chance occurrences and “fortune” do not reward us all equally. This perplexes us. We learn that hard work, determination and rational behavior will bring us success, then happiness. We think we have rational control over our feelings and our destinies. We think we should be rewarded for “making all the right moves” and “paying our dues.” Yet “circumstances favor” certain people over others without regard to their merit, effort, ability or zeal. It is no answer to say that some “really hard working people” generate their own circumstances. To some extent, life unfolds without regard to human choice or will. Certain people benefit from totally random occurrences. They meet the right people at the right times. They have the right idea in the right decade. Or they simply happen to please the right person, who happened to live at the right moment in history. Others are simply born with great advantages. No calculation can presage these “chance” occurrences. Yet “luck” bestows them on some, and not others. Blessed with luck, they relish the “feeling of inner satisfaction and joy” that flows from their circumstances: They are “happy.” But they were “lucky” first.
Where does this leave us? In a word, it leaves us with the disheartening impression that we do not have total control over our lives. Benjamin Franklin and other enterprising Americans throughout our history disparaged luck, claiming that hard work and “good decisions” “manufactured” luck for them. They said: “Anyone can make it as long as they work hard.” But this, I fear, is propaganda. In my view, men like Benjamin Franklin benefited from luck and chance, no matter how hard they worked. Lord knows how many hard working people have lived on this planet who never benefited from “lucky chances.” They never became successful, famous or even happy. The lucky ones will always say: “This is how I did it… and you can do it, too!” That statement defies the very nature of luck. Luck only chooses some, not all. And it has nothing to do with talent or merit. Talent does not even increase the chances that “luck will strike.” Random means random. There is no way to influence it.
At this point, I cannot avoid discussing destiny as opposed to pure reason. I must confess that I believe in destiny, at least to the degree than I cannot rationally account for certain chance events in life. I cannot verify with my senses why I met certain people in life, why certain people lived, and others died. Quite simply, luck plays a huge role in life. And grammatically speaking, it is a prerequisite for happiness. Thus, it is a matter of chance and coincidence whether we become happy, since nothing can control the “random events” that will generate the circumstances necessary to experience the “strongly positive emotions” that flow from those lucky circumstances. Or perhaps it is destiny that determines who benefits from “chance events,” if they are even “chance events” at all. What do I know? If destiny chooses the people who benefit from chance events—and thus become happy—does that not sound like quasi-religion? There are chosen ones and there are the damned.
We all want happiness. We all want to feel good more than we feel bad. We listen to philosophers and heroes who offer us ways to find it. Yet we cannot escape grammar. Happiness turns largely on luck. Lucky people are happy. Unlucky people are not. Think about it. If some truly unlucky event befalls you, are you happy? Definitely not. Chance did not favor you. But if a lucky event befalls you, are you happy? Absolutely. You benefited from chance. It changed your circumstances and you feel great about it. Did you influence the chance events? Probably not. They would not be “chance events” if you did.
I suppose the only way to cope with luck is to cultivate a healthy respect for uncertainty in life. Maybe we will be happy. Perhaps we won’t. Yet we can spare ourselves heartbreak if we refrain from pursuing it. After all, we cannot pursue luck. And without luck, there is no true happiness. In America, this is a hard way to live. We learn that we can control our lives and we can buy anything. Yet no store sells luck or happiness. Luck can give us money, but money can’t give us luck. By the same token, money can’t give us happiness. You need luck for that.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
IF YOU BELIEVE IN DESTINY, YOU CAN'T "MAKE IT HAPPEN"
AN ESSAY
For the last two years, I have grappled with the concepts “fate” and “destiny.” I always heard these words in movies and on television: “It’s your destiny;” “I was fated to do this;” “You can’t escape fate;” “You were destined for greatness.” I never really paid much attention to them. They did not make any sense to me because I believed that I had total control over my life. I made decisions and those decisions led me places. I did not grow up with religion. My father was an engineer and I learned that reason solved problems, not faith. In fact, my family rejected churches and I cultivated a strong distaste for religious institutions. By the time I was 13, I was already calling priests hypocrites and laughing at invitations to “let us pray.” In my world, study and sense yielded real results. Life seemed to be discernible. I felt like I had control.
But things changed as I got older. Through no choice of my own, I met people who took my life in different directions. I created plans and abandoned them, even after I thought my plans would never change. Calamities struck with no reasonable explanation. When I was 28, my father developed cancer and died virtually overnight. A few months later, I lost all desire to practice law after I saw what really motivated lawyers. The next year, my life partner suffered a devastating accident and almost died, leaving me to care for him for the rest of his life. During these trials, I began to wonder whether reason and study really could affect my life’s course. After all, I felt that I always made reasonable decisions in life, yet these calamities struck anyway. I began to reflect deeply on my assumptions about life. Maybe I had been wrong all along. No matter the ultimate answer, my thinking changed. I still trusted my reason in many circumstances. But I did not give it full authority anymore. Life had shown me that things happen for no apparent reason. And I began to approach life with a new openness about truth.
“Destiny” refers to a belief that all events in life have been preordained. For example, if you get up one morning and meet the person with whom you will spend your life, a believer in “destiny” would say that the meeting was “destined;” your choices or “luck” had nothing to do with it. In “destiny,” nothing is incidental. “Fate” refers to a similar belief that events have been planned in advance, leaving us to experience them as the plan unfolds. To a believer in reason, these concepts sound absurd. Reason implies that all truth flows from human sense and the inferences we can make based upon our senses. A reasonable person would reject destiny because there is no way to verify whether some “higher power” planned or ordained events. Reason requires verification. When something cannot be verified, it cannot be believed. To that extent, reason and destiny cannot coexist. Destiny posits that something beyond our senses controls the course of our lives and the world. Reason cannot perceive this “controlling power,” so reason rejects destiny as “superstition” or “irrationality.”
Yet if something cannot be perceived, does that mean it does not exist? This is the core weakness of reason. Reason works only to the extent we assume that all truth must be perceptible to the senses. But suppose there are powers that cannot be perceived. Reason has nothing to say about them. Destiny is an appealing idea because the senses can neither prove nor disprove it. A reasonable man can freely say: “Destiny does not exist because I cannot perceive it.” Still, the same reasonable man cannot counter an argument that destiny exists beyond human sense. If human sense is the only language reason can use to counter arguments, then it has nothing at all to say about phenomena that may exist beyond human sense. That is the reason why I cannot confidently say that destiny is nonsense. I cannot say for certain whether it does or does not exist. My senses do not provide the answer. For a man who once fully trusted reason to answer life’s quandaries, this was a very disturbing thought.
My confusion deepens when I consider my life’s course. Looking back over the years, events seem to have occurred with seamless precision, as in a crafted theatrical plot. I met a person with whom I’ve spent my life. I studied law. I had encounters and experiences that changed my perspective, even though I did not choose to have them. My father died suddenly and I had to reevaluate what life really meant. My values shifted. I began to think that perhaps I really was not in control after all. Perhaps something planned this course beyond my knowledge. What did I know? My senses could not tell me one way or the other. Yet life keeps moving forward with some vague design. I like to think that my choices have an influence on its course. But how do I know whether I was not “destined” to make certain choices? I may or may not believe that. No matter what I believe, I cannot disprove it.
Destiny both comforts and confounds. It comforts because it removes our responsibility for choices. After all, if everything is planned in advance, then nothing we choose will alter the result. Thus, if we accidentally kill someone while driving, nothing we could have done would have changed the outcome. How can we be responsible if it was our “destiny” to kill this person? In a less severe example, suppose we do not get a job we want. How can we blame ourselves for the result if destiny mandates that we do not achieve the goals we intend to achieve?
Destiny confounds because it undermines responsibility and choice. Our society relishes blame. We constantly search for “culprits,” “wrongdoers,” “negligence” and “fault.” Yet fault implies that someone made an improper choice. Because he had the opportunity to choose correctly, we can justifiably punish him when he chooses incorrectly. But if destiny applies, then the “culprit” really had no choice at all; he was “destined” to make the wrong choice. How can we punish someone who simply does what fate intended? How can responsibility exist if a person is destined to be irresponsible? Destiny confounds social order. Social order depends upon enforcing “proper choices” that accord with dominant values. Yet destiny teaches that choice is an illusion. If people have no real capacity to make choices, then it would be perverse to punish them for merely following their allotted course. How could we justify condemning a murderer for “choosing to kill a man” if he really had no choice to make? He was “destined to kill that man.” That was his “allotted course.” Can we punish him for fulfilling his allotted course? Obviously our society cannot countenance this idea, even if it is true. For administrative convenience, the law punishes people for “wrong choices,” even though it cannot verify whether destiny controls people’s choices.
Destiny and fate leave us tantalized. The longer we live, the more it seems that our life’s course follows some prearranged logic. The longer we live, we encounter more and more unexplainable experiences. Why did we have an accident? Why did we meet this person? Why was I standing on that corner that day? Why did my father die? Why did this have to happen NOW? We cannot grasp the reasons. We may vaguely think we have an idea, but our reason cannot supply the answer. And it is difficult to reconcile destiny with social values that tell us we “are in control of our lives” and that we “are responsible for our actions.”
Commercial life embraces the notion that we are in control. Managers’ rhetoric encourages employees to “get out there and make it happen.” Commerce implies purposeful action. It implies that human volition can make a difference in events. On the surface, that appears true. After all, “successful people” all seem to work hard and force their way through to victory. But what about destiny? Was it really their choices that created the result? Or did they make their choices according to a higher power that arranged the sequence? Did they “make it happen,” or were things going to happen in their favor no matter what? Perhaps there was someone with as much drive, intelligence and spirit as Alexander Graham Bell, but destiny chose Bell to invent the telephone, not the unknown man who ended up lonely, misunderstood and forgotten. How do we know? Did Bell’s choices make the difference? Or did destiny intend his choices to make the difference?
Put simply, anyone who believes in destiny must reject the invitation to “go out there and make it happen.” If events and results are preordained, then no frantic effort will alter the course. A successful man may well say: “I got to my position because I worked hard and made all my own choices.” Yet can he also say that he was not destined to make those choices? What placed him in the position to meet the right people and say the right things? What caused his parents to meet and raise him the way they did? Did he control those things, too? In a word, he cannot disprove whether destiny played a role in creating the circumstances that led to his success.
These are truly elusive ideas. True, it is pure speculation whether destiny exists. On the other hand, speculation is our only tool when dealing with imperceptible phenomena. Many people squarely reject destiny because it is a dangerous idea. If they started to believe in destiny, they would lose their vigor for life. They would lose “control,” and people do not like losing control. People cling to the notion that their choices matter because they think their choices define them. Without the power to choose, people cease to be subjects; they become the objects of destiny. Nonetheless, renouncing destiny is more stubbornness than a categorically correct choice. One can reject destiny but not disprove it. By refusing to believe in it, an individual merely manifests his subjective impression that it does not exist; but belief alone does not objectively prove or disprove destiny.
If we even partially embrace destiny, life suddenly seems more bearable. We no longer must blame ourselves when our hopes and dreams do not materialize, for destiny intended a different result. Destiny obviates regret, since it makes no sense to second-guess ourselves for choices we really had no volition to make. Destiny removes the sting from life’s choices because we genuinely have no control over the outcome. If life’s course will be the same no matter what decisions we make, how can we feel bad about our decisions? In short, destiny comforts as much as it confounds.
It is impossible to refute destiny. At the same time, it is extremely difficult to fully embrace it. I try to steer a middle course. I like to think that my choices influence the general course of my life, even if some imperceptible power places me in situations where those choices can make a difference. On the other hand, life’s apparently irrational twists belie the contention that our choices have absolute control over events. Our choices will not save us from life’s inexorable course. Fortune and misfortune follow their own, unknowable path. Experience reveals that we do not have absolute control. And we never will, no matter who tells us to “go make it happen.” I think it best to have faith in our decisions, respect others and try to make ourselves happy, all the while remembering that there are some things we will never know. We can steer that course by at least winking at destiny. In other words, we need not take our hands off the wheel to believe that our final destination may be completely beyond what we reasonably envisioned.
We can try our best to “go make it happen.” But if it doesn’t, we should not regret it.
For the last two years, I have grappled with the concepts “fate” and “destiny.” I always heard these words in movies and on television: “It’s your destiny;” “I was fated to do this;” “You can’t escape fate;” “You were destined for greatness.” I never really paid much attention to them. They did not make any sense to me because I believed that I had total control over my life. I made decisions and those decisions led me places. I did not grow up with religion. My father was an engineer and I learned that reason solved problems, not faith. In fact, my family rejected churches and I cultivated a strong distaste for religious institutions. By the time I was 13, I was already calling priests hypocrites and laughing at invitations to “let us pray.” In my world, study and sense yielded real results. Life seemed to be discernible. I felt like I had control.
But things changed as I got older. Through no choice of my own, I met people who took my life in different directions. I created plans and abandoned them, even after I thought my plans would never change. Calamities struck with no reasonable explanation. When I was 28, my father developed cancer and died virtually overnight. A few months later, I lost all desire to practice law after I saw what really motivated lawyers. The next year, my life partner suffered a devastating accident and almost died, leaving me to care for him for the rest of his life. During these trials, I began to wonder whether reason and study really could affect my life’s course. After all, I felt that I always made reasonable decisions in life, yet these calamities struck anyway. I began to reflect deeply on my assumptions about life. Maybe I had been wrong all along. No matter the ultimate answer, my thinking changed. I still trusted my reason in many circumstances. But I did not give it full authority anymore. Life had shown me that things happen for no apparent reason. And I began to approach life with a new openness about truth.
“Destiny” refers to a belief that all events in life have been preordained. For example, if you get up one morning and meet the person with whom you will spend your life, a believer in “destiny” would say that the meeting was “destined;” your choices or “luck” had nothing to do with it. In “destiny,” nothing is incidental. “Fate” refers to a similar belief that events have been planned in advance, leaving us to experience them as the plan unfolds. To a believer in reason, these concepts sound absurd. Reason implies that all truth flows from human sense and the inferences we can make based upon our senses. A reasonable person would reject destiny because there is no way to verify whether some “higher power” planned or ordained events. Reason requires verification. When something cannot be verified, it cannot be believed. To that extent, reason and destiny cannot coexist. Destiny posits that something beyond our senses controls the course of our lives and the world. Reason cannot perceive this “controlling power,” so reason rejects destiny as “superstition” or “irrationality.”
Yet if something cannot be perceived, does that mean it does not exist? This is the core weakness of reason. Reason works only to the extent we assume that all truth must be perceptible to the senses. But suppose there are powers that cannot be perceived. Reason has nothing to say about them. Destiny is an appealing idea because the senses can neither prove nor disprove it. A reasonable man can freely say: “Destiny does not exist because I cannot perceive it.” Still, the same reasonable man cannot counter an argument that destiny exists beyond human sense. If human sense is the only language reason can use to counter arguments, then it has nothing at all to say about phenomena that may exist beyond human sense. That is the reason why I cannot confidently say that destiny is nonsense. I cannot say for certain whether it does or does not exist. My senses do not provide the answer. For a man who once fully trusted reason to answer life’s quandaries, this was a very disturbing thought.
My confusion deepens when I consider my life’s course. Looking back over the years, events seem to have occurred with seamless precision, as in a crafted theatrical plot. I met a person with whom I’ve spent my life. I studied law. I had encounters and experiences that changed my perspective, even though I did not choose to have them. My father died suddenly and I had to reevaluate what life really meant. My values shifted. I began to think that perhaps I really was not in control after all. Perhaps something planned this course beyond my knowledge. What did I know? My senses could not tell me one way or the other. Yet life keeps moving forward with some vague design. I like to think that my choices have an influence on its course. But how do I know whether I was not “destined” to make certain choices? I may or may not believe that. No matter what I believe, I cannot disprove it.
Destiny both comforts and confounds. It comforts because it removes our responsibility for choices. After all, if everything is planned in advance, then nothing we choose will alter the result. Thus, if we accidentally kill someone while driving, nothing we could have done would have changed the outcome. How can we be responsible if it was our “destiny” to kill this person? In a less severe example, suppose we do not get a job we want. How can we blame ourselves for the result if destiny mandates that we do not achieve the goals we intend to achieve?
Destiny confounds because it undermines responsibility and choice. Our society relishes blame. We constantly search for “culprits,” “wrongdoers,” “negligence” and “fault.” Yet fault implies that someone made an improper choice. Because he had the opportunity to choose correctly, we can justifiably punish him when he chooses incorrectly. But if destiny applies, then the “culprit” really had no choice at all; he was “destined” to make the wrong choice. How can we punish someone who simply does what fate intended? How can responsibility exist if a person is destined to be irresponsible? Destiny confounds social order. Social order depends upon enforcing “proper choices” that accord with dominant values. Yet destiny teaches that choice is an illusion. If people have no real capacity to make choices, then it would be perverse to punish them for merely following their allotted course. How could we justify condemning a murderer for “choosing to kill a man” if he really had no choice to make? He was “destined to kill that man.” That was his “allotted course.” Can we punish him for fulfilling his allotted course? Obviously our society cannot countenance this idea, even if it is true. For administrative convenience, the law punishes people for “wrong choices,” even though it cannot verify whether destiny controls people’s choices.
Destiny and fate leave us tantalized. The longer we live, the more it seems that our life’s course follows some prearranged logic. The longer we live, we encounter more and more unexplainable experiences. Why did we have an accident? Why did we meet this person? Why was I standing on that corner that day? Why did my father die? Why did this have to happen NOW? We cannot grasp the reasons. We may vaguely think we have an idea, but our reason cannot supply the answer. And it is difficult to reconcile destiny with social values that tell us we “are in control of our lives” and that we “are responsible for our actions.”
Commercial life embraces the notion that we are in control. Managers’ rhetoric encourages employees to “get out there and make it happen.” Commerce implies purposeful action. It implies that human volition can make a difference in events. On the surface, that appears true. After all, “successful people” all seem to work hard and force their way through to victory. But what about destiny? Was it really their choices that created the result? Or did they make their choices according to a higher power that arranged the sequence? Did they “make it happen,” or were things going to happen in their favor no matter what? Perhaps there was someone with as much drive, intelligence and spirit as Alexander Graham Bell, but destiny chose Bell to invent the telephone, not the unknown man who ended up lonely, misunderstood and forgotten. How do we know? Did Bell’s choices make the difference? Or did destiny intend his choices to make the difference?
Put simply, anyone who believes in destiny must reject the invitation to “go out there and make it happen.” If events and results are preordained, then no frantic effort will alter the course. A successful man may well say: “I got to my position because I worked hard and made all my own choices.” Yet can he also say that he was not destined to make those choices? What placed him in the position to meet the right people and say the right things? What caused his parents to meet and raise him the way they did? Did he control those things, too? In a word, he cannot disprove whether destiny played a role in creating the circumstances that led to his success.
These are truly elusive ideas. True, it is pure speculation whether destiny exists. On the other hand, speculation is our only tool when dealing with imperceptible phenomena. Many people squarely reject destiny because it is a dangerous idea. If they started to believe in destiny, they would lose their vigor for life. They would lose “control,” and people do not like losing control. People cling to the notion that their choices matter because they think their choices define them. Without the power to choose, people cease to be subjects; they become the objects of destiny. Nonetheless, renouncing destiny is more stubbornness than a categorically correct choice. One can reject destiny but not disprove it. By refusing to believe in it, an individual merely manifests his subjective impression that it does not exist; but belief alone does not objectively prove or disprove destiny.
If we even partially embrace destiny, life suddenly seems more bearable. We no longer must blame ourselves when our hopes and dreams do not materialize, for destiny intended a different result. Destiny obviates regret, since it makes no sense to second-guess ourselves for choices we really had no volition to make. Destiny removes the sting from life’s choices because we genuinely have no control over the outcome. If life’s course will be the same no matter what decisions we make, how can we feel bad about our decisions? In short, destiny comforts as much as it confounds.
It is impossible to refute destiny. At the same time, it is extremely difficult to fully embrace it. I try to steer a middle course. I like to think that my choices influence the general course of my life, even if some imperceptible power places me in situations where those choices can make a difference. On the other hand, life’s apparently irrational twists belie the contention that our choices have absolute control over events. Our choices will not save us from life’s inexorable course. Fortune and misfortune follow their own, unknowable path. Experience reveals that we do not have absolute control. And we never will, no matter who tells us to “go make it happen.” I think it best to have faith in our decisions, respect others and try to make ourselves happy, all the while remembering that there are some things we will never know. We can steer that course by at least winking at destiny. In other words, we need not take our hands off the wheel to believe that our final destination may be completely beyond what we reasonably envisioned.
We can try our best to “go make it happen.” But if it doesn’t, we should not regret it.
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