Just a question - is it possible that something can make us happier while we're using/experiencing it, but not happier overall? For instance, if I were to buy a new Mac because it's great for photo editing (and I like photo editing... or really, digital art), I'm sure I would be very happy using it. But would it actually contribute to my overall happiness? The kind of happiness that you get asked about in a survey: "On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy do you think you are?" If it doesn't contribute to that kind of happiness, but the amount of time I spent at work to be able to afford the computer made me unhappy in a more permanent sense, then don't I experience a net loss on the deal?
Is this simply a spending money wisely issue put another way? Or am I right in feeling that there's more to it than that?
If there is, what kinds of things do make us 'permanently' happy? For me, I think that an ideal life (at least for a few years) would be working in a hostel in Europe, making just enough money to travel a little and drink wine and read books. Do the acts of drinking wine and reading books give me that permanent kind of happiness, or are they just, in the end, like the Mac? Or have I associated them with a type of lifestyle, one that I think will make me happy? What kind of lifestyle is associated with the Mac?
The next questions are maybe hugely ambitious, but I'll throw them out here and maybe come back to them again later:
What does a family of 4 with an income of $40,000 do to achieve happiness?
What does a family of 4 with an income of $400,000 do to achieve happiness?
Or, you could think of it in terms of single people if that's easier. Say $20,000 vs. $200k.
There are a quite a few people who have visited without commenting. Maybe I'm boring you to death, and that's fine. But if this is interesting to you at all, please, let us know what you're thinking!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Progress and the Pursuit
It's become cliché to talk about the increasingly fast-paced nature of contemporary society, especially American society. But since we won't understand the implications of the new globalization period we're in combined with the advent of instant global communications and ubiquitous interconnectivity, that fact shouldn't stop us from having a conversation about, well, the whole point of our society's existence. [Insert another cliché about how to eat an elephant here.]
In all seriousness though, I think this question - what is the ultimate goal of our civilization - is a dangerously neglected one. Sure, people wonder all the time about the "meaning of life," or, put another way, "Why am I here?" but these questions focus only on the individual's existence. Thus, these considerations are inherently limiting. Focusing solely on them prevents or distracts us from considering or questioning many of the things we take for granted.
One of those things is, I think, the idea of "progress." America as a whole seems obsessed with it. The old DuPont slogan, "Better living through chemistry" comes to mind. We are a society transfixed with new conveniences and new discoveries that somehow make our lives better. I should make the distinction that I'm not talking about political or social progressivism, specifically equal-rights issues, but mostly inventions and scientific breakthroughs that are designed to increase the quality of our lives. A new golf club that helps us drive the ball further; automatic windshield wipers - I don't know what we'd do without them; detergent with 33% more scrubbing action; "Books are too difficult to carry around - maybe they'll invent something that fits in my pocket and can digitally store every book I have..." But perhaps my point is best illustrated by showing an opposite example.
Last summer, a group of traveling Buddhist monks visited Dartmouth for a one week residency. One night, they gave a presentation in our big auditorium, demonstrating how they traditionally carry out debates in their temples. Compared to the Americans in the audience, a casual observer knowing little about Buddhist culture might have called the monks relatively primitive. Indeed, their dress and dwellings are much simpler than ours. Their scientific knowledge is not as advanced. Certainly, their per-capita income, even adjusted for purchasing power parity, does not come close to that of Americans. And yet I have to say that their society is infinitely more advanced than ours. Without professing to know much about Buddhism, it's more or less true that they, as a culture, have reached the goal of their collective existence. All they really have left to accomplish is to, as individuals, find enlightenment through meditation and debate. Our society, meanwhile, hires hundreds of college grads each year just to figure out new ways to turn money into more money, without actually producing anything and with the money itself existing only as an idea - a bit of code in some computer somewhere. Meanwhile, we continue to obsess about the newest products to hit the market.
When will progress take us to where we want to be? If this question is impossible to answer, it is because rather than treating progress as a means to an end, we treat it as an end itself. It seems that rather than figuring out ways to progress toward a societal goal, we only work on achieving progress itself.
By all accounts, our Declaration of Independence is a brilliant and powerful document. But when Jefferson adapted John Locke's "life, liberty, and estate [or possessions]" to "...life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," he helped cement an American mindset - that of the pursuit - that has grown steadily from our foundation to the pervasive monstrosity that it has become today. And in this pursuit of ours, for the things that we believe will help us achieve happiness, we seem to have forgotten what happiness actually is. Is it a coincidence that as America has become richer, our most commonly prescribed medications are for stress and depression-related illnesses? As the psychologist and social scientist Peter Whybrow says, "Americans are not as happy as they are rich." More on Whybrow later.
What I've written so far troubles me a little bit because its implications border on anti-intellectualism, and I am no anti-intellectual. And one can say that the Dark Ages were defined by a suffocating lack of progress, so am I arguing for a return to 11th Century Europe? These are some of the questions that, with your help, I hope to figure out. But it's worth considering - while a pocket machine that can hold all your books is empirically more useful, or, we might say, just better - than a library full of physical prints, does having it actually make us happier? And what are its costs?
But this argument is really just the beginning to many others. One of these focuses on the morality of science (indeed, the point of science, and another explores the reason that despite their growing wealth, Americans are becoming increasingly unhappy.
Your thoughts?
In all seriousness though, I think this question - what is the ultimate goal of our civilization - is a dangerously neglected one. Sure, people wonder all the time about the "meaning of life," or, put another way, "Why am I here?" but these questions focus only on the individual's existence. Thus, these considerations are inherently limiting. Focusing solely on them prevents or distracts us from considering or questioning many of the things we take for granted.
One of those things is, I think, the idea of "progress." America as a whole seems obsessed with it. The old DuPont slogan, "Better living through chemistry" comes to mind. We are a society transfixed with new conveniences and new discoveries that somehow make our lives better. I should make the distinction that I'm not talking about political or social progressivism, specifically equal-rights issues, but mostly inventions and scientific breakthroughs that are designed to increase the quality of our lives. A new golf club that helps us drive the ball further; automatic windshield wipers - I don't know what we'd do without them; detergent with 33% more scrubbing action; "Books are too difficult to carry around - maybe they'll invent something that fits in my pocket and can digitally store every book I have..." But perhaps my point is best illustrated by showing an opposite example.
Last summer, a group of traveling Buddhist monks visited Dartmouth for a one week residency. One night, they gave a presentation in our big auditorium, demonstrating how they traditionally carry out debates in their temples. Compared to the Americans in the audience, a casual observer knowing little about Buddhist culture might have called the monks relatively primitive. Indeed, their dress and dwellings are much simpler than ours. Their scientific knowledge is not as advanced. Certainly, their per-capita income, even adjusted for purchasing power parity, does not come close to that of Americans. And yet I have to say that their society is infinitely more advanced than ours. Without professing to know much about Buddhism, it's more or less true that they, as a culture, have reached the goal of their collective existence. All they really have left to accomplish is to, as individuals, find enlightenment through meditation and debate. Our society, meanwhile, hires hundreds of college grads each year just to figure out new ways to turn money into more money, without actually producing anything and with the money itself existing only as an idea - a bit of code in some computer somewhere. Meanwhile, we continue to obsess about the newest products to hit the market.
When will progress take us to where we want to be? If this question is impossible to answer, it is because rather than treating progress as a means to an end, we treat it as an end itself. It seems that rather than figuring out ways to progress toward a societal goal, we only work on achieving progress itself.
By all accounts, our Declaration of Independence is a brilliant and powerful document. But when Jefferson adapted John Locke's "life, liberty, and estate [or possessions]" to "...life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," he helped cement an American mindset - that of the pursuit - that has grown steadily from our foundation to the pervasive monstrosity that it has become today. And in this pursuit of ours, for the things that we believe will help us achieve happiness, we seem to have forgotten what happiness actually is. Is it a coincidence that as America has become richer, our most commonly prescribed medications are for stress and depression-related illnesses? As the psychologist and social scientist Peter Whybrow says, "Americans are not as happy as they are rich." More on Whybrow later.
What I've written so far troubles me a little bit because its implications border on anti-intellectualism, and I am no anti-intellectual. And one can say that the Dark Ages were defined by a suffocating lack of progress, so am I arguing for a return to 11th Century Europe? These are some of the questions that, with your help, I hope to figure out. But it's worth considering - while a pocket machine that can hold all your books is empirically more useful, or, we might say, just better - than a library full of physical prints, does having it actually make us happier? And what are its costs?
But this argument is really just the beginning to many others. One of these focuses on the morality of science (indeed, the point of science, and another explores the reason that despite their growing wealth, Americans are becoming increasingly unhappy.
Your thoughts?
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A new beginning
A couple of years ago, I started a blog as a device to provide some sort of consistency to my journal writing. I figured that if I were writing for an (admittedly small) audience, I would have a greater incentive to write regularly. The experiment had mixed results: 38 posts in the first 2 months led to only 29 more after as I gradually but steadily lost inspiration and willpower (and, thus, inevitably, the audience).
This blog is going to be mostly similar to the last, but without any of the "Dear Diary, this is what I did today" type posts. And there are a few main reasons I'm reentering the blogosphere. The first is I believe that the two most important things in our world - romance and art (indeed, perhaps they are the same) - are under assault. The others are a bit less easy to summarize in a sentence. One has to do with the prevailing perceptions of my generation (variously called Generation Y, the MySpace/i/Google/New silent/Connected Generation, and, my favorite, Generation whY). I reject that we're as lazy, ignorant, and selfish as we are often characterized. One study, for example, finds that people of my generation are consistently rejecting leadership roles. But where many see apathy, I see disillusionment. The fact of the matter is that we did not choose to inherit the world or, more specifically, country of which we are about to take control. I think that a lot of young people will, perhaps with some prodding, assert that they are extremely frustrated with the established system and power, but they see little avenue for actual change. But maybe not. Maybe we students need a real shot in the arm to actually realize what potential we have. And I admit that just talking about it, as in this blog, may not accomplish much.
This brings me to the actual theory, if I may call it that without seeming revoltingly arrogant, of this blog. It's simply a test - a forum for discussion. An internet agora. Because in my three years at Dartmouth, I've learned more in a couple of discussion groups I participate in than in all my classes and most of my other extracurriculars combined. Not in absolute terms, of course. After all, the social science major taught me a completely new way to think. But the most important things.
One of the best and most profound pieces of advice ever given me was by this guy Jeff, the owner of a café and bar I frequented in Toulouse last year. We got pretty close, and when I headed out the door on my last night in the city, he shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and said "Enjoy your life." This statement can be taken simply, or it can grow to an enormous complexity. I take the latter view. Just defining "enjoyment" is, I think, a colossal undertaking, and then we have to figure out how to actually achieve it. This task will be another theme of the blog.
If everything I've written so far seems kind of nebulous, it is simply because I don't actually have a real solid idea of what I want to do here. But, in the least, everything above should form some of the threads that are strung through the posts in the months to come. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading.
This blog is going to be mostly similar to the last, but without any of the "Dear Diary, this is what I did today" type posts. And there are a few main reasons I'm reentering the blogosphere. The first is I believe that the two most important things in our world - romance and art (indeed, perhaps they are the same) - are under assault. The others are a bit less easy to summarize in a sentence. One has to do with the prevailing perceptions of my generation (variously called Generation Y, the MySpace/i/Google/New silent/Connected Generation, and, my favorite, Generation whY). I reject that we're as lazy, ignorant, and selfish as we are often characterized. One study, for example, finds that people of my generation are consistently rejecting leadership roles. But where many see apathy, I see disillusionment. The fact of the matter is that we did not choose to inherit the world or, more specifically, country of which we are about to take control. I think that a lot of young people will, perhaps with some prodding, assert that they are extremely frustrated with the established system and power, but they see little avenue for actual change. But maybe not. Maybe we students need a real shot in the arm to actually realize what potential we have. And I admit that just talking about it, as in this blog, may not accomplish much.
This brings me to the actual theory, if I may call it that without seeming revoltingly arrogant, of this blog. It's simply a test - a forum for discussion. An internet agora. Because in my three years at Dartmouth, I've learned more in a couple of discussion groups I participate in than in all my classes and most of my other extracurriculars combined. Not in absolute terms, of course. After all, the social science major taught me a completely new way to think. But the most important things.
One of the best and most profound pieces of advice ever given me was by this guy Jeff, the owner of a café and bar I frequented in Toulouse last year. We got pretty close, and when I headed out the door on my last night in the city, he shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and said "Enjoy your life." This statement can be taken simply, or it can grow to an enormous complexity. I take the latter view. Just defining "enjoyment" is, I think, a colossal undertaking, and then we have to figure out how to actually achieve it. This task will be another theme of the blog.
If everything I've written so far seems kind of nebulous, it is simply because I don't actually have a real solid idea of what I want to do here. But, in the least, everything above should form some of the threads that are strung through the posts in the months to come. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading.
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