What Matters?

It is often difficult to understand which things we desire for their own sake, and which things we desire simply as a means to what really matters.

Like most of us, I have become increasingly aware of how much more divided and acrimonious our social environment has become. The news is filled with political meanness and the public argument identified as “culture wars.”

Then there’s the spill over into personal relationships; spanning from the odd acquaintance eager to discount global warming on a 100-degree day, to a family member demanding the use of gender free pronouns. All of us, regardless of our position on the political spectrum, have become ever more willing to jeopardize relationships as the collateral cost of expressing our opinions.

Yes, a part of this acrimony is spent purely to advance a point of view, but in a larger way it’s meant to make another point — the assertion of our own personhood, a statement of our independence, our autonomy, our own identity — none of which will be changed by what anyone else thinks.

In an odd way it’s paradoxical. People are intent that others believe “they could care less what others think” simply because “what others think” matters so much to them.

There’s the spectacle of drivers cutting off drivers, a preference for vehicles almost comically large, bumper stickers meant to be rude and provocative, music played at impossible volumes, homes allowed to go to seed in an oblivious way — and all of this enabled by a sense of self-assertion meant to claim a hyper-individualized form of autonomy.

It’s as if “being my own person” has come to mean “being the one person who matters.”

Now back to my original point about things desired for their own sake, as opposed to things that aren’t.

Why is it that we desire things. Why do we desire things both in the purely material sense, as well as those non-material things used to calculate prestige? Why would we like to own a new super large pick-up truck, or a PhD? Do these things come with inherit worth, with some intrinsic satisfaction or value?

Yes, to some degree… a Ford Super Duty improves your mobility, and a PhD provides the means to an academic career. However, you don’t need a PhD to increase your knowledge or understanding, and the ability to cart things around can be had in something less expensive than a giant Ford Super Duty.

So why are “things” so important.

Most likely it boils down to the effect we believe those things will have on those we want to impress. We ask ourselves, “How will others see me if I’m in a huge pick-up truck?” or, “Will they be impressed if they know I have a doctorate?”

A good way to deduce the truth of all this is to ask yourself, “If I were the only person on the face of the earth, what pleasure would there be in a Super Duty? What prestige would there be in a PhD? What reason would there be in acquiring those things solely for their own sake?”

So, in fact, what other’s think is important to us… regardless of anyone’s “I don’t care what anyone thinks” posture. When it comes to being admired by others, no truck is large enough and you can’t have too many letters attached to your last name.

Yet, we let those “things,” pursued with such sacrifice and effort, lure us away from the goal of being well regarded by those whose good opinion we seek. We cut off small cars in heavy traffic and look down our nose at anyone without a college degree. Even as we acquire the “means” to be well regarded, we sacrifice “the fact” of being well regarded.

What do I think?

I think we should admit the obvious. We are not here simply for ourselves. We are here for other people. The thoughts and feelings of others do truly matter, and to believe this is true does not make us shallow or lacking in self-worth. The proper end of all our efforts should be an improvement in the condition of other people, and to the extent that those efforts are not that, then they are wasted.

Too often we are seduced by the means we adopt to attract the good opinion of others, and wind up instead crowning the means as our primary objective. There is no greater betrayal of a good objective than to sell it out for a side effect, or some collateral benefit, especially when that “side effect” or “benefit” becomes the very antithesis of the good itself.