Happiness and the Heart of Darkness

I’d like to begin with the following quotation from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics describing why humans need happiness: “Clearly there must be some such end since everything cannot be a means to something else since then there would be nothing for which we ultimately do anything, and everything would be pointless.” (*Note: Taken from a photocopied excerpt of Book 1 read in a former class – I could not find the translator or page number.) For Aristotle, “happiness” was more analogous to the idea of excellence, something achieved with intent, with purpose and habit – a lifelong way of living. The final four words from that quote always jump out at me – everything would be pointless if there were no happiness? Life, then, is inextricably bound to this idea of happiness, which explains the restlessness of our souls. But what happens if we never achieve this happiness? Is the mere journey towards it enough, or without the achievement, is life simply “pointless”?

There are some who argue that happiness is really an unachievable ideal, but zealously and tirelessly pursued anyway – this is the view of humanity that is illustrated in Joseph Conrad’s masterpiece, The Heart of Darkness. In the novel, the narrator Marlowe discovers knowledge about humanity that he would rather have kept locked away, far out of reach. In his exploration into the wild hearts of men, he discovers humanity to be, ultimately, hopelessly depraved. Without the societal constructs of law, religion, accountability, community, and guilt, men revert to their innate, bestial inclinations. It presents a very Hobbesian state of nature where life is merely nasty, brutish, and short. The “savages” are completely unalterable from their bestiality. However noble the attempts to convert, all attempts are futile. One line, in fact, from one “civilized” man to another, is that they need to “exterminate the brutes!” which is ironic when Marlowe later realizes that all are as equally brutish as the “savages” to whom he refers; there really is no “them” versus “us.” Though even with this being the true state, most people cannot handle the weight of such knowledge. Most people choose to live in the comfort of artificial light, either due to obliviousness or denial, and go on with their ultimately pointless lives.

Marlowe goes on the journey to see what knowledge he hopes Kurtz (discussed later on) can reveal to him, supernatural knowledge about the meaning of life that no one else can possess. It turns out to be very different knowledge than he expected. In the beginning of the journey, he catches glimpses of this unpleasant truth himself, but decides to submerge himself in mediocre tasks to keep his mind occupied elsewhere instead. (Compare this to why most humans fill their lives with innumerable meaningless tasks.) He ultimately discovers that there is no real light outside of the impenetrable darkness, only artificial, society-created light. Kurtz was the most devoutly religious, idealistic, moral, promising, etc. young man who became the most successful manager for the British ivory company; and he died as the most corrupt savage imaginable. If he can fall from the “light” to his natural, innate, brutish human character, no one is safe. As Kurtz lay dying, Marlowe realizes the purposeless that can become of a wasted life, and as he returns to London, he sees that the “civilized world” is filled with hypocrites who pretend not to know better, and are satisfied. This is especially embodied in the character of the Intended, Kurtz’s fiancé, who represents the bulk of humanity living in society. She is hopeful, incessantly and wishfully romantic, and completely naïve, yet somehow content. In the end Marlowe decides to lie to her about the true nature of Kurtz to keep her in this illusory, idyllic world, and keep her from knowing the truth; he decides it is better for society to carry on in their fictitious bustling lives. Only a few really come to grips with the truth – the nihilistic void in their hearts. Ought he have shared his knowledge of the true light that is, really, utter darkness, or was he right to keep the people content?

The life we live is the only one we are given, so obviously we want to make it the very best that we can. We all constantly strive to accomplish: we set plans, make goals, and see them through. There seems to be a constant unrest within our very core telling us to keep trying to improve, not to settle, not to grow too complacent. We want to be something more than what we are now, and to have more than we now have. We seem to be continually discontent. Our human condition drives this; we know our own finitude and knowledge of death can motivate us. We are incessantly driven towards “the better.” Maybe this is a little hubristic, our thinking we can really change things and that we are somehow perfectible. Yet no matter how many things we accumulate or tasks we accomplish, there seems to be some residual feeling of incompleteness, an enduring sense of emptiness, a longing for more, and the bitter sting of idividualistic isolationism. As Conrad writes, “We live as we dream – alone;” and again I’ll ask, when happiness seems unreachable, is life just “pointless”? Maybe all of this working, all the busyness with which we fill our lives is in an attempt to divert this sense of nihilism. If I keep working and attaining, all will not be for naught – I will matter.