The Case for Self-Denial

Source: Bruno/Germany Pixabay, Public Domain

The standard view is that the path to the life well-led is furthered by pleasure: material, social, entertainment.

Under-considered is the life of self-denial: poverty, giving expecting nothing in return, the only pleasure being in feeling virtuous. While some religions encourage self-denial, such a life can be completely secular.

Key to defending the self-denying life is how we define the life well-led. The self-denying life is easily defended if we define it purely in terms of contribution: the extent to which a person caused the world to be a better place than when entering it. But the self-denying life can be defended even if the life well-led is defined more conventionally, for example, the pursuit of happiness, as long as you define happiness to include others, with your happiness being only a tiny part.

Few people can benefit the whole world. Indeed, most of us have but a small sphere of influence, which can be expanded but modestly. But the self-denier’s goal must be to spend as many of life’s minutes in the service of improving the lives in our sphere of influence. That usually requires considerable self-denial.

Why? Because pursuing the material generally demands that you work on activities that employers know you wouldn’t do for free; that's why they have to pay you. Those activities disproportionately aren't maximally contributory. For example, most people, if they could cure cancer, would do it even if unpaid, but only if they were paid would they trade bonds, send billing notices, or sell a fungible widget. If you live a non-materialistic life, it's easier to forgo those in favor of activities likely to yield greater benefit.

Of course, very few people have the potential to cure cancer. The best we can do is to use our best natural abilities and acquired skills in the pursuit of something that will yield much benefit to others, importantly, benefits that wouldn’t accrue if not for your efforts.

For example, the pool of intellectually gifted kids from working-class backgrounds has great unrealized potential. If you'd be a good researcher, you might observe, interview, and assess mentor-pairs to identify the keys to successful mentorship. If your best ability and skills are in training, you might develop an online training program for mentors of gifted kids. If you're a computer programmer, you might create software that matches mentors with proteges. If you're a gifted salesperson, you might lobby for funding for such activities. If you're a writer, you might write a grant proposal for them. If you're an accountant type, you could audit related organizations to ensure their money is well spent. If you're an artist, you could create renderings that portray such mentorships' benefits.

If you were worried about making much money, you probably couldn’t afford to take the risk of pursuing such activities. If you were focused on pleasure, you probably could find more enjoyable ways to work. The self-denier would also spend little time on recreation: Every hour spent watching a sitcom, playing a game, or zoning out, is an hour of not being maximally contributory.

But if you embrace the wisdom of living a life of self-denial, you would, with vigor and without procrastination, pursue contributory activities as much as possible. And because you're doing work that you do well and feel is important, you’re unlikely to burn out or suffer health consequences.

The takeaway

Obviously, most people aren't attracted to a life so centered around contribution that it requires major self-denial. But for the small percentage of people who would consider such a life but for societal pressure, perhaps this post provides a nudge. Compared with the standard life, the self-denying one can paradoxically feel and be more rewarding.

I read this aloud on YouTube. I expand on this in this 24-minute YouTube.