The Nature and the Pursuit of Happiness

The question of the ‘good life’ - what it consists of, how it can be pursued, and how one can tell if one is living it - has been one of the most pervasive and important questions throughout the history of human thought. In this paper I seek to offer a new perspective on this seemingly ageless question. In the first and more theoretical portion I explore the nature of happiness, attempting to enlarge our understanding of its meaning, and then to show that when happiness is conceived in such broad terms it can be seen as humankind’s most ultimate end. In the second, more practical portion, I explore how humans can pursue happiness. Here I contrast the Stoic, Epicurean, and Buddhist approach to happiness as contentment against the Nietzchean approach to happiness as passionate joy, finally concluding that the happiest life will be one which wisely combines both of these approaches.

Humans have many goods, many different ends to which they find themselves drawn. In the words of Herman Hesse, ‘[any individual’s] life oscillates, as everyone’s does, not merely between two poles, such as the body and the spirit, the saint and the sinner, but between thousands and thousands’(Steppenwolf 1963, 67). Anyone who takes a moment and looks honestly at the desires bubbling within will find this to be the case. One wishes to produce great works, and one wishes to rest peacefully enjoying the music the wind plays upon the leaves. One yearns for the respect of others, and one yearns to be an individual, free to make decisions without fear of condemnation. One wants to be loved and cherished, and one wants to be unfettered by commitment.

With such myriad desires, it is inevitable that competition will eventually arise among them. Oftentimes, attaining one goal requires sacrificing another goal. Support for this truth, too, can be found by anyone who looks carefully into himself and his own history. Inevitably, success in a career has at one time required the relinquishing of coveted leisure time. Assuredly, involvement in a romantic relationship has demanded compromises and concessions.

Such competition between competing goals, competing goods, gives rise to decisions. One is not able to meet all desires, and must recognize that an attempt to realize all of his or her goals will result in the achievement of none, or at best very few, of these. Consequently, each person selects from the vast array of desired ends those which are most desired, those which he or she most wishes to realize. These goods are the ones that are then actively pursued.

Thus, in making decisions man invariably ranks desires, selecting those which are most valued and working towards their realization. The actions humans consciously choose reflect the hierarchical structure of their value systems. By carefully observing where an individual’s time and effort are invested, we can discern what that individual values most.

When we undertake such a close examination of man’s actions, however, we soon discover that this relationship between these actions and the values which they aim to achieve can be quite complex. We often find that the immediate consequences of these actions are not the goals motivating the actions. For instance, many a woman has entered a MBA program not because she expected to find personal fulfilment in researching economic forces, but because the final degree would allow her to obtain a good job. Many a woman has gone to work day in and day out not because she truly wished to increase her company’s market share, but because the job provided her with a large paycheck. Any examination will uncover such chains tracing back from an action through it consequences, through the consequences of those consequences, to a more fundamental motivating ideal. The good which lies at the end of this chain is the true motivating force behind the action. It is the end at which the deed was truly aimed.

That most actions have as their final goal something other than their direct and immediate consequences Aristotle asserted long ago in Nicomachean Ethics. He argued, ‘though apparently there are many ends, we choose some of them, e.g. wealth, flutes and, in general, instruments, because of something else; hence it is clear that not all ends are complete’(1995, 26-27). Most ends are ‘incomplete’ - they are not done for their own sake; rather, they are done for the sake of some other, higher end.

This chain of ends cannot proceed onwards indefinitely, however. If it is pursued for long enough, it must eventually lead to an end which is complete. Inevitably, we will find ourselves presented with a goal that is ‘good’ for its own sake - an end which is valuable in and of itself, without thought of other rewards it might produce. The previous ends were not solely ends; they were also instruments, employed to move the individual towards this final goal. This final end is not instrumental in any way - it is desired for itself alone.

Aristotle, too, held this view that an ultimate, or ‘complete’ end must exist. In Nicomachean Ethics he spoke clearly of this final goal, explaining,

An end pursued in itself, we say, is more complete than an end pursued because of something else; and an end that is never choiceworthy because of something else is more complete than ends which are choiceworthy both in themselves and because of this end; and hence an end that is always choiceworthy in itself, never because of something else, is unconditionally complete. (1995, 665)

The most complete end is the one chosen solely its own sake. And what, in the eyes of Aristotle, is the most ‘ultimate’, the most ‘complete’ of the ends that man pursues? He answers, ‘Happiness[1] more than anything else seems unconditionally complete, since we always choose it because of itself, never because of something else’ (1995, 665).

Before we begin to examine the validity of his claim and mine, we ought to be certain what precisely this term denotes. ‘Happiness’ is a word with which our society refers to a vast array of ideas. In its first appearance in the English written word, in 1530, it signified good fortune or luck (OED, 1989). Since then it has come to connote cheerfulness, joy, good-spirits and merry-making. It incorporates an immense array of human experience, ranging from ecstasy to mild pleasure, from a sense of fulfilment and worth to a fleeting smile or laugh. This immense berth of definitions only broadens as one considers the numerous uses and connotations it has in cultures all around the world. Consequently, prior to any meaningfully assessment of this claim that happiness is man’s ultimate end, we ought to address our understanding of what ‘happiness’ means.

It is a very difficult term for us to get our fingers around. It is not a quantity which can be easily measured, or a concept that can be outlined without ambiguity - I find myself unable to create any succinct definition to which I have no objections. I rest assured that this word already has a certain meaning for you, a meaning which has many of the same traits that I envision. However, I feel just as certain that this word has some connotations for you which I do not intend. Consequently, I will aim my efforts at ridding us of these differences. In the process, I hope, what I mean by ‘happiness’ will become clear, and the separate facets I address, when summed together in your mind, will provide you with a fairly complete understanding of my intentions.

Happiness is not simply the hedonistic physical indulgences that so quickly come to mind. Certainly, such physical pleasures can, and often do, promote happiness. Eating, drinking, and generally making merry are all enjoyable, and insofar as they are enjoyable, they aim towards happiness. Yet the emptiness that one feels when reading of Huxley’s ‘utopia’ testifies strongly that our happiness requires more than simple somatic pleasures. Thus, any well developed conception of human happiness must be much broader than just the immediate gratification of physical desires.

Alongside physical pleasures, happiness also entails mental pleasures. As J. S. Mill argues in Utilitarianism, ‘Next to selfishness, the principal cause which makes life unsatisfactory is want of mental cultivation’(1962, 265). An evening curled up by the fire with a book; a night spent listening to a performance of Bach; a challenging game of chess, or an engrossing debate with a friend - these kinds of pleasures must also be incorporated in any full understanding of happiness.

Despite its close association with these physical and mental pleasures, happiness is not simply an amassing of such joys in the present. It is misguided to imagine that a pursuit of pleasure would only be aimed at immediate pleasures. Often, the deferment of such immediate indulgences results in greater future rewards - foregoing the pleasures available at this moment can yield much greater pleasures later. Thus a wise pursuit of happiness may often entail an investment, the acceptance of suffering in the present to receive future enjoyment. Such a pursuit is exemplified by the many religions which advocate the renunciation of pleasure in this existence in order to achieve an infinite bliss in a subsequent existence - an investment in future happiness.

Just as a proper conception of happiness does not relate solely to present pleasures, it does not pertain exclusively to pleasure, either. The renunciation of present pleasures in order to avoid ensuing pain is entailed in a wise pursuit of happiness. Because pain counteracts happiness, finding happiness may often entail foregoing a small amount of pleasure to avoid a greater amount of pain. Again, religious activity provides us with a perfect example, as adherents forego pleasure in the present in order to avoid the pain of damnation or the pain of continuing existence.

This understanding of happiness - the amassing of both physical and non-physical pleasures and the avoidance of both physical and non-physical pains in a temporal framework - may well provide you with a sufficient understanding of what I mean when I use the term. However, I have found in the past that by employing too succinct and too theoretical an explanation I have still left distance between my understanding of the term and my readers’ understanding. Therefore, I will briefly mention a few of the non-physical pleasures that I see as particularly important to a happy life, and hopefully remove any remaining distance between your understanding of happiness and mine.

One of these key pleasures is related to the human need for interaction with others. Mill spoke in Utilitarianism of ‘the social feelings of mankind; the desire to be in unity with our fellow creatures, which is already a powerful principle in human nature’(1962, 284). Isolation from others is generally painful, company commonly pleasurable. This universal fact was recognized long ago as man instituted solitary confinement as punishment. Many governments today consider this form of punishment painful enough to hurt those who have already been incarcerated, and use it as a threat to keep difficult prisoners in line. Undeniably, we need human interaction - its close relation to our happiness is written into our constitutions.

Consequently, happiness cannot easily be separated from considerations of the welfare of others. Our need for social interaction, our need for the support of others, requires that we consider their desires in order to propagate pleasurable relationships. Mill again explains, ‘When people who are tolerably fortunate in their outward lot do not find in life sufficient enjoyment to make it valuable to them, the cause generally is, caring for nobody but themselves’(Utilitarianism 1962, 264). Kindness to others, insofar as it is aimed at the reciprocation of kindness and friendship from others, is a pursuit of happiness.

Similarly, kindness to others, insofar as it aims after our gratification in seeing them prosper, is a pursuit of our happiness. As we grow close to others, their welfare becomes interwoven with our own. From experience you can attest to the pain involved in seeing someone hurt whom you love dearly. As our connection with another deepens, that individual’s well-being becomes essential to our well-being; pursuing the other’s happiness becomes synonymous with pursuing our own. Consequently, happiness cannot entail a consideration of our desires alone; it must also include consideration of those whom we care about.

Just as the welfare of others becomes important to you, so does their esteem. Happiness is not divorced from the opinions of others. Receiving the praise of others is pleasurable. The knowledge that you are loved or appreciated gives joy. Being scoffed at or ridiculed is painful. Efforts to meet social norms, continual considerations of how one appears to others, the immense power that peer pressure can exert - all attest to the fact that commendation from those around us is of great importance. In this way, happiness is interwoven with promoting one’s worth in the eyes of others.

Just as happiness cannot be separated from the esteem of others, it cannot be separated from the esteem of one’s self. Being valuable in your own eyes is an agreeable state. The thought of yourself as ‘good’, whether that entails being talented, or successful, or self-sufficient, or lovable, is a pleasant experience. Consequently, happiness is not divorced from your view of yourself. This inability to separate the two becomes even more evident when we consider the pain that accompanies low self-esteem. The thought of yourself as inadequate - the belief that you are incompetent, a failure, or unlovable - is torturous. Certainly, ridding oneself of these feelings increases happiness. This connection between self improvement and happiness becomes most evident in the arena of morality. As Plato claimed in The Gorgias, ‘The admirable and good person, man or woman, is happy, but the one who’s unjust and wicked is miserable’(1995, 172). The man who believes himself evil and unworthy is riddled by painful guilt, abused by his poor self esteem. Thus he invests himself in moral actions in hopes of avoiding such pain. These moral actions not only free him from the heavy hand of his conscience, they also reward him with a view of himself as a good and valuable agent. Plato understood how closely moral actions are tied to happiness.

I hope that the primary disparities between our understandings of this term have been swept away, and that what is called into your mind by ‘happiness’ has now become very similar to what that term calls into mine. Certainly, I imagine a meaning similar to that of J. S. Mill - ‘an existence exempt as far as possible from pain, and as rich as possible in enjoyments’ (Utilitarianism 1962, 262). Similarly, my words would parallel those of the father of modern psychology, Sigmund Freud, who defined happiness as ‘an absence of pain and unpleasure, and … the experiencing of strong feelings of pleasure’(Civilization and Its Discontents 1989, 729). These seemingly succinct definitions in fact encompass the numerous facets of happiness which we have just discussed, for they contain immense and varied arrays of pains and pleasures. The pains of whose avoidance Mill and Freud speak can be physical pains, emotional pains such as fear, mental pains such as boredom, the pain of isolation from others, the pain of ridicule, or the pain of a low self-estimation. The pleasures these definitions encompass are just as diverse, for they include physical pleasure as well as mental pleasure, the pleasure of social interaction, the pleasure of being accepted and loved by others, and the pleasure of a high self-estimation. The happiness of which I speak is not simple hedonism, but a much deeper and more complete conception of the innumerable pleasures and pains of which humans are capable.

As we now have a similar understanding of the term ‘happiness’, we are prepared to examine the claim that it is man’s ultimate end. The first step in this task is to clarify the manner of evidence for which we are searching. Assertions of goals are usually justified with either a philosophical proof or with a reference to other accepted goods. For this claim, however, we cannot employ either of those means.

We cannot seek a traditional philosophical argument because ‘questions of ultimate ends do not admit of proof, in the ordinary acceptation of the term. To be incapable of proof by reasoning is common to all first principles; to the first premises of our knowledge’(Mill, 1962, 288). Traditional philosophical proofs start from universally accepted premises and build, through rational inferences, their way slowly up to a final conclusion. Our present investigation does not allow us to employ such a technique, for we are exploring the most fundamental of premises. We cannot build from a premise towards a conclusion about man’s ultimate end because our conclusion would be more fundamental than the premises upon which it was built. To reach a conclusion about man’s ultimate end we would be forced to build upon premises about human tastes and desires - and such premises would be conjectures about man’s ends. Our question is so fundamental that any attempt at a traditional philosophical proof would inevitably result in a circular argument.

We cannot justify Aristotle’s claim through references to other goods, either. Goals are traditionally proved good by pointing to the valuable effects they produce - ‘X’ is good because it produces ‘Y’; ‘a college education’ is good because it allows one to find ‘a high paying job’. When asked to prove that ‘Y’ is good, another, more fundamental end is referenced - ‘Y’ is good because it produces ‘Z’; ‘a high paying job’ is good because it allows one ‘to support her family’. This chain of reference, however, cannot continue indefinitely. It will eventually reach a fundamental ‘good’, an end which is good in and of itself without reference to any other effects it produces. Since ‘goods’ are proved to be good through reference to other ‘goods’, and this final ‘good’ yields no other such ‘goods’, it cannot be proved valuable through this means. The assertion that happiness is man’s ultimate end is an assertion of such a fundamental good, one that is valuable in and of itself.

Thus neither philosophical proof nor references to other goods can justify Aristotle’s claim. The truth with which we are dealing is too foundational for these techniques to be of use. What we seek is an understanding of the most basic pursuit of humanity, and ‘questions of ultimate ends are not amenable to direct proof.’(Utilitarianism 1962, 254).

Unable to employ the usual methods, we find ourselves seemingly at a loss for how to proceed. Mill’s claim that ‘questions about ends are … questions about what things are desirable’(Utilitarianism 1962, 288), however, opens a new avenue for us. What we are seeking is an understanding of what man truly desires. We are attempting to assess the claim that ‘happiness is man’s ultimate end’ - evaluating whether the desire for happiness is man’s most powerful desire.

To decide whether or not humanity does in fact desire something, we must look to the evidence our observations offer. We must observe what man actually desires - examining our own experience and, as far as we can, the experience of others to see if happiness is what humans truly seek. The proof that is appropriate for such a claim is experiential in nature.

And experience holds, Mill argues, that happiness is in fact man’s ultimate end.

‘The only proof capable of being given that an object is visible, is that people actually see it. The only proof that a sound is audible, is that people hear it; and so of the other sources of our experience. In like manner, I apprehend, the sole evidence it is possible to produce that anything is desirable, is that people do actually desire it[2] . . . No reason can be given why the general happiness is desirable, except that each person, so far as he believes it to be attainable, desires his own happiness. This, however, being a fact, we have not only all the proof which this case admits of, but all which it is possible to require, that happiness is a good’(Utilitarianism 1962, 288).

The only proof that happiness is man’s ultimate end is experiential. Question yourself and others about the goals at which any action is aimed. Inevitably, the reference chain will lead to happiness. At that point the chain will end. The question, ‘Why do you wish to be happy?’ affords no answer - it is the fundamental good which admits of no further explanation.

In tracing this chain towards its final motivating desire, one will inevitably encounter other ends which could be considered good for their own sakes. But regarding any one of these other ends, as Mill points out,

in being desired for its own sake it is, however, desired as a part of happiness. The person is made, or thinks he would be made, happy by its mere possession; and is made unhappy by failure to obtain it. The desire of it is not a different thing from the desire of happiness . . . they are included in happiness. They are some of the elements of which the desire of happiness is made up. (Utilitarianism 1962, 291)

Such a partial end is desired for its own sake, and, all else being equal, the individual would choose to see it realized. This is not the sum of the motivations, however. The end is also desired because it promotes happiness. The reference chain always concludes with happiness; all other ends also function as means to this ultimate end.

This was the essence of Aristotle’s reasoning in Nicomachean Ethics. After his original claim with which we began many pages ago - his assertion that ‘happiness more than anything else seems unconditionally complete, since we always choose it because of itself, never because of something else’ - he continued to explain,

Honor, pleasure, understanding and every virtue we certainly choose because of themselves, since we would choose each of them even if it had no further result, but we also choose them for the sake of happiness, supposing that through them we shall be happy. Happiness, by contrast, no one ever chooses for their sake, or for the sake of anything else at all. (1995, 665)

Man does have other goods which are desired for their own sake, but there is no other good which is valued only for its own sake. Other goals are sought for themselves and for the happiness they bring - only happiness is sought for itself. Happiness is singular in that it is ‘unconditionally complete’, its claim to ‘goodness’ entails no reference to other ‘goods’. It is man’s most ‘complete’, most ultimate end.

To put this in more concrete terms, I will speak of virtue, the most prominent example of an incomplete end. Virtue is certainly desired for itself, as an ideal which is ‘good’ in its own right. If a person from our society knew nothing of the possible external consequences that would arise from telling a lie rather than the truth, he or she would likely choose to tell the truth. Consequently, many would argue, ‘truthfulness’ appears to be good solely for its own sake.

This, however, is not the whole story. The individual presented with such a dilemma certainly realizes that telling the truth will result in a freer conscience. Choosing the lie would entail an ‘immoral’ act, which, as we have already found, entails pain - he would experience guilt and his memory of the act would lower his self-estimation. In choosing to tell the truth he was pursuing truthfulness, but he was also pursuing happiness - the chain continued onwards to this ultimate end. ‘Truthfulness’, pursued as a good in itself, is also a means to happiness.

Thus Aristotle concluded that happiness is the ultimate end of man, for it is the only end which is desired completely for its own sake, and it is the end for which all else is desired. The proof for this is experiential, an honest evaluation of your knowledge about yourself and others and an honest and detached examination of the motivation behind your actions and the actions of those around you.

To decide whether or not this is really so, whether mankind does desire nothing for itself but that which is a pleasure to them, or of which the absence is a pain; we have evidently arrived at a question of fact and experience, dependent, like all similar questions, upon evidence. It can only be determined by practiced and self-consciousness and self-observation, assisted by observation of others. I believe that these sources of evidence, impartially consulted, will declare that desiring a thing and finding it pleasant, aversion to it and thinking of it as painful, are phenomena entirely inseparable . . . to desire anything, except in proportion as the idea of it is pleasant, is a physical and metaphysical impossibility. (Utilitarianism 1962, 292)

It is this sort of assessment, an investigation of my experiences and those of others, that has convinced me of the wisdom in Mill’s insight. I do not believe that anyone would consciously choose an action that would cause them pain unless it also provided pleasure, and so I conclude with Mill that ‘pleasure, and freedom from pain, are the only things desirable as ends; and that all desirable things … are desirable either for pleasure inherent in themselves, or as means to the promotion of pleasure and the prevention of pain’ (Utilitarianism 1962, 257).

We have established happiness as man’s ultimate end.[3] But as soon as we begin to relax in satisfaction, giving hearty congratulations all around, another question presents itself. This new question seems even more fearsome than the first. Given that we are pursuing happiness, how can we successfully accomplish our goal? What is the best means for achieving happiness?

Certainly there are a myriad of paths to which we can point. Each person seems to find happiness in his or her own way - each unique constitution seems best suited to its own unique path. Trying to outline one avenue which could give happiness to all seems a misguided effort. On the other hand, claiming that nothing meaningful can be said on the subject also seems misguided. Despite these surface differences, can we not speak of some similarities among these paths we see being successfully pursued?

We are not alone in the hope that our question admits of some answer. This hope has led numerous thinkers before us to tackle this question, and I now wish to capitalize on their efforts. Two very different answers have gained wide support, and I wish to examine both, hanging them side by side to evaluate their merits and their flaws. Each of these answers employs a slightly different conception of happiness, which will also be essential to our discussion. The first answer, which I will present through the mouths of the Epicureans, Stoics, and Buddhists, conceives of happiness as a pleasant contentment; it emphasizes the first portion of Mill’s definition and aims at minimizing the pains which could interrupt a pleasant state of comfort and peace. The second answer, which I will present through the voice of Friedrich Nietzsche, conceives of happiness as a passionate joy; it emphasizes the later portion of Mill’s definition and aims at maximizing meaningful experiences - achieving what one most ardently desires.

Our first thinkers emphasize the former portion of Mill’s definition of happiness - ‘an existence exempt as far as possible from pain’. They conceive of happiness as contentment, believing that it is found in the continuing quiet comfort that comes through proper avoidance of external and emotional disturbances. For these thinkers, happiness is inexorably bound with one’s ability to find peace.

Epicurus is a prime example of such thought. He epitomized this conception of happiness with his assertion ‘that the removal of all pain defines the magnitude of pleasure’ (Long 1986, 61). The happiest state in his eyes was the one with the least pain. One free from pain has no worries in life - no trials, no tribulations, and no concerns. One free from pain has found bliss and true happiness.

For Epicurus, as A. A. Long explains in Hellenistic Philosophy, ‘pleasure and pain are related to one another not as contraries, but as contradictories. The absence of the one entails the presence of the other’(1986, 64). An individual’s happiness is determined by the level of pain in his life. A woman, truly free from pain, is just as content no matter what her walk in life. In Epicurus’ own words, ‘The pleasure which we pursue is not merely that which excites our nature by some gratification and which is felt with delight by the senses. We regard that as the greatest pleasure which is felt when all pain has been removed’ (cited in Long 1986, 65). For him, happiness is contentment, freedom from troubles.

This does not mean that he saw no value in pleasure. On the contrary, he thought that pleasures were essential to happiness. Their importance arises from the fact that man desires pleasure. Unfulfilled desires are experienced as painful. In order to achieve happiness, in order to find freedom from pain, one must satisfy desires - one must experience pleasures. A.A. Long again assists us with an explanation:

Desire arises from a sense of need, the pain of lacking something. In order to remove this pain, desire must be satisfied . . . [but] if freedom from pain is the greatest pleasure, we should satisfy our desires not for the sake of the pleasurable sensations which accompany eating, drinking and so on, but for the sake of the state of well-being which results when all the pain due to want has been removed. (1986, 65)

The woman of whom we spoke, truly free from pain, is happy regardless of her walk in life because her walk in life causes her no pain - she has no desire to change it. If she did desire a change she would not be free from pain, and to that extent would not be truly happy. Freedom from pain is happiness; happiness is being at peace.

This conception of happiness as contentment is also held by the Stoics. They seek to perpetuate a sense of peacefulness throughout their entire lives. They argue that there are portions of the world which one can influence and portions of it which one cannot influence. It is this latter section of reality to which one must carefully monitor his attachment, finding a content happiness by avoiding pain. Whereas Epicureans seek to minimize pain by extracting themselves from this painful world, escaping the dangers of society by becoming hermits, Stoics emphasize a mental separation from the uncertain portions of the world. They remain in society but are detached from it, thereby protecting themselves.

In Stoic Counsel for Today, Ben Kimpel explains, insofar as certain contexts cannot be avoided, ‘and cannot be altered by individuals’ own efforts, individuals must decide what their responses will be to them . . .[There are two possibilities.] One is accepting defeat in relation to them. The other is controlling one’s own attitude toward them.’(1985, 21). It does not make sense to invest ourselves emotionally in the portion of reality which we know we cannot influence. To do so would be throwing one’s emotional well-being into the arms of fate, and all know from experience how cruel fate can be.

Instead, the Stoics argue, we ought to ‘control our attitude’ towards the uncertain parts of the world. Rather than becoming emotionally involved and gambling one’s joy away in an unfavourable game of chance, we ought to remain separate and unaffected. By detaching from the unknowable and uncontrollable portions of reality, we can protect ourselves from the great pain which they are likely to inflict upon us.

The Stoics argue that the happiest of men is one who has learned to accept life completely - to not be troubled by one’s situation or duties. Kimpel recounts Seneca’s claim that ‘no yoke is so tight that it hurts less to carry it than to struggle against it’, and then explains that

this formulation of a way of responding to conditions which do not admit of any alternative may well be regarded as expressing the core of Stoic moral philosophy. What an individual can do by accepting conditions which he cannot change can, nevertheless, spare him an avoidable hardship of futile acting, such as modes of anger, hate, loathing, [and] malice. (1985, 30)

Stoics seek happiness by decreasing the amount of unpleasant feelings experienced - they reduce the pain they must endure by reducing their attachments to an inhospitable world.

Not only do the Stoics thus hope to lower the amount of pain they experience, they also hope to raise the amount of pleasure they encounter. As they diminish the importance of what is out of one’s control, they in turn raise the relative value of what one does have control over. When one chooses not to emphasize his bad fortune, all that he is left with of importance is that over which he exerts control. When the bad is swept away, only the good remains. Kimpel speaks of the best reaction for a man experiencing misfortune, and argues that ‘such a response may well require a grateful acknowledgement that, although one is denied a supreme good, one is not also denied another good’(1985, 23). Though this situation seems painful, ‘he can create a way of thinking about them that converts his frustration into a modified type of well-being, frequently characterized as ‘contentment’ and also as ‘serenity’’(1985, 24).

By controlling one’s mind, one can create contentment where there would otherwise be frustration. One can move into a mental realm where pain is replaced with pleasure - one can create happiness. ‘It is a mark of enlightened living to know which aspects of reality are beyond one’s control’ (Kimpel, 1985, 200), because with this knowledge a man can properly invest his desires and attachments and thus ensure his happiness.

Buddhism is yet another thought system which conceives of happiness as contentment, and establishes as its primary goal the elimination of suffering. Located at the core of the Buddha’s doctrine are the Four Noble Truths. Spoken in the Buddha’s first sermon, they have continued to remain at the heart of all Buddhist thought.

The first of these is The Noble Truth of Suffering, generally interpreted to mean that ‘life according to Buddhism is nothing but suffering and pain’(Rahula, 1974, 16). It is not a simple pessimistic assertion, however. It contains ‘deeper ideas such as ‘imperfection’, ‘impermanence’, ‘emptiness’, ‘insubstantiality’’(Rahula, 1974, 17). Central to its meaning is the understanding that life is not perfect, and so the human search for perfection will inevitably lead to frustration and suffering. It also contains an understanding of life as transient; in the words of the Buddha, ‘The world is in continual flux’(Rahula, 1974, 26). We find that the environment around us, the people around us, and even we ourselves are always in a state of change. Consequently, ‘a happy feeling, a happy condition in life, is not permanent, not everlasting. It changes sooner or later. When it changes, it produces pain, suffering, unhappiness’(Rahula, 1974, 20).

The next Noble Truth asserts that suffering emerges most directly from this attachment to a continually changing reality. Humans inevitably desire goods which, coming from this world, are impermanent. ‘It is this ‘thirst,’ desire, greed, craving, manifesting itself in various ways, that gives rise to all forms of suffering’(Rahula, 1974, 29). This attachment can be to worldly-pleasures such as fame or money, or it can be a tie to other people, to ideals, or to beliefs. In each case, this thirst will inevitably be frustrated, and when the desire is not satisfied we will experience pain and suffering. Furthermore, this thirst activates karma, thereby continuing our existence in this realm, causing our rebirth into this world of suffering. Thus attachment is the ‘most palpable and immediate cause’(Rahula, 1974, 29) of our unhappiness.

The third Noble Truth claims that ‘there is emancipation, liberation, freedom from suffering’(Rahula, 1974, 35). This cessation of suffering comes from the elimination of its main root, attachment. We destroy this attachment to the world by gaining an understanding of its true nature - by seeing that all of existence, including ourselves, is impermanent and continually changing, that a sense of permanence is an illusion. ‘When the secret is discovered, when the Truth is seen’(Rahula 1974, 42), all our ties to the world will naturally dissolve. As attachment to this world is destroyed, we will free ourselves from the pain of unsatisfied thirsts. Furthermore, we will free ourselves from this continual cycle of rebirth into a world of suffering, entering Nirvana. Thus Dr Walpola Sri Rahula explains,

He who has realized the Truth, Nirvana, is the happiest being in the world. He is free from all ‘complexes’ and obsessions, the worries and troubles that torment others. His mental health is perfect. He does not repent the past, nor does he brood over the future. He lives fully in the present. Therefore he appreciates and enjoys things in the fullest sense. (1974, 43)

Buddhists are humans, too, and thus it is no surprise when we find their ultimate end, Nirvana, epitomizes happiness.

The fourth and final Noble Truth proclaims a ‘Middle Path’ that one can take that will lead to nirvana, the cessation of suffering. This Middle Path is generally referred to as the Noble Eightfold Path, for it contains eight separate goals to guide one on one’s journey: 1) Right Understanding; 2) Right Thought; 3) Right Speech; 4) Right Action; 5) Right Livelihood; 6) Right Effort; 7) Right Mindfulness; 8) Right Concentration. These are ‘all linked together and each helps the cultivation of the other’(Rahula, 1974, 64).

For our present goal we need not delve deeper into the complexities of the Middle Path. We have already seen that the core tenets of this thought system aim at the cessation of suffering, and that their final goal is a state of complete freedom from pain. Just as was seen in the philosophies of the Epicureans and the Stoics, the Buddhists pursue happiness through efforts to minimize pain. By decreasing desires they seek to end frustrations, avoiding the unhappiness that accompanies unsatisfied ‘thirsts’.

The happiness these three systems pursue emphasizes the first portion of Mill’s definition; they seek ‘an existence exempt as far as possible from pain’ - a happiness conceived of as contentment emerging from a more detached relationship to life. Certainly each system employs different methods to reach this common goal. The Epicureans detach by removing themselves from society, while the Stoics physically remain in society, but detach from it through conscious and continuous effort. The Buddhists, on the other hand, detach not through such a conscious effort, but through an attempt to see the true nature of reality. Though each thought employs different means, each system nonetheless seeks to end suffering by increasing detachment. All three aim, in the end, at the common goal of happiness conceived of as contentment, freedom from pain.

Another group of thinkers emphasizes the latter portion of Mill’s definition of happiness - ‘an existence … as rich as possible in enjoyments.’ These thinkers conceive of happiness as a life of passionate joy, full of desire and the chase and the final conquest. They argue that pursuing happiness conceived of as contentment does an injustice to the heights of experience of which humans are capable. As Herman Hesse writes in Steppenwolf,

It is just this contentment that I cannot endure. After a short time it fills me with irrepressible hatred and nausea. In desperation I have to escape, and throw myself on the road to pleasure, or, if that cannot be, the road to pain. When I have neither pleasure not pain and have been breathing for a while the lukewarm insipid air of these so-called good and tolerable days, I feel so bad in my childish soul that I smash my moldering lyre of thanksgiving in the face of the slumbering god of contentment and would rather feel the very devil burn within me than this warmth of a well-heated room. A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal, and sterile life … For what I always hated and detested and cursed above all things was this contentment, this healthiness and comfort, this carefully preserved optimism. (1963, 31)

These thinkers believe happiness to be more than contentment. It cannot be found by simply escaping from desire, ending suffering and finding peace. Nietzsche, whose philosophy is one of the most prominent examples of such thought, looks down on those pursuing such an empty happiness, reproving, ‘It is clear … How little you know of human happiness, you comfortable and benevolent people’ (The Gay Science 1974, 270). He does not believe that happiness can be found in comfort or contentment. ‘Only a modest virtue gets along with contentment’ (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 169), while an individual of great virtue finds a much richer happiness. To Nietzsche, this true happiness is to be found in the pursuit of a deep, burning joy. The extent of happiness is not defined by the ‘removal of pain’ as Epicurus posited, but by full devotion to what one loves.

The proper object for such devotion is a question of great importance, for it provides the goal around which this ‘passionate happiness’ is built. Foremost, such an object must appeal to an individual’s tastes, or as Nietzsche phrases it - ‘Everything you like you should first let yourself be commanded to do’ Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 48). One’s own personal constitution points towards the proper end - that which naturally appears good will be the most fulfilling of possible goals. Of the proper goal one will be able to say, ‘[it] is my taste - not good, not bad, but my taste of which I am no longer ashamed and which I have no wish to hide. ‘This is my way; where is yours?’ - thus I answered those who asked me ‘the way.’ For the way - that does not exist’(Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 195).

However, it is difficult to establish goals that accord so directly with an individual’s tastes. Society imposes its own tastes upon all its inhabitants, pushing them to favour its ‘gods’, its own moral code and set of goods. When one is raised in the presence of such strong and pervasive social values, he or she often begins to accept them as his or her own. To observe this, we need simply to watch those all around us running blindly after money or success because they have been taught that this is what they ought to achieve. Although these ends do not appeal to the individuals’ personal tastes, they rise to the top of his or her hierarchy of desires as the society’s value system is accepted. As Nietzsche explains, ‘Whenever we encounter a morality, we always encounter valuations and an order of rank of human impulses and actions. These valuations and orders of rank are always expressions of the needs of a community and herd … Morality trains the individual to be a function of the herd’(The Gay Science 1974, 174-175).

Thus, all too often, the goals pursued are not the objects that are truly ‘most desired’. This discrepancy between goals and innate tastes can hinder our ability to attain happiness. On the one hand, even if we achieve our goals we still will not attain the greatest happiness of which we are capable, for we will not have what we truly desire. If, on the other hand, we attain what appeals to our most passionate tastes, we will again fall short of our potential happiness insofar as we are pained by the recognition that we have not achieved what society tells us we ‘ought’ to achieve. So long as such a dichotomy of values exists, we will find it difficult to devote ourselves fully to any end.

If we are to realize the great joy of which we are capable, we must reconcile this discrepancy between our tastes and our estimation of what is ‘good,’ ‘proper,’ and of greatest value. Our tastes and goals must be brought into accordance with one another before we can find the passionate happiness which Nietzsche applauds. What is pursued must be appealing as well as being esteemed as valuable.

Thus Nietzsche concludes that in the pursuit of happiness we must recreate our hierarchy of goods, bringing them into accordance with our own desires. Those goals which had little appeal should be discarded, for ‘where one can no longer love, there one should pass by’ (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 178). Instead, we ought to establish new ends, devoting ‘ourselves to the purification of our opinions and valuations and to the creation of our own new tables of what is good, and let us stop brooding about the ‘moral value of our actions’’ (The Gay Science 1974, 266). Only after we have erected a new value system - one which our constitutions allows us to embrace wholeheartedly - can we achieve the passion that Nietzsche considers so important for a fulfilling happiness.

This new table of values is what he spoke of so elegantly in Aphorism 289 of The Gay Science:

Consider how every individual is affected by an overall philosophical justification of his way of living and thinking: he experiences it as a sun that shines especially for him and bestows warmth, blessings, and fertility on him; it makes him independent of praise and blame, self-sufficient, rich, liberal with happiness and goodwill; incessantly it refashions evil into good, leads all energies to bloom and ripen, and does not permit the petty weeds of grief and chagrin to come up at all. (1974, 231)

This ‘philosophical justification’ of ourselves, the erection of a value system to which we can give complete devotion, is the key to passionate happiness. It is only by creating such individualized ends, ends which appeal to us above all else, that we can we gain the true joy of which Nietzsche conceives - only through this method we can find a life simultaneously full of pleasure and full of meaning.

Certainly Nietzsche recognizes the danger of pain that is inherent in such an approach. As we establish such an end and devote ourselves completely to such a goal, we open ourselves to the possibility of failure. In turn, the more strongly we desire, the more painful it will be to fall short of our mark. To devote ourselves unabashedly is to risk pain. To truly love is to be able to truly lose, and Nietzsche is well aware of the agony we chance as we take up this passionate approach to life.

However, he believes this pain is worthwhile. The joy which can be obtained is worth the risk. If we never devote ourselves to a good, there will be nothing which can give us a true, fulfilling happiness. If we are to have this pure ecstasy, we must obtain pure beauty, and we can find pure beauty only through complete devotion to our own goods. Such devotion leads to pain, but the joy in such devotion is more than worth the suffering.

He asserts this claim time and again, maintaining that the purity and height of this happiness are well worth the suffering this state entails. In Aphorism 371 in The Gay Science he cries, ‘This is our fate, as I have said; we grow in height; and even if this should be our fatality - for we dwell ever closer to the lightening - well, we do not on that account wish to honor it less’ (1974, 332). The pain in such a passionate life does not make that life, or the ends it pursues, any less beautiful or meaningful.

This approach to life is warranted by the chance it offers for improvement as well as by the joy it affords. Indeed, a passionate embrace of one’s life and loves is the best path to the truth. It is always through mistakes and suffering that humans learn the most. Nietzsche recalls the benefits of his own trials and tribulations: ‘I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for myself’(Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 31). It was only through pain that he found the road to happiness; it was only through foolish actions that he found the path to wisdom.

Wisdom is reached through trial and error. Nietzsche articulates this metaphorically: ‘whoever guesses what is my will should also guess on that crooked paths it must proceed. Whatever I create and however much I love it - soon I must oppose it and my love; thus my will wills it’ (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 115). Experience is always directing man to higher goals, showing him when the means he is employing in his search for happiness are unable to realize this end. Mistakes lead to redirection, and without such corrections man’s course will never lead to his desired destination. For this reason Nietzsche advocates the view of ‘‘Life as a means to knowledge’ - with this principle in one’s heart one can live not only boldly but even gaily, and laugh gaily, too’ (The Gay Science 1974, 255).

When you are directing yourself towards a good of your own choosing, when life is a quest for what you truly desire and not a frantic attempt to meet the mandates of society, you can accept defeats and the pain they entail as important steps towards your goal. Mistakes are inevitable, and hence they can be accepted by a thinker [who] sees his own actions as experiments and questions - as attempts to find out something. Success and failure are for him answers above all. (The Gay Science 1974, 108).

Mistakes are tolerable, even desirable when one understands their importance and utility.

Even pain, then, need not be dreaded. By observing that time and again ‘where pride is hurt, there something better than pride is likely to grow’ (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 143), ‘we can see how everything that happens always turns out for the best’ (The Gay Science 1974, 224). As pain leads to improvement and moves us forward on the road to happiness, so even suffering is not a failure. Thus Nietzsche concludes that the pain entailed in the pursuit of a passionate joy does not make contentment the superior choice, for ‘it is out of the deepest depths that the highest must come to its height’ (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 154).

Moreover, man must experience pain before any type of pleasure can be felt. Human psychology is such that any increase in fortune yields an increase in happiness. If one receives a promotion or purchases a new car, he will find a resultant joy. If this state of good fortune is prolonged, however, the original feeling of elation will fade away. This state of fortune will become equated with mere contentment in his mind, and will no longer produce feelings of true joy. After one has held his ‘new’ job for several years, it will become the status quo and he will begin to search for better fortunes. Similarly, after driving his ‘new’ car for a season that, too, will become the status quo, and he will develop interest in the next year’s models.

Freud realized this truth about man’s psyche as well, and explained in Civilization and Its Discontents, ‘When any situation that is desired by the pleasure principle is prolonged, it only produces a feeling of mild contentment. We are so made that we can derive intense enjoyment only from a contrast and very little from a state of things. Thus our possibilities of happiness are already restricted by our constitutions’(1989, 729). To convince ourselves of this truth, we need only to observe the increases in fortune in our own lifetimes and the happiness with which they were originally met, and contrast that with the level of happiness those same improvements yield now that they are part of the status quo. Or, we simply can compare the numerous accounts of millionaires who state with assurance that money cannot bring happiness against the multitudes of poor who believe that if they could only become millionaires they would suddenly be happy. Both, in a sense, are right.

In Nietzsche’s eyes this truth provides yet another reason to favour the passionate pursuit of happiness. Man needs contrast to experience happiness, and for that reason we cannot reasonably expect to find happiness if we successfully avoid all pain. Thus he argues,

What if pleasure and displeasure were so tied together that whoever wanted to have as much as possible of one must also have as much as possible of the other - that whoever wanted to learn to ‘jubilate up to the heavens’ would also have to be prepared for ‘depression unto death’? And that is how things may well be. At least the Stoics believed that this was how things were, and they were consistent when they also desired as little pleasure as possible, in order to get as little displeasure as possible out of life. (The Gay Science 1974, 85-86)

Contrast is the fundamental nature of value. Something can be high only if it is compared to something which is low. If the entire surface of the earth was as far away from its centre as the top of Mt Everest now is, it is unlikely that such an ‘altitude’ would be considered ‘high’. Similarly, without the knowledge of any contrasting dark colours, white and yellow would certainly not be deemed ‘light’. Without any knowledge of the pain of which we are capable, we will never find passionate happiness in our good fortune. This is the meaning in Nietzsche’s exaltation, ‘Who will sing a song for us, a morning song, so sunny, so light, so fledged that it will not chase away the blues but invite them instead to join in the singing and dancing?’ (The Gay Science 1974, 348) - we must embrace our sadness if we are to find happiness. Once we understand that contrast is necessary for any happiness, we will see that any attempt to find happiness by ending unhappiness is fundamentally flawed, condemned to failure by the nature of man’s psyche.

Thus Nietzsche concludes that the suffering a passionate life entails is made more than acceptable by the great joy such a life can yield, the self-improvement and knowledge that can be gained, and the fact that no pleasure can be obtained without contrast. The passionate approach, he argues, offers a joy infinitely more valuable than the happiness of contentment pursued by Epicurus, the Stoics, or Buddhists. He implores that we each erect our own goods, our own ‘gods,’ to which we will devote ourselves completely, embracing the fullness that life has to offer. ‘Oh,’ Nietzsche cries, ‘that you could reject all half-hearted willing and would become resolute in sloth and deed!’ (Thus Spoke Zarathustra 1978, 172).

And in harmony Goethe, another German romantic, echoed through the voice of Faust:

Let our passions drink fill!
In magic veils, not pierced by skill,
Let every wonder be at hand!
Plunge into time’s whirl that dazes my sense,
Into the torrent of events!
And let enjoyment, distress,
Annoyance and success
Succeed each other as best they can;
For restless activity proves a man. (1963, 187)

This is the second answer we find to the question of how happiness is best pursued. Happiness is the latter portion of Mill’s definition, a life ‘as rich as possible in enjoyments’ - a passionate embrace of the human experience.

When these two answers are hung side by side, the pleas of the Epicureans, the Stoics, and the Buddhists echoing off of the rejoinders of Nietzsche, we find ourselves caught between two truths. Certainly, as our first group of sages would argue, it is possible at many times to diminish unnecessary pain in one’s life by reevaluating the situation and separating oneself from those misfortunes which cannot be changed. If one’s car was totalled, one’s laptop was stolen, or one’s thesis was deleted, becoming enraged would serve no purpose. Similarly, if one lost a job or a large financial investment, grieving would provide no benefits, but would exact great emotional costs. Continuing attachment to that which has been irrevocably lost will not bring it back more quickly - what has been destroyed will not return no matter how unhappy one becomes. Thus it appears that in such cases attachment is best avoided, for the pain it causes will yield no reward. Perpetuating attachment to what is certain not to return is simply unwise; separation can dissolve much of the pain without sacrificing anything. In these instances, the Stoic approach certainly seems the sensible choice.

On the other hand, it seems just as certain that a life of complete detachment - a life with no passion - will be a life with very little meaning. To choose to remain detached from the surrounding world is to choose not to invest anything with great value. As the individual detaches in this manner, he or she is left with nothing that is dear. Nothing is seen as worthy of attachment, and so there can be nothing worthy of love or devotion. The threat of a life without anything meaningful or valuable, as Nietzsche points out, makes it seem unreasonable to fully adopt the Stoics’ approach.

To speak in more concrete terms, let us consider a romantic relationship. Remaining detached from one’s lover would certainly decrease the amount of pain experienced. One would be able to maintain his or her autonomy, for there would be little need to be afraid of displeasing one’s partner. Disagreements would no longer be so unsettling. If the relationship were to end it would not be devastating; it would be a loss that one could accept and move beyond.

Despite these benefits, however, detachment in a romantic relationship still does not seem wise. If one were to enter such a relationship without any commitment to it, the relationship would have little chance to grow. If one’s partner was not valued, the union could never offer the love, the sense of peace and security, or the support that would be possible with a partner to whom one was attached. A detached relationship simply cannot house the deep, burning joy that a relationship of rapture can provide. Certainly, detachment avoids pain - but in this case it seems that the costs for this protection are too high. As Nietzsche asserts, it appears here that passion is necessary if one is to have something in life that is truly valuable.

In reply to our question, ‘What, then, is the best means for achieving happiness?’, we have been presented with two very different answers, one by Epicurus, the Stoics, the Buddhists, and one by Nietzsche. Both answers, we now find, have truths in them that cannot be lightly cast aside. Thus, if we are to achieve the greatest happiness that we are capable of, we must devise a method for incorporating both contentment and passionate joy into our lives.

I suggest that our decision on when to employ Stoic detachment and when to employ Nietzschean passion ought to be based upon our estimation of the object in question. An end’s value or beauty in our eyes is the best determinant of whether that end merits the risks associated with a strong embrace. The Stoics have shown us that a strong attachment to that which is not valuable or beautiful to us is an unnecessary and unwise risk, an investment that offers little chance of return but great chance of loss. Nietzsche has shown us that a meaningful existence requires attachment to what we find beautiful. A detachment from what appealed so deeply to us would result in a bleak life, one which could offer us nothing worthwhile, nothing that merited our devotion or love. Thus it appears that the decision about when we ought to favour the advice of the Stoics and when we ought to favour that of Nietzsche can best be based upon our estimation of the value of the particular facet of life under consideration.

In order to accomplish this successfully, however, we must first have a solid understanding of what is most valuable to us. This question is certainly important enough and difficult enough to merit its own work. Here I will simply suggest some conclusions that I believe such a work would be likely to make. In Part I of this article, I argued that the ultimate end for humankind is happiness. Our current question about which ends are most valuable must be considered in this light. Those ends which will prove most valuable will be those which yield the most happiness. Due to the variety of personalities and tastes, I believe that this is to a large degree particular to the individual. That said, however, it certainly seems likely that there will be some activities and ends that are commonly found to be more rewarding than others.

I suspect that those who devote time to searching for an answer to this question through thoughtful introspection will find that monetary and physical possessions can at times produce very large pleasure and prevent extreme pain. However, I also suspect that there is a ‘point of comfort’ after which the returns of such possessions drop quite sharply. I would expect the difference to be quite significant between how much one will enjoy life if she is starving and how much she will enjoy life if she is well-nourished. Yet I would expect the difference to be much less between how much she will enjoy life driving a Ford and how much she will enjoy life driving a BMW - and even less between how much joy she would find in life with a BMW and how much she would find with a Porsche. After the necessary level of comfort has been achieved, the amount of happiness that increases in monetary and physical possessions can provide is relatively small.

I suspect that careful introspection will reveal that relationships with others are tied more closely than possessions to human happiness. Having healthy, supportive, and loving relationships with friends, families, and lovers will significantly increase one’s happiness, providing both pleasurable social interactions and a support to lean on in times of difficulty and pain. Furthermore, seeing oneself as part of a nourishing community can significantly relieve the ennui that so many experience in today’s society.

Having healthy self-esteem is another area that I expect many, after consideration, would find to be extremely important to their happiness. When one does not love one’s self it is difficult (perhaps impossible) to fully enjoy life. A good self-esteem in many ways functions as a prerequisite for a large portion of the other joys life has to offer, and thus its cultivation becomes quite important to our overall pursuit of happiness.

There are numerous other ends which I believe people will find play central roles in their own personal happiness. Among these are a sense of ‘belonging’, good physical health, and a sense of having a ‘greater purpose’. I wish to emphasize, however, that this discussion of the most rewarding of ends ought not to be interpreted as a proposal for a new model of the human psyche, or as an attempt at an airtight argument for the universal importance of these ends. Rather, my aim is to highlight that certain ends are commonly found to be more rewarding than others - and that there is often an incongruence between the list of ends we find most rewarding and the list of ends we most fervently pursue. This observation has been addressed in such depth in hopes of inspiring a careful and thoughtful review of past experiences and of self knowledge that can provide an understanding of which ends are the most rewarding - which ends in the final tally produce the most happiness - for each of us.

Once we have undergone such a process, we will then be in a position to accurately judge the value of the various aspects of our personal lives, and to adjust our activities accordingly. We will be in a position to remain detached from what is not valuable or rewarding, and to passionately attach ourselves to what is truly valuable. By following the wisdom of the Stoics in those areas which are not of the greatest value we will be able to reduce our pain, thus pursuing a contented happiness. And by following the wisdom of Nietzsche we will be able to devote ourselves to those ends that are most rewarding, thus pursuing a passionate and joyful happiness.

The key to gripping what we value tightly, and what we do not value loosely, is awareness. An understanding of what is valuable, and what is only useful, will enable one to maintain the proper orientation towards the tribulations and the rewards of life. It will allow each individual to take unimportant losses in stride, to quickly and easily step over the pitfalls of unnecessary sorrow that so many fall into. Yet it will still ensure a life filled with value and meaning, a life which can be lived confidently in the knowledge that it is dedicated to what is truly ‘good’. Certainly, it will entail pain, but one will be in the position to accept that pain with open arms, knowing that it was a wise risk - one without which life would have been meaningless and plain.

This article began with a theoretical exploration of happiness, clarifying the meaning of the term and arguing that when it is conceived of broadly happiness is humankind’s ultimate end. After having thus established the importance of happiness as a human pursuit, the article turned in its second portion to examine two competing perspectives on how humans can best achieve happiness. The Stoic pursuit of happiness as contentment, employing detachment to minimize pain, was contrasted against the fervent attachment that characterized Nietzsche’s passionate joy. When it was clearly seen that both schools of thought had much to offer, the article began to search for a way to combine the benefits of each. It argued that the Stoic approach could most wisely be employed in the areas of life that held less value, while the Nietzschean approach would fit best with those areas which held the greatest value. As such a divided method requires a clear understanding of what is most valuable, most beautiful, and most important, the last portion of the paper devoted itself to an examination of what ends are the most rewarding and yield the most happiness. The paper concluded by suggesting that each individual’s awareness, her understanding of what is most rewarding for her, is one of the most essentials tools for the pursuit of a happy life - clear comprehension of what is of most value enables one to avoid unnecessary pain by detaching from unimportant ends, while at the same time pursuing a meaningful and rewarding life by devoting oneself passionately to that which is most valuable and beautiful.

Aristotle (1995) ‘Nicomachean Ethics’ Readings in Ancient Greek Philosophy. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.

Freud, S. (1989) ‘Civilization and Its Discontents’, in The Freud Reader (Peter Gay ed.). New York : W. W. Norton and Company.

Goethe, J. W. (1963) Faust (Translated by Walter Kaufmann). New York: Anchor Books.

Long, A. A. (1986) Hellenistic Philosophy. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Mill, J. S. (1962) Utilitarianism and Other Writings. Cleveland : The World Publishing Company.

Plato (1995) ‘Gorgias’ in Readings in Ancient Greek Philosophy. Indianapolis : Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.

Shane Walton (shane_of_all_people@hotmail.com) was born in the mountains of Utah, raised in the farmlands of Pennsylvania, and wrote this article at Alfred University, in the hinterland of western New York. He now lives in Korea and teaches at Changwon University.

[1] Though the term which Aristotle employed - eudaimonia - is most closely translated as ‘happiness’, the word held a certain meaning for him which the term ‘happiness’ does not connote today. Eudaimonia could also be translated as ‘flourishing’ or ‘living well’, and unlike happiness cannot be used to refer to fleeting feelings of pleasure. However, as this paper argues for an enlarged understanding of the term ‘happiness’, I believe that it can validly, and constructively, make use of Aristotelian texts.

[2] As G. E. Moore pointed out in Principia Ethica, ‘Mill is using the words ‘desirable’ or ‘desirable as an end’ as absolutely and precisely equivalent to the words ‘good as an end’’(65). This criticism is well placed, and his conclusion that it undermines the strength of the work is also just. Certainly, ‘Mill tells us that we ought to desire something (an ethical proposition), because we actually do desire it … The whole object of Mill’s book is to help us to discover what we ought to do; but, in fact, by attempting to define the meaning of this ‘ought’, he has completely debarred himself from ever fulfilling that object: he has confined himself to telling us what we do do’(73). However, I am not concerning myself with Mill’s ethical propositions. I am addressing what we do desire, and not what we ought to desire. Moore’s objections to the ethical thesis of Utilitarianism do not touch the portion of Mill’s thought employed in this paper, and consequently do not decrease its strength.

[3] I am aware that such a brief and experientially-based argument may not convince all readers that happiness is indeed man’s ultimate end. However, those who remain unconvinced that happiness is the ultimate end will surely agree that happiness is an important end for humankind. In this light, the ensuing discussion of how happiness may best be pursued will still prove quite valuable. So it is in this frame of mind that I ask such readers to continue.

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