OESTERHOUDT STRIKES
Several days ago, I saw a curious poster alongside the usual commercial garbage on 22nd Street. Next to a print ad for Lady Gaga's new album and a placard about McDonald's meal deals stood this message: "The Legal Drinking Age is 21. Do Your Part This Christmas. Don't Give Alcohol to Teens." The poster showed a wine glass with a Ghostbusters-style red circle around it; a red diagonal line crossed out the glass. On the bottom appeared the following slogan in stern capital letters: "Serving Alcohol to Teens : It's Unsafe. It's Illegal. It's Irresponsible."
What made this "ad" so curious? Several things. First, it was not a commercial message. Most "ads" are crass commercial messages that aim to excite an urge to buy in the viewer. They communicate selective information intended to entice a person to spend money and enrich the speaker. In short, advertising is about making money. It is morally indifferent. In fact, it is morally destitute. Morality and commerce have little to do with one another. A dirty dollar is still a dollar. And people with more dollars are stronger than those with fewer dollars, dirty or not.
In traditional terms, then, this message against underage drinking was not an "ad" at all. It did not aim to excite an urge to buy in the passing viewer. No, it aimed to evoke a moral impulse; it beseeched people not to buy alcohol for people under 21. It asked people to refrain from commercial activity. If an advertising firm came up with a campaign that asked people to refrain from buying the product, it would go out of business faster than you can say: "Madison Avenue." In that sense, this message to stop underage drinking was not an "ad." It was an anti-ad.
But what good is an "ad" if it does not propose a commercial transaction? Can "ads" also promote morality? This one certainly tried. As long as an organization coughs up cash to buy posters or airtime, they can say basically whatever they want. It is their choice whether to say something that will generate no profit. Advertisers generally only advertise commercial stuff because it has the potential to create profits. And no one does anything in business that does not attempt to make money. Morality does not create profits. You can't buy it and it's not very exciting. Face it: It's easier to sell Dewar's than chastity.
In this light, we can conclude that some nonprofit organization paid for this message. It did not intend to make money with its speech. Rather, it aimed to foster public morality. Of course, the poster never uses the word "morality." In fact, everyone who supports underage drinking laws rarely speaks the word. Rather, they couch the issue in legal terms. The poster, for example, references the law twice: "The legal drinking age is 21;" "It's illegal to give alcohol to teens." It is easy to make a law; you just need a majority vote at the State house. But the underlying message here is moral, not legal. And it plays upon the popular confusion between law and morality.
People always mistake the law for morality. Morality existed among human beings before law. Morality refers to the average man's sense that something is disgusting or intuitively objectionable. It has more to do with popular social values than reason or abstract truth. Men created laws to embody their moral judgments, but law never could--and never will--supplant morality. In fact, the law is supposed to be morally neutral. It is supposed to operate according to pure reason and extrinsic evidence. Morality, by contrast, appeals to deep-seated intuitive prejudice against particular conduct within the dominant value system. When enough people in a society think something is disgusting, they call it "immoral." And that judgment passes down across generations. They don't need to verify it. They just need to feel it.
Still, people have more outward respect for the law than morality. It sounds more official. After all, the law has sovereign power behind it. It can attach bank accounts, imprison bodies and garnish wages. People fear those consequences. Morality, by contrast, is more basic than that. Morality informs almost everything a society does. Law simply represents the society's effort to assure a minimum baseline of behavior consistent with the dominant moral code.
Law enforces morality. The sovereign enforces the law with penalties on the body and property. But unlike morality, there are practical problems associated with enforcing the law. The sovereign cannot punish everyone for every illegal or immoral act that occurs. And there are some immoral acts that are not even illegal. The law must verify acts before it can punish them. That is not always easy.
Why, then, did the underage drinking poster harp on "illegality" in connection with serving alcohol to teens? After all, the overall message was a moral one. On a basic level, Americans have a troubled--and borderline schizophrenic--relationship with alcohol due to their cultural and religious heritage. The same cultural forces that culminated in Prohibition remain at work today in American society. Hostility toward alcohol is a moral judgment; it has to do with social values and disgust, not reason. Americans have always embodied their moral judgments about alcohol in law. The law gives official expression to their traditional moral queasiness on the subject. But to be abundantly clear, hostility toward alcohol--especially when coupled with children--is a uniquely American moral judgment.
Consider the interplay between law and morality in the poster. Even without understanding America's long history with regard to morally-nuanced alcohol regulations, the poster's own language reveals the connection. It says: " Serving Alcohol to Teens : It's Unsafe. It's Illegal. It's Irresponsible." It draws a linguistic connection between "illegality" and "irresponsibility." Strictly speaking, it is not "illegal" to be irresponsible. In American cultural parlance, however, "responsibility" is a sweeping moral judgment. It refers to "proper living" according to dominant social morals. That means acting and thinking in a certain way, especially when it comes to recognizing obligations and power relationships.
But "legality" is a technical inquiry. Unlike morality, the law must be specific in its prohibitions. Any aggrieved mother can complain that her child is "irresponsible" because he is not "living correctly." Yet that does not mean the child is acting "illegally." Legal violations must match specific language. They must be investigated and proved according to objective procedures. Yes, it might be irresponsible to violate the law. But not all "irresponsibility" is illegal. If it were, virtually everyone would be a criminal.
It is significant that the poster equated legality with responsibility. It forges a direct thematic connection between law and morality. In most cases, the average viewer has no idea that the two concepts are distinct. He simply assumes that all laws are moral, and that moral people are responsible. That assumption is false. Yet the law benefits from the false assumption because morality acts as a sort of "self-executing enforcement mechanism." After all, people stop themselves from acting in a particular fashion when they think it is "immoral." No law constrains them. Rather, innate cultural conditioning influences their decisions. If the law can harness that innate cultural conditioning, it can successfully thwart certain behavior before it happens. And from the law's perspective, whenever someone refrains from prohibited behavior, it has done its job. If morality helps enforcement, then the law will appeal to morality. It does not matter that the law has no power to shape individual morals.
At this point, however, a substantial problem arises: What is so immoral about serving alcohol to a 20-year-old? Or even a 14-year-old? This suggestion might arouse revulsion in the typical American listener. But that shows once again that underage drinking is essentially a moral issue. After all, Americans somehow feel queasy when they think that children are drinking alcohol. That reaction is a cultural. It has survived for generations.
And it is not a universal reaction. People in European Nations, for instance, do not flinch to serve alcohol to teenagers. There is no dominant public rhetoric that equates underage drinking with illegality, irresponsibility and "evil." Quite the contrary, life goes on in Germany, France, England and Holland quite well, even when 16-year-olds sip beer--even in public. Society does not collapse. The sky does not fall. And religious leaders do not spread hellfire for it.
In my mind, this illustrates the point that American concerns over underage drinking are essentially moral concerns. No matter how much public rhetoric couches the debate in legal terms, the fact remains that Americans just don't feel culturally comfortable with the idea that teenagers are drinking. It is a question of cultural heritage, not wise policy.
Of course, those who support widespread bans on underage drinking will never say that morality motivates them. In fact, they probably do not even realize that it does. Instead, they point to safety statistics and other supposedly "neutral" indicia to show a "practical" reason why teenagers should not drink. Because fewer teens die in alcohol-related accidents, they say, underage drinking bans are good laws.
I think this is a dishonest argument. If safety were really the main objection to alcohol, Prohibition should still be in effect. Alcohol causes untold damage to countless lives every year, not just among teenagers. It causes thousands of accidents. It ruins families. It leads to violence, disruption and turmoil. Why protect only children from those hazards? If a legislator identifies negative social consequences that flow from a particular behavior, he should ban that behavior in toto. Only a fool would argue that alcohol does not cause myriad social problems. Yet for some reason Americans tolerate those consequences among adults, but refuse to tolerate them among children.
At this juncture, it is hard to escape identifying some hypocrisy in the clamor over underage drinking. After all, the essential argument against underage drinking is to ensure safety. But if safety were the ultimate goal, then all alcohol should be banned, not just some. Yet despite Americans' moral qualms about underage drinking, they sure love to drink. So all their talk about safety goes out the window because they want to keep drinking. They can be "responsible" with their drinking, even though experience shows that alcohol continues to ruin lives on a daily basis. Yet they have the gall to label underage drinking "immoral." Immoral for some, but not for them? This is deeply problematic. And it renders all opposition to underage drinking disingenuous.
Let's be honest about alcohol. Everyone likes it. But there is a cultural tradition in America that teaches against it. That tradition forms a moral baseline that enables Americans to say with a straight face that underage drinking is bad, while "legal" drinking is good. All drinking creates pernicious social consequences. Yet legislators--and popular moralists--only ban it among children. In my view, this makes little sense. If you identify a social problem, you should root it out wherever it appears, not just in a subset.
But I ask too much. American morality is a complicated thing; there's no sense applying logic to sort it out. Let's just try to separate it from law. No matter how much we hear about "legal" drinking in America, the whole debate is really just a moral battle. And moral battles are never logical.
Showing posts with label Drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drinking. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
HAPPINESS, UNHAPPINESS, WORK, CAREERS AND DRINKING
AN ESSAY
When I practiced law, I learned the real meaning of the word “unhappiness.” I have garbled memories about my months in practice. Impressions flitter back to me without warning. No matter how they reappear, they put a bitter taste in my mouth. They confirm to me that I made the right decision to abandon the legal profession. They remind me just how awful I felt every day in a law office.
Before I practiced law, I never thought much about the concepts “happiness” and “unhappiness.” In my young mind, happiness was uncomplicated; it simply meant that you generally “felt good” in your circumstances and that “nothing was wrong.” Applying that definition, “unhappiness,” too, was easy to understand. It was just the “opposite of feeling good.” “Unhappiness” depended on “happiness.” If I knew one, I could abstractly imagine the other. I never considered that “unhappiness” could have an independent meaning.
It does. The mere fact that the word “unhappiness” contains the word “happiness” does not mean that “unhappiness” depends on “happiness.” To the contrary, “unhappiness” is a unique, pervasive, all-consuming feeling of malaise that darkens your entire outlook on life. It is not merely the absence of happiness; it is much more. It is a poisonous, enervating, hopeless mental condition. When you are unhappy, life appears bleak and pointless. Days pass slowly, even torturously. You just want to lie down and go to sleep. You expect bad news at every turn. When you are unhappy, you do not think to yourself: “I am not happy.” You think: “I am unhappy; and unhappiness has nothing to do with happiness.”
Practicing law made me unhappy. I could not bear to get up in the morning. I would lie in bed and pray that the minutes on the clock would not pass. From the moment I walked into the office, difficulties arose. My supervisor would yell at me for failing to make a phone call or fax something. She would reject my explanations with vague advice, such as: “You need to do better, remember more and move faster.” Of course, she never told me how to make people answer the phone or return calls. Nor could she tell me how to make the U.S. Mail move more quickly. Whenever I mustered the effort to fulfill her requests, she had a fresh rebuke for me. She called me names and told me she would dock my pay if I kept “fucking things up.” I tried to emphasize that no one had trained me. She told me to train myself by reading a 900-page “best practices manual.”
I felt disillusioned. I entered law practice after a very successful law school career. I thought my academic success would carry over into practice. It did not. Whenever I talked about legal theory, I was told to be quiet and do “case management” instead. That meant making phone calls and setting up appointments with doctors and engineers. Law had nothing to do with my practice. It was an elaborate horse-trading game that happened to revolve around a courthouse. All the while, intimidating people besieged me from all sides. My own supervisor told me I was incompetent. My adversaries called our lawsuits “baseless, stupid and worthy of sanction.” I even made judges angry because my supervisor instructed me to file idiotic motions in court. In short, I was castigated for following orders as often I was for failing to follow them. It was classic Catch-22 material.
My life degenerated into pure negativity. Nothing ever felt right. No matter what I did, I expected to be insulted, censured or criticized. I never received even one encouraging word from anyone. I remember losing interest in everything, even things I really liked. My libido vanished. Lawyers in my firm sympathized with me. But they, too, endured the same hardships I did; they had little time to worry about me.
And I could not escape. I stayed in the office for 11 hours or more for six days a week. I had no vacation time. I received cell phone calls before and after I left the office. The bad news and mean-spirited criticism never ended. Six months into my law practice experience, goodness seemed to have evaporated from my existence. It had become one grim, emasculating failure after another with no end in sight. My boss even reneged on a promise to increase my salary after six months, explaining: “You haven’t earned it yet.”
That’s when I learned what “unhappiness” really meant. I quit. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Since then, life has dealt me more tough cards. But at least I do not face ridicule, scorn and criticism every hour. I happier now than I was when I practiced law. In any event, I know I am not “unhappy” anymore.
Could anyone be happy in such circumstances? I remember something my supervisor said to me one Friday evening. It was about 6 PM. I was working on something that had to be done on Monday; there was still a long way to go. I knew I was going to be back in the office on Saturday, but I wanted to knock some work out before the weekend. Everyone else had gone home except my supervisor. She wanted to leave, too. So she came into my office and said: “Would you wrap it up? You’re cutting into my drinking time.”
I will never forget that. It made me seriously think about life, careers, happiness and success. Here was a successful law firm manager who divided life between “work time,” namely, Monday morning through Friday afternoon, and “drinking time,” namely, Friday afternoon through Sunday evening. When she said “I was cutting into her drinking time,” she implied that she drank at any moment she wasn’t working. For her, life was binary: Working and drinking. She must have liked drinking, because she did not like the fact that I was keeping her at work during her drinking time. If she had liked working, she would not have minded staying at work for a few more hours. But she was upset because I was encroaching on “her time,” and in “her time,” she liked drinking.
I am sure this is a common sentiment. But what does it really say about happiness and success in America? People are so proud of their jobs, especially people—like my supervisor—who achieve prominence and wealth. Yet despite this pride, they always yearn for days off so they can go get drunk. People say they love their work. But if they would prefer drinking to work, are they really being honest with themselves? Sigmund Freud wrote that intoxication is the “purest, most effective method” by which to ward off unhappiness. Civilization and its Discontents, S. 44 (Fischer Verlag, 10th Ed. 2007). Drinking “drowns cares.” If my supervisor loved drinking, she must have had “cares” she wanted to “drown.” This showed me that, beneath the collected exterior, she was somehow unhappy, too. She may not have been abjectly unhappy, but she must have been unhappy enough to want to drink as soon as she got home on Friday night. My unhappiness sprang both from my ill treatment and my disillusionment with a profession that cared nothing for the principles I struggled so long to master. My supervisor’s unhappiness came from some other source. I do not know what made her unhappy. She was powerful and had much more money than I did. She commanded people around the office and owned three apartments. Yet she was upset with me because I delayed her weekly rendezvous with the bottle.
Can we ever really find happiness in employment? It seems that every working person “lives for the weekend.” I know I do whenever I work a “traditional job.” I do not delude myself by saying “I love my job.” I do not like being a servant. I do not like sacrificing my time for a few dollars. Sure, in many cases it is necessary to sacrifice time for money. But that does not mean I like it. That is why I meticulously count the days toward Friday. During the week, a part of my mind always resents the idea that I am stuck doing someone else’s bidding for a shekel or two. Friday, however, represents a liberation from service. Working people divide their mental lives between weekdays and weekends. Weekdays are boring, stressful and unsatisfying. Weekends are exciting, free and fun-filled. The human brain does not like stress, obligation and constraint. Yet it loves freedom and fun. If it came between weekdays and weekends—and if money were not an issue—everyone would choose the weekend: Who would willingly face stress and obligation if there were no compensation for the pain? That is just the way our minds work. It is easier to be happy when you do not face stress, ridicule and failure. Even if you do not face extreme pressure at work, you still have to show up and sit in one place for over eight hours a day. Your brain would much rather be doing other things during that time, like drinking, sunbathing, shopping or surfing. That’s just the way we are, no matter how much guilt-ridden social programming we’ve absorbed to the contrary. We are trained to say “we love to work at traditional jobs.” But this is self-delusion.
Ironically, traditional jobs tend strongly to induce unhappiness. They consume time, leaving only limited opportunities for personal satisfactions. The fact that so many people—even wildly successful people—yearn to drink on Friday night is compelling evidence that people would “rather not be working” if they had the choice. More to the point, the persistent mental distinction between “workday drab” and “weekend fun” vibrantly illustrates that employment makes people unhappy. Workdays are “unhappy time” and weekends are “happy time.” It is childishly simple, yet accurate. “Weekend fun” makes us “happy.” “Weekday drab” runs us down, then thirst for “fun.” Without sufficient “fun” in our lives, we are not “happy.” We may not be truly “unhappy,” but we set ourselves up for unhappiness.
All this makes me wonder whether our entire social program even cares whether people achieve happiness. We learn to work at traditional jobs. We hear rhetoric about it all the time. It is “good” to have a stable job. It is “good” to know your place in the workplace hierarchy. It is “good” to spend your best years serving some company’s economic interests. And it is “good” to make money in the process. We hear that it is important to “be happy.” But how can we be happy if we spend 72% of our lives (ie, 5 days from every 7) wishing it were the weekend? Is it “good” to be happy only 28% of the time? Against this background, it almost seems revolutionary to want happiness 100% of the time. No offense to office workers, but if you say you are “100% happy” at your job copying papers, answering phones, staring at spreadsheets, delivering coffee and cataloging documents, I don’t believe you. I know that every Wednesday morning you secretly say to yourself: “Only two more days to go….only two more days to go.”
Happiness should not be a revolutionary sentiment. I made it my goal in life. I have experienced unhappiness. It is deeply unsettling. It makes you doubt life altogether. It makes you just want to give up. Still, avoiding unhappiness is more difficult than it seems. In our society, we learn to serve. We learn to spend our time to benefit others in order to win some monetary reward. Only a few have the freedom to spend their time as they please. But happiness lies in the power to say: “I will do what I want to do.” On weekends, working people say: “I will do what I want to do,” and they do what they want. On weekdays, they say: “I must” and they do not do what they want to do.
This is not a good recipe for happiness. Yet this is the program we’ve received from day one. When we sit in an office dreaming about the weekend, we understand just how little time we have to be happy in this world. Freud put it best when he said: “Our chances for happiness are already limited by our constitution as living organisms. But it is much less difficult to experience unhappiness.” Civilization and its Discontents, S. 43 (my translation) (Fischer Verlag, 10th ed. 2007).
When we divide our time between “work days” and “drinking days,” we obviously don’t like the work days as much as the drinking days. Yet we work much more often than we drink. Where does that leave us? Or do we drink because we work? If we do, what does that say about work? Should we defend it so proudly?
When I practiced law, I learned the real meaning of the word “unhappiness.” I have garbled memories about my months in practice. Impressions flitter back to me without warning. No matter how they reappear, they put a bitter taste in my mouth. They confirm to me that I made the right decision to abandon the legal profession. They remind me just how awful I felt every day in a law office.
Before I practiced law, I never thought much about the concepts “happiness” and “unhappiness.” In my young mind, happiness was uncomplicated; it simply meant that you generally “felt good” in your circumstances and that “nothing was wrong.” Applying that definition, “unhappiness,” too, was easy to understand. It was just the “opposite of feeling good.” “Unhappiness” depended on “happiness.” If I knew one, I could abstractly imagine the other. I never considered that “unhappiness” could have an independent meaning.
It does. The mere fact that the word “unhappiness” contains the word “happiness” does not mean that “unhappiness” depends on “happiness.” To the contrary, “unhappiness” is a unique, pervasive, all-consuming feeling of malaise that darkens your entire outlook on life. It is not merely the absence of happiness; it is much more. It is a poisonous, enervating, hopeless mental condition. When you are unhappy, life appears bleak and pointless. Days pass slowly, even torturously. You just want to lie down and go to sleep. You expect bad news at every turn. When you are unhappy, you do not think to yourself: “I am not happy.” You think: “I am unhappy; and unhappiness has nothing to do with happiness.”
Practicing law made me unhappy. I could not bear to get up in the morning. I would lie in bed and pray that the minutes on the clock would not pass. From the moment I walked into the office, difficulties arose. My supervisor would yell at me for failing to make a phone call or fax something. She would reject my explanations with vague advice, such as: “You need to do better, remember more and move faster.” Of course, she never told me how to make people answer the phone or return calls. Nor could she tell me how to make the U.S. Mail move more quickly. Whenever I mustered the effort to fulfill her requests, she had a fresh rebuke for me. She called me names and told me she would dock my pay if I kept “fucking things up.” I tried to emphasize that no one had trained me. She told me to train myself by reading a 900-page “best practices manual.”
I felt disillusioned. I entered law practice after a very successful law school career. I thought my academic success would carry over into practice. It did not. Whenever I talked about legal theory, I was told to be quiet and do “case management” instead. That meant making phone calls and setting up appointments with doctors and engineers. Law had nothing to do with my practice. It was an elaborate horse-trading game that happened to revolve around a courthouse. All the while, intimidating people besieged me from all sides. My own supervisor told me I was incompetent. My adversaries called our lawsuits “baseless, stupid and worthy of sanction.” I even made judges angry because my supervisor instructed me to file idiotic motions in court. In short, I was castigated for following orders as often I was for failing to follow them. It was classic Catch-22 material.
My life degenerated into pure negativity. Nothing ever felt right. No matter what I did, I expected to be insulted, censured or criticized. I never received even one encouraging word from anyone. I remember losing interest in everything, even things I really liked. My libido vanished. Lawyers in my firm sympathized with me. But they, too, endured the same hardships I did; they had little time to worry about me.
And I could not escape. I stayed in the office for 11 hours or more for six days a week. I had no vacation time. I received cell phone calls before and after I left the office. The bad news and mean-spirited criticism never ended. Six months into my law practice experience, goodness seemed to have evaporated from my existence. It had become one grim, emasculating failure after another with no end in sight. My boss even reneged on a promise to increase my salary after six months, explaining: “You haven’t earned it yet.”
That’s when I learned what “unhappiness” really meant. I quit. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Since then, life has dealt me more tough cards. But at least I do not face ridicule, scorn and criticism every hour. I happier now than I was when I practiced law. In any event, I know I am not “unhappy” anymore.
Could anyone be happy in such circumstances? I remember something my supervisor said to me one Friday evening. It was about 6 PM. I was working on something that had to be done on Monday; there was still a long way to go. I knew I was going to be back in the office on Saturday, but I wanted to knock some work out before the weekend. Everyone else had gone home except my supervisor. She wanted to leave, too. So she came into my office and said: “Would you wrap it up? You’re cutting into my drinking time.”
I will never forget that. It made me seriously think about life, careers, happiness and success. Here was a successful law firm manager who divided life between “work time,” namely, Monday morning through Friday afternoon, and “drinking time,” namely, Friday afternoon through Sunday evening. When she said “I was cutting into her drinking time,” she implied that she drank at any moment she wasn’t working. For her, life was binary: Working and drinking. She must have liked drinking, because she did not like the fact that I was keeping her at work during her drinking time. If she had liked working, she would not have minded staying at work for a few more hours. But she was upset because I was encroaching on “her time,” and in “her time,” she liked drinking.
I am sure this is a common sentiment. But what does it really say about happiness and success in America? People are so proud of their jobs, especially people—like my supervisor—who achieve prominence and wealth. Yet despite this pride, they always yearn for days off so they can go get drunk. People say they love their work. But if they would prefer drinking to work, are they really being honest with themselves? Sigmund Freud wrote that intoxication is the “purest, most effective method” by which to ward off unhappiness. Civilization and its Discontents, S. 44 (Fischer Verlag, 10th Ed. 2007). Drinking “drowns cares.” If my supervisor loved drinking, she must have had “cares” she wanted to “drown.” This showed me that, beneath the collected exterior, she was somehow unhappy, too. She may not have been abjectly unhappy, but she must have been unhappy enough to want to drink as soon as she got home on Friday night. My unhappiness sprang both from my ill treatment and my disillusionment with a profession that cared nothing for the principles I struggled so long to master. My supervisor’s unhappiness came from some other source. I do not know what made her unhappy. She was powerful and had much more money than I did. She commanded people around the office and owned three apartments. Yet she was upset with me because I delayed her weekly rendezvous with the bottle.
Can we ever really find happiness in employment? It seems that every working person “lives for the weekend.” I know I do whenever I work a “traditional job.” I do not delude myself by saying “I love my job.” I do not like being a servant. I do not like sacrificing my time for a few dollars. Sure, in many cases it is necessary to sacrifice time for money. But that does not mean I like it. That is why I meticulously count the days toward Friday. During the week, a part of my mind always resents the idea that I am stuck doing someone else’s bidding for a shekel or two. Friday, however, represents a liberation from service. Working people divide their mental lives between weekdays and weekends. Weekdays are boring, stressful and unsatisfying. Weekends are exciting, free and fun-filled. The human brain does not like stress, obligation and constraint. Yet it loves freedom and fun. If it came between weekdays and weekends—and if money were not an issue—everyone would choose the weekend: Who would willingly face stress and obligation if there were no compensation for the pain? That is just the way our minds work. It is easier to be happy when you do not face stress, ridicule and failure. Even if you do not face extreme pressure at work, you still have to show up and sit in one place for over eight hours a day. Your brain would much rather be doing other things during that time, like drinking, sunbathing, shopping or surfing. That’s just the way we are, no matter how much guilt-ridden social programming we’ve absorbed to the contrary. We are trained to say “we love to work at traditional jobs.” But this is self-delusion.
Ironically, traditional jobs tend strongly to induce unhappiness. They consume time, leaving only limited opportunities for personal satisfactions. The fact that so many people—even wildly successful people—yearn to drink on Friday night is compelling evidence that people would “rather not be working” if they had the choice. More to the point, the persistent mental distinction between “workday drab” and “weekend fun” vibrantly illustrates that employment makes people unhappy. Workdays are “unhappy time” and weekends are “happy time.” It is childishly simple, yet accurate. “Weekend fun” makes us “happy.” “Weekday drab” runs us down, then thirst for “fun.” Without sufficient “fun” in our lives, we are not “happy.” We may not be truly “unhappy,” but we set ourselves up for unhappiness.
All this makes me wonder whether our entire social program even cares whether people achieve happiness. We learn to work at traditional jobs. We hear rhetoric about it all the time. It is “good” to have a stable job. It is “good” to know your place in the workplace hierarchy. It is “good” to spend your best years serving some company’s economic interests. And it is “good” to make money in the process. We hear that it is important to “be happy.” But how can we be happy if we spend 72% of our lives (ie, 5 days from every 7) wishing it were the weekend? Is it “good” to be happy only 28% of the time? Against this background, it almost seems revolutionary to want happiness 100% of the time. No offense to office workers, but if you say you are “100% happy” at your job copying papers, answering phones, staring at spreadsheets, delivering coffee and cataloging documents, I don’t believe you. I know that every Wednesday morning you secretly say to yourself: “Only two more days to go….only two more days to go.”
Happiness should not be a revolutionary sentiment. I made it my goal in life. I have experienced unhappiness. It is deeply unsettling. It makes you doubt life altogether. It makes you just want to give up. Still, avoiding unhappiness is more difficult than it seems. In our society, we learn to serve. We learn to spend our time to benefit others in order to win some monetary reward. Only a few have the freedom to spend their time as they please. But happiness lies in the power to say: “I will do what I want to do.” On weekends, working people say: “I will do what I want to do,” and they do what they want. On weekdays, they say: “I must” and they do not do what they want to do.
This is not a good recipe for happiness. Yet this is the program we’ve received from day one. When we sit in an office dreaming about the weekend, we understand just how little time we have to be happy in this world. Freud put it best when he said: “Our chances for happiness are already limited by our constitution as living organisms. But it is much less difficult to experience unhappiness.” Civilization and its Discontents, S. 43 (my translation) (Fischer Verlag, 10th ed. 2007).
When we divide our time between “work days” and “drinking days,” we obviously don’t like the work days as much as the drinking days. Yet we work much more often than we drink. Where does that leave us? Or do we drink because we work? If we do, what does that say about work? Should we defend it so proudly?
Saturday, November 8, 2008
POLITICAL PARTIES FOR A CHANGING WORLD
Forthright Professionals’ Coalition for the Advancement of Ethics over Profit
By : Mr. Miguel de la Mancha, Chairperson and Ethics Adviser
In 2002, the Enron scandal demonstrated the sad state of ethics in American business. In virtually every profession and every industry, Americans consistently seek profits by any means necessary, even if that means lying, cheating, fabricating, exaggerating, concealing, intimidating or conspiring. Rather than face negative consequences, Americans in business first attempt to destroy incriminating evidence. Perhaps more troublingly, conscience is dying in American business. Indeed, if an American business owner knows he can maximize his profits by unethical behavior and knows he will not be caught, he will act unethically. Put another way, ethics has fallen by the wayside; if it is more profitable to be unethical, Americans will act unethically. Worse, American business professionals only act ethically when acting unethically would be less profitable. True ethics come from the heart. A person should adhere to ethics no matter what punishment is threatened if he does not. “Enforcing” ethics with rules, regulations and penalties will not make people ethical; it will simply coerce them to follow external laws to preserve their property and bodily comfort. We, the Forthright Professionals’ Coalition for the Advancement of Ethics over Profit, intend to return ethics to its rightful place in the American conscience. Our Nation achieved greatness not just because our ancestors were industrious; our Nation achieved greatness because our ancestors truly believed in ethics. They did not tell the truth because they feared a fine if they lied; they told the truth because their hearts told them it was the right thing to do. They did not steal their clients’ money because they feared prosecution and license revocation proceedings; they did not steal their clients’ money because a good man does not steal under any circumstances. Admittedly, I am the only member of the Forthright Professionals’ Coalition for the Advancement of Ethics over Profit. But I am confident that more Americans will understand that without ethics, profit means nothing. Still, after more than 3 years, I am still the party’s only member. It is my earnest hope that more Americans will put their trust in ethics for ethics’ sake, not merely to save themselves from punishment or to maximize profits. As yet, I am the only one who believes this. Be brave. Vote ethics, even it leads to your poverty.
Naughty Heiresses’ League for Subsidized Nightlife Without Consequence
By : Ms. Milana A. Falcon, Age 21, Daughter of Mr. Roderick F. Falcon, Falcon Mfg. Co., Inc., Party Spokesbabe
Everyone knows us. We are the fit girls at the club with all the money and the hot cars. We are the ones everyone wants. We wear the high heels. We get the looks. We party all night and never have to go to work. We drink, carouse, have fun, dance on tables, hobnob with star basketball players and shake everything we’ve got until the cows come home. That’s right: We are the Naughty Heiresses. Life has been good to us. We were born rich, white, petite, fit and cute. And our dads gave us everything we wanted from day one. We didn’t need to do well in school; we just had to show up once in a while. We don’t need to work; we have massive trust accounts that funnel us unlimited shopping cash every week. And when dad dies, we get the whole estate. We are even immune from criminal prosecution; hey, who wants to send a hot babe to jail? Admit it: You love us. You read about us in the tabloid papers and you wish you could have as much fun as we do. But there you are: Stuck at a bum job wearing cheap shoes and a button-down shirt that needs dry cleaning. You read about what we do while you take a 12-minute break eating a ham sandwich at some small-time bank. That’s right: We go out on weeknights. We dance on Tuesdays and drink on Wednesdays. We can sleep in every single day and still have millions in our checking accounts. You, on the other hand, can barely drag yourself out of bed every morning to head off to your loser job for a few bucks an hour. And every morning you never know if you’ll have enough cash to pay your rent or the medical bills. Well, sorry! Bad luck for you, I guess. But we will keep dancing, drinking, making scenes and beating the rap, no matter what you’re going through. We know you love it. That is why we, the Naughty Heiresses’ League for Subsidized Nightlife Without Consequence, demand that you continue to support our lifestyle. You need us. You want to hear about what we do, and that takes mucho moolah, my friend. There is a reason you are who you are, and there is a reason we are who we are. You live in uncertainty and fear; we live in luxury and we have fun every minute of every day. That’s the way it is, and you’d better keep it that way. This year, cast your ballot to keep us dancing. You want to enjoy reading about us during your sandwich breaks, don’t you? Well then keep our subsidies coming. Vote Naughty Heiresses. Because hot rich girls just wanna have fun. And you know you love it.
By : Mr. Miguel de la Mancha, Chairperson and Ethics Adviser
In 2002, the Enron scandal demonstrated the sad state of ethics in American business. In virtually every profession and every industry, Americans consistently seek profits by any means necessary, even if that means lying, cheating, fabricating, exaggerating, concealing, intimidating or conspiring. Rather than face negative consequences, Americans in business first attempt to destroy incriminating evidence. Perhaps more troublingly, conscience is dying in American business. Indeed, if an American business owner knows he can maximize his profits by unethical behavior and knows he will not be caught, he will act unethically. Put another way, ethics has fallen by the wayside; if it is more profitable to be unethical, Americans will act unethically. Worse, American business professionals only act ethically when acting unethically would be less profitable. True ethics come from the heart. A person should adhere to ethics no matter what punishment is threatened if he does not. “Enforcing” ethics with rules, regulations and penalties will not make people ethical; it will simply coerce them to follow external laws to preserve their property and bodily comfort. We, the Forthright Professionals’ Coalition for the Advancement of Ethics over Profit, intend to return ethics to its rightful place in the American conscience. Our Nation achieved greatness not just because our ancestors were industrious; our Nation achieved greatness because our ancestors truly believed in ethics. They did not tell the truth because they feared a fine if they lied; they told the truth because their hearts told them it was the right thing to do. They did not steal their clients’ money because they feared prosecution and license revocation proceedings; they did not steal their clients’ money because a good man does not steal under any circumstances. Admittedly, I am the only member of the Forthright Professionals’ Coalition for the Advancement of Ethics over Profit. But I am confident that more Americans will understand that without ethics, profit means nothing. Still, after more than 3 years, I am still the party’s only member. It is my earnest hope that more Americans will put their trust in ethics for ethics’ sake, not merely to save themselves from punishment or to maximize profits. As yet, I am the only one who believes this. Be brave. Vote ethics, even it leads to your poverty.
Naughty Heiresses’ League for Subsidized Nightlife Without Consequence
By : Ms. Milana A. Falcon, Age 21, Daughter of Mr. Roderick F. Falcon, Falcon Mfg. Co., Inc., Party Spokesbabe
Everyone knows us. We are the fit girls at the club with all the money and the hot cars. We are the ones everyone wants. We wear the high heels. We get the looks. We party all night and never have to go to work. We drink, carouse, have fun, dance on tables, hobnob with star basketball players and shake everything we’ve got until the cows come home. That’s right: We are the Naughty Heiresses. Life has been good to us. We were born rich, white, petite, fit and cute. And our dads gave us everything we wanted from day one. We didn’t need to do well in school; we just had to show up once in a while. We don’t need to work; we have massive trust accounts that funnel us unlimited shopping cash every week. And when dad dies, we get the whole estate. We are even immune from criminal prosecution; hey, who wants to send a hot babe to jail? Admit it: You love us. You read about us in the tabloid papers and you wish you could have as much fun as we do. But there you are: Stuck at a bum job wearing cheap shoes and a button-down shirt that needs dry cleaning. You read about what we do while you take a 12-minute break eating a ham sandwich at some small-time bank. That’s right: We go out on weeknights. We dance on Tuesdays and drink on Wednesdays. We can sleep in every single day and still have millions in our checking accounts. You, on the other hand, can barely drag yourself out of bed every morning to head off to your loser job for a few bucks an hour. And every morning you never know if you’ll have enough cash to pay your rent or the medical bills. Well, sorry! Bad luck for you, I guess. But we will keep dancing, drinking, making scenes and beating the rap, no matter what you’re going through. We know you love it. That is why we, the Naughty Heiresses’ League for Subsidized Nightlife Without Consequence, demand that you continue to support our lifestyle. You need us. You want to hear about what we do, and that takes mucho moolah, my friend. There is a reason you are who you are, and there is a reason we are who we are. You live in uncertainty and fear; we live in luxury and we have fun every minute of every day. That’s the way it is, and you’d better keep it that way. This year, cast your ballot to keep us dancing. You want to enjoy reading about us during your sandwich breaks, don’t you? Well then keep our subsidies coming. Vote Naughty Heiresses. Because hot rich girls just wanna have fun. And you know you love it.
Friday, September 12, 2008
A LAWYER'S CONFESSION
Recently, State Bar authorities received information that a well-respected commercial litigator was consuming up to four beers per night on weekdays. At Reason, Commerce, Justice & Free Beer, we take charges against legal professionals very seriously. In the interest of justice, we publish the accused lawyer's explanatory letter:
"I am not a drunkard. I consume alcohol on a semi-weekly, recreational basis only, pursuant always to responsible protocols and in good taste. Additionally, my alcohol consumption is always subject to applicable rules, laws and regulations (cf. Federal Register, current as of 09/12/2008), including but in no way limited to any and all exceptions and/or qualifications related thereto and promulgated thereunder. Weekend alcohol consumption, by contrast, poses a discrete inquiry not at issue here."
Respectfully submitted,
Mr. Ambler H. Ross, Esq., Order of the Coif
Equity Partner & Senior Billing Coordinator
Chatwell, Grabbin & Cashe LLC
1166 Avenue of the Americas, Suite 5780
New York, NY 10019
"I am not a drunkard. I consume alcohol on a semi-weekly, recreational basis only, pursuant always to responsible protocols and in good taste. Additionally, my alcohol consumption is always subject to applicable rules, laws and regulations (cf. Federal Register, current as of 09/12/2008), including but in no way limited to any and all exceptions and/or qualifications related thereto and promulgated thereunder. Weekend alcohol consumption, by contrast, poses a discrete inquiry not at issue here."
Respectfully submitted,
Mr. Ambler H. Ross, Esq., Order of the Coif
Equity Partner & Senior Billing Coordinator
Chatwell, Grabbin & Cashe LLC
1166 Avenue of the Americas, Suite 5780
New York, NY 10019
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)