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How Can
I Make a Good Life for Myself?
by Mortimer J. Adler, Ph.D.
( 1 )
There is an entry in the Note Books
of Samuel Butler that reads as follows:
IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?
That is a question for an embryo, not a
man!
One might be tempted to say something similar of
the question, How can I make a good life for
myself? It is a question for children, not for
adults.
Such a witticism -- if it is a witticism --
would spring from the consideration that the older
one gets, the less of one's life is left open to
the choices that are operative in making it either
good or bad. However, while it is true that the
younger you are, the more time you have before you
in which to engage in the effort to make a good
life for yourself, it certainly is not true that
the question with which we are concerned is only
for the young. There are several reasons for
this.
In the first place, it is certainly not a
question for the very young -- those whom the law
classifies as infants, and describes in
old-fashioned terms as not yet having reached the
age of reason or of consent, and not yet knowing
the difference between right and wrong. In the
second place, such terms as "young" and "old" can
be quite misleading if one carelessly identifies
mental, moral, or experiential age with
chronological age. We all know men of advanced
years who are still immature or even childish in
character; we also know other men whose maturity
greatly exceeds their years. In the third place,
the distinction between the mature and the immature
can be misleading and irrelevant, if it connotes a
difference between persons whose minds are fully
developed and whose characters are fully formed,
and persons whose minds and characters are still in
the process of development and formation.
If the term "mature" is used in that last sense,
it is highly doubtful whether there are any mature
human beings. I hope there are not, and I certainly
hope there are few if any among my readers, for
nothing I have to say can be of any practical
significance or use to them. The problem of making
a good life is a genuine problem only for those who
do not regard the job as done; and that includes
everyone who is over the age of six or ten and has
grown up enough to be able to think about the
problem. On the other hand, I must add the
observation, made by a wise old Greek, that it is
inadvisable to give lectures on moral philosophy to
the young. What he had in mind, I think, is that a
certain amount of experience in the business of
living and a certain seriousness of purpose are
required for anyone to understand the problem of
making a good life and to judge whether this or
that proposal for its solution is practically
sound.
With all these considerations in mind, I am
going to address this book to persons who, in
experience and character, are old enough not only
to understand the question but also to judge the
answers, and young enough in years to do something
about applying what they have learned to their own
lives during whatever time remains to them on
earth. In other words, I will proceed on the
assumption that my readers already have enough
commonsense wisdom to become a little wiser through
the ways in which philosophy can extend and
enlighten common sense. I hope they share with me
the further assumption that it is never too late
just as (with the one exception of infancy) it is
certainly never too early to give thought to the
direction one is going in, and to take steps to
rectify it if, upon reflection, that direction is
seen to be wrong.
( 2 )
We can put these matters to the test by seeing
what is involved in understanding the question --
understanding it in the light of common sense and
common human experience. When you think about the
question, How can I make a good life for
myself?
(1) Do you realize that the question concerns
the whole of your life, from the moment you begin
to direct it for yourself until it is over -- or at
least until no genuine options remain?
(2) Do you think of the whole of your life, or
whatever part of it that remains, as a span of time
-- of hours, days, months, and years -- that is
like a vacuum in the sense that it is time you can
fill in one way or another, time that, in any case,
you are consuming or using up, no matter how you
fill it?
(3) Do you recognize that the ways in which this
vacuum of time can be filled by you consist of the
various activities you engage in, either entirely
by free choice or under some form or degree of
compulsion?
(4) Do you include among these ways of consuming
the time of your life an option that can be called
"time-wasting" or "time-killing" because it
consists in passing the time by doing nothing or as
nearly nothing as possible?
- Another and, perhaps, better name for this
form of inactivity or relatively slight activity
might be "idling." I shall have more to say on
the subject of idling and idleness later.
(5) Do you understand that, whereas your choice
is not entirely free because you are under some
degree of compulsion to spend time doing this or
that, the compulsion is never so complete that your
freedom is totally abrogated?
- The glaring exception is, of course, the
chattel slave, whose life is not his own, whose
time belongs to another man to use as he sees
fit. Slavery is a thing of degrees -- from the
extreme of complete bondage or chattel slavery,
where the human being is owned and used like a
piece of inanimate property or a beast of
burden, to the milder forms of servitude in
which a man's life is not wholly his own, but
some portion of his time remains for him to use
as he himself sees fit. The question with which
we are concerned is clearly not one for chattel
slaves; it may not even be a practically
significant question for those who are slaves in
any degree or form of servitude.
(6) Do you appreciate, in consequence of what
has just been said, that freedom in all its forms,
especially freedom of choice and freedom from
coercion and intimidation, is an indispensable
prerequisite for dealing, in any practically
significant way, with the question, How can I
make a good life for myself?
- Without the essential freedoms -- the two I
have just mentioned, and others equally
important that I will mention later -- the time
of our lives is not ours to use and fill. If the
distinction between a good life and a bad life,
between living well and living poorly, between a
life worth living or having lived and a life
that is not worth living or having lived, can be
made intelligible and can be defended against
those who carp against such words as "good" and
"bad" applied to a human life or anything else,
then freedom is certainly good and slavery or
lack of freedom is certainly bad; and the
goodness of freedom consists in its being
indispensable to our trying to make good lives
for ourselves: it is good as a means to this
end.
(7) Do you further appreciate that the exercise
of your freedom at one time often imposes some
limitations upon further use of your freedom at a
later time, for the time of your life consists of
stages, and the decisions you make in its earlier
stages affect the choices left open to you in later
stages?
- Hence the decisions any of us make in youth
are among the most important decisions we are
ever able to make, because they have such
far-reaching effects on the range and character
of the options that remain open to us. This
holds true to some extent of every stage of
life. Every choice we make is one that should
involve a weighing of its immediate against its
remote effects.
(8) To state this last question in another way,
do you realize that the use of your time today or
this year affects not only the quality of your life
in the present, but also its quality in the future?
Do the activities with which you now fill your time
and which now seem good to you preclude your using
your time later in a way that will then seem good
to you? Or will they, in addition to seeming good
to you now, facilitate your living in a way that
will seem good to you later -- years
later?
(9) If you do realize this, do you also
understand the full significance of the statement
that, if life were a day-to-day affair, either we
would have no moral problems at all or those
problems would be so simple as to deserve little or
no thought?
- If, at the end of each day, we closed the
books, if there were no carry-over accounts from
one day to the next, if what happened to us in
the days of our childhood or what we did when we
were young had little or no effect on the rest
of our lives, then our choices would all be
momentary or passing ones and a jug of wine, a
loaf of bread, and thou might well be enough for
life on a day-to-day basis. In fact, this is the
way that animals do live -- on a day-to-day
basis, without a thought for the morrow, except
in the case of certain hoarding instincts that,
being instincts, involve no thought on the
animal's part.
(10) Do you, in consequence, understand further
that the problem of making a whole human life that
is really good -- good in each of its parts, and
good in a way that results from each part's
contributing what it ought to contribute to the
whole -- exists for you precisely because, at every
stage of your life, in every day of your existence,
you are faced with the basic moral alternative of
choosing between a good time today and a good life
as a whole -- a choice between what is only useful,
expedient, or pleasant in the short run, and what
will contribute, in the long run, to making your
whole life good?
- Of all the points made so far, this is,
perhaps, the one most difficult to understand in
the early years of life -- the time when,
practically, it is most important to understand
it. It is in the early years of our lives that
we are disinclined to make choices that favor
the long as against the short run, probably
because the eventualities of the long rim then
seem so remote. This lies at the root of the
generation gap. On one side are those who find
the long run unreal or too remote to think
about; on the other are those for whom it has
become a reality and a dominant consideration.
The great misfortune of the human race, in every
generation, is that its younger members -- at
the time of their lives when it is most
important to understand this point -- find it
extremely difficult to understand and often fail
to understand it. But if the point is only
difficult, not impossible, for the young to
understand, then it is of the greatest
importance that sound moral instruction and
training help them to understand it at the
earliest possible moment in their lives. Their
elders may finally have come to understand it
only too well, and with some measure of remorse
that their understanding has come too late for
them to make the best use of such wisdom.
(11) In the light of the fact that making a good
life as a whole necessarily entails long-range
considerations, does it not now seem evident that
you cannot make a good life for yourself by choice
rather than by chance unless you have some kind of
plan for your life as a whole -- a plan for the use
of its time in the present, in the years
immediately ahead, and in the long run?
- If everything were left to chance, there
would be no point in even asking the question,
How can I make a good life for myself? Seriously
to consider that question is to assume that one
can solve it by the choices one can make. But to
exercise choice in the earlier stages of life
without a plan for the whole is to leave much to
chance. Early choices may severely limit our
freedom in later stages of life, and so the lack
of a plan may result in our having to fill our
time in ways we would not have chosen had we
foreseen the remote effects of our earlier
choices and had we made them with a plan in
mind.
(12) Finally, does not this point about the
obvious need for a plan suggest the analogy between
making a whole life that is good and making a work
of art that is good?
- In some of the creative arts, such as
architecture, the process of building does not
begin until a detailed plan or blueprint is
ready. In other arts, the plan of the thing to
be produced -- a painting, a novel, a piece of
music -- is usually much less detailed than
that. It is often only a sketch or an outline of
the creative idea. But in any case the work of
the artist is always guided by some vision, more
or less detailed, of the end result. Without
such a guiding plan, the end result would be a
thing of chance rather than a work of art. To
this extent at least, there is a parallel
between the production of a work of art and the
making of a good life.
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