I see Smith’s chapter 7 as series of variations on the theme of the competing demands of duty and desire. If, as Smith writes, “individual freedom is what makes life worth living,” (77) then does the freedom to do what you want to do (play hooky) and not what you have to do (work) determine whether the results are sweet or bitter? This is the key question for me, because doing your duty, however willingly, doesn’t produce the level of happiness that following your heart’s desire does. Case in point. Going to work is rarely as fun and going golfing or fishing, even if you like your job. My moral read on the difference between acting out of duty or out of desire has a lot to do with a principle I came up with after reading this quote from Hemingway: “You can always tell whether you did good or bad today by how you feel tomorrow morning.”
I expanded that notion into what I ended up calling the Bitter-Sweet Principle. Doing good, whatever that might be, is almost always hard (bitter) on the front end and sweet on the back end. Doing good makes you feel good in the end, even though it was hard at the start, because there seems to be some element of self-sacrifice in every good deed (giving of yourself for a higher end), like visiting a lonely, little old lady when you would much rather go to a movie. An interesting thing about this sequence is that the sweet back end fills us with a desire to do it again, for the emotional payoff, creating a good (rather than vicious) cycle that leads to ever greater bitter sacrifices followed by ever sweeter payoffs.
On the other hand, doing bad works in reverse. It is sweet (desirable) on the front end (if it weren’t enticing, who would do it?) but, because of our conscience, it leaves a bitter after taste (we feel bad when we do bad). Maybe we could call this the “Hangover Principle.” In a reverse parallel to the dynamics of doing good (it benefits others), bad deeds hurt others, which is one of Smith’s main points early in the chapter. So we have two factors that keep us from playing hooky: our conscience (we want to avoid guilt) and our altruism (we don’t want to hurt others). Traditionally in history, social contracts require that individual freedom of self-expression mustn’t threaten another’s freedom and happiness. I’m also intrigued by Smith’s focus on the end result: happiness. This brings me to an inescapable conclusion about duty and desire. The more we follow duty to get to its sweet end, the greater our capacity to give of ourselves, even until it not only hurts but may even kill us. I think of the heroic “first responders” on 9/11 who, with barely a hesitant thought of putting their own lives in jeopardy, rushed into the trade towers to save others from annihilation. That’s one of the highest forms of self-expression because it is grounded in self-sacrifice.
In the context of Jesus’ teachings, this pattern creates a paradox at the apex of this path to greater and greater self-sacrifice for the sake of others. It is best captured in His saying: “He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt 10:39) Smith even uses the Savior’s favorite metaphor—“to bring the lost sheep back to the fold.” (84) Doing that successfully ensures the greatest freedom of all and creates the greatest paradox: the greatest personal freedom grows from the greatest devotion and obedience to God’s work.
Smith is right. Freedom without discipline “is not good for your health.” (84) But it can be a lot of fun, as both Smith and Annie suggest, which is one of the values of this chapter for me. To let go of duty and even desire and become, like my wife is naturally, more aware of the small and grand pleasures that lurk around every corner, “drifting from the norm and inventing possibilities you might otherwise. . . become inured to” (86) by unlocking “this playful, childlike self that’s more akin to the adventurer you always wanted to be.” (87)
