We live in a time subjugated by Hallmarkesque pseudo- or
pop-philosophy, and wir Philosophen, “we
philosophers,” should definitely be engaged in the quest of examining,
eternally and recurrently, the various aspects of this our present maudlin Zeitgeist.
The Days of our Lives are sugarcoated fancies; and through our rose-tinted sentimentalist
glasses we perceive a world-of-men thoroughly saturated with saccharine notions
of joy & happiness, love & marriage, “raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…”
Then, when we
finally stride across the threshold of perception to enter into the torrential onslaught of Our
Life, we seem startled to find ourselves roaming around the quagmires of a Wasteland;
and, slowly, we realize that we are also troubled by a disturbing ditty that has
begun haunting our footsteps, and which sounds strangely familiar, like
something Bilbo Baggins might have softly hummed upon leaving the Shire:
Down from the door where
it began.
Now far ahead the Road
has gone,
And I must follow, if I
can,
Pursuing it with eager
feet,
Until it joins some
larger way
Where many paths and
errands meet.
And whither then? I
cannot say.
Life is perhaps like a box of chocolates, as Mrs. Gump one
day informed her young son, Forrest,
who never knew what he was going to get; but it is infinitely more like an exchange
with a Cheshire Cat. One day Alice finds
herself wandering around an Adventure in Wonderland, where everyone seems a bit
daft… but then, maybe by way of wanting to comfort her, the CC explains that everyone is mad, to which Alice
responds:
But
I don't want to go among mad people"(...)
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
The conversation goes downhill from
there, of course, when, as Alice politely asks for directions: "Would you
tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" the Cat laconically
responds:
"That
depends a good deal on where you want to get to" (…).
"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.
"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.
"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
Which brings us right the way ‘round to our meander in the
Wastelands of the world-of-men, and to our question about whether Happiness is really
the syrupy kind of subjective past-time suggested by the countless voices of
our Zeitgeist.
Is Happiness a value or a virtue? Is it a goal to be pursued?
Is it even desirable to be happy? Opinions abound.
But just to
problematize the question un tantinet reductively, let us
consider whether Hitler, Time Magazine’s 1939 Man of the Year, was a happy camper as he was planning and
then setting into motion the new Reich’s takeover of the knowable universe.
Just the idea of a Happy Hitler is generally enough to induce a pukefest in
the normal John Q. Citizen. Yet the answer to our question is undoubtedly “yes,” upon appropriate study and reflection, even though most of us prefer to believe that
Hitler was one sick f&%#
and that he definitely could not have been happy. So, just intuitively and just
maybe, it might perhaps begin to dawn on us that Happiness, which at first
blush might be thought to be a value in and of itself, probably is not; and that
we should take the time to rethink its position on our virtue/value list!
The point
to our little excursion into another’s crazed imagination is to suggest that,
despite its quasi-unassailable status as an Iconic Idea in the popular view,
Happiness per se has no universal definition or value upon which we all might
agree. It is both obvious and inescapable that one man’s happiness can easily be
another man’s misery. Indeed, this is precisely the philosophical rub.
The text that serves as the primary springboard for our
reflection is from the second section of the Declaration of Independence
(adopted July 4, 1776), in which Jefferson posits the following: “We hold these
truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are
endowed by their creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are
Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Is it
possible for us Moderns to reconstruct with any precision what the early
American philosophe was thinking when he
penned the Declarative and Independently minded expression: the pursuit of
Happiness? Well, in addition to the infinite number and variety of pop-philosophical
cultural opinions on the question of Happiness, there are also at least three reasoned
schools of scholarly opinion on the question of what ideas were informing our 3rd
President as he penned these famous and, for us Moderns, famously woolly words.
As always, though, scholarly debate is worth just about what you would pay to
go hear it, and there is a voice for every viewpoint—the good, the bad, and the
lame.
One good opinion, which I happen to favor personally,
concerns Jefferson (1743-1826) the philosopher of Epicurean or Stoic thought.
Stoicism teaches that personal happiness is integrally allied to self-control
or self-governance (cf. Jefferson, vol. XV, 219ff. of the 1903 Library Edition).
Jefferson writes in especially enthusiastic terms of Stoic Thinking as it was
handed down in the writings of Epictetus, and even considered doing a new
translation, “for [Epictetus] has never been tolerably translated into
English.” On Epicurus and Stoic moral thinking Jefferson shares
the following formula (XV, 223ff): Happiness =
the aim of life; Virtue = the
foundation of happiness; Utility =
the test of virtue. Pleasure = active
and Indolent; and Indolence = the
absence of pain. By Indolence, it is
clear from the context that Jefferson is referring both to the idea of body
indolence, from the Latin indolentia,
which is to be free from bodily pain, as well as to the Stoic notion of ataraxia, or the tranquility of mind
that characterizes someone who is free from worry and distress.
The
influence of Stoic philosophy was widespread among early American philosophes, and clearly also informed
the roughly contemporary American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), which
is evident in his famous essay, Self Reliance. This
well-documented and pervasive Stoic connection, of course, would seem strongly
to suggest that Jefferson’s “pursuit of Happiness” should best be construed as a
personal philosophical attitude of Independence of Mind toward the world-of-men.
However, there is also a second scholarly school of thought
on this question—that it is rather the English Enlightenment philosopher and
empiricist, John Locke (1632-1704), who informs both Emerson’s as well as
Jefferson’s thinking, and that Jefferson’s “pursuit of Happiness” is best
understood in terms of Enlightenment empiricism imported from England. This is
a plausible consideration, and is indeed representative of the mainstream scholarly
opinion—that the Jeffersonian “pursuit of Happiness” derives from Locke’s
political philosophy and is best interpreted in that light.
To be sure,
this is certainly an opinion, although arguably bad. In each of Jefferson’s references to
Locke (cf. Jefferson, vols. VIII, 31; XI, 222; XV, 266; and XVI, 19) he speaks,
almost nonchalantly, about Locke the materialist; and while he makes specific references
to Locke’s writings, categorizing Locke as the man to read… Jefferson’s enthusiasm
on the subject is certainly, well, stoically restrained. This stands in stark contrast
to the glowing and vigorous recommendation he gives to the Stoic philosophers,
praising both specific thinkers as well as the moral tradition.
What I do find
persuasive in the argument for a Lockean influence on Jefferson’s “pursuit
of Happiness” is, first, that Jefferson clearly says that Locke is the go-to philosopher
for wonderful ideas on materialism, which interests Jefferson as an alternative
philosophical framing to the normative Christian worldview. I find even more
persuasive, however, the argument from language-music.
Locke defines
property as a person's "life, liberty, and estate."
That is a catchy bit of writing from Mr. Locke, rhythmically speaking; and Jefferson’s writing is in
no wise inferior when he writes concerning certain unalienable Rights, among which "are Life,
Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Yet it also seems almost gratuitous to
point out that, although it is obvious that Jefferson liked and borrowed the
rhythm of Locke’s phrasing, he nevertheless
disagreed with the idea of the
phrase, thus changing Locke’s English, “and estate,” to the American, “pursuit of Happiness.”
There is at least one other mainstream scholarly opinion on
the question of how to interpret Jefferson’s “pursuit of Happiness,” which is
advanced by the historian Garry Wills; but this opinion seems to limp a little too much through the arcane and recherché to be persuasive in the context of this reflection.
Wind-up. Additional
philosophical support for the interpretation that the “pursuit of Happiness” is
best understood as a personal philosophical attitude of Independence of Mind, might
also come from Aristotle’s notion of eudaimonia—what Heraclitus might have translated as the
well-demoned or well-daimoned life. Let it be said, however, that while there are certainly
traces of Aristotle in Jefferson’s writings, relevant to politics, republics,
and materialism, there is no indication that he was in any way inspired by the
Stagirite’s Virtue Ethic.
For the
General Record, though, and because we are reflecting on the question of
Happiness as an Idea, it was Aristotle’s contention that we should actually thrive
in our lives, and that this eudaimoniac-thriving,
which is linguistically reminiscent of the Socratic Daimon who gave moral
direction to that philosopher, and which we Moderns generally translate as
happiness, is in fact the ultimate
purpose of human existence.
So there are many reasons, even beyond Jefferson’s
Declarative Announcement in its favor, for why Happiness or Thriving or
Independence of Mind should come to occupy a prominent place in our hearts and
thoughts as a Philosophical Value. Nevertheless, once the foundations of right
thinking (read: Philosophy) give way to populist fancies, definitions for ideas
such as Happiness become much fuzzier, and we Moderns are left with questions,
such as: What does happiness mean to you?, which do not necessarily lead us to meaningful
answers, because they also lead us to the admission that Hitler was undoubtedly as happy as a clam. Any answer to this type of fuzzy question is, philosophically speaking,
a castle built on sand.
Is there more to life than being happy? There are indeed some
scientists out there “who are cautioning against the pursuit of mere happiness”; and others
who suggest in the same vein that trying too hard to be happy in fact makes us
unhappy. I would argue, however, that such an understanding, and therefore
research grounded in that understanding, is fatally flawed by Science’s
fundamental mis-understanding about
the essentially philosophical nature of the question. But then again, just like
all the rest of us, scientists are also subject to “zeitgeistic” opinions and
attitudes about happiness, and to the sweepingly sugarcoated, saccharine-fueled
sentimentalism that continually seeks to supersede the hard work of Informed Thinking.
To answer
this question in kind: For us Moderns, who have been nurtured directly or
indirectly on the Jeffersonian notion of We the People, is it possible for
us to conceive as meaningful, philosophically speaking, an individual life where Thriving, either
in body or in mind, is dislocated from the individual life? Or is it possible,
philosophically speaking, to conceive of as meaningful a personal life where the individual
is called to yield up his Independence of Mind, or where his I of M is trained out of him through tutelage
in an impoverished educational system? Would this not be tantamount to the
Abolition of the Cogito,
the disintegration of the Individual, which must inevitably leave us, both as
individuals and as a people, vulnerable to every possible form of totalitarian
regimen?
In and
through his writings Jefferson crafted a philosophical Model of the Reasoning
Man, into whose hands he put the reins of Power. And the only real burden he
placed on this Reasoning Man is that he should be educated, in the sense that
he should be informed about Things of State. Because there is nothing more appalling to Reason than to
put power over the lives of We the People into the hands of those who choose a
path of willful ignorance and self-service.
Is there more to life than being happy? No, there can be nothing greater in life than to affirm the Individual as Thinking, Self-governing Thing moving toward Virtue. Following in a long line of earlier and like-minded Stoic philosophers, Jefferson invites us to welcome and embrace Happiness as a Virtuous Habit of the well-demoned Mind, so that we might be faithful in working to secure for ourselves, and then perhaps for the world, those certain unalienable Rights, among which are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of this Happiness.