Work is the only route to happiness.

The ideal put forward to young people has, traditionally, been ‘mens sana in corpore sano’, and this implies a proper balance between work and play. Yet to achieve happiness, that coveted but elusive state of total fulfillment, requires more. It is true that mankind in general, though with exceptions, has a built-in instinct for work. The vast gulf separating humanity from its physical origins, the animal world, is due to millennia of cerebral and physical activity. Yet there are other equally powerful instincts in human make-up. The desire, in most cases, to form life-long emotional attachments; the instinct, again in most cases, to start a family; the making of friendships; the search for a fulfilling occupation, to name the most obvious.

In some countries, there are privileged few who are born into possessions, money, and position, so the need to work in the normal sense does not apply to them. Yet it is noticeable that these people generally find some worthwhile occupation. This may be anything from estate management to the patronage of some charitable institution to participate in the pop scene. This again indicates that to follow some kind of occupation, whether useful or not, is a genuine instinct.

History supports this view, and literature has produced many sayings expressing the value, perhaps the necessity of work. ‘Satan hath some mischief yet for idle hands to do’; ‘our best friend is work’ (Collin d’Harleville); ‘to youth I have but three words of counsel – work, work, work’ (Bismarck); ‘sow work and thou shalt reap gladness’ (Proverb); ‘work won’t kill but worry will’ (Proverb).

For most of us, work is both a necessity and a source of fulfillment. We need a regular income, just as our country needs part of the wealth we create and claims through taxation. The fulfillment of the instincts mentioned in Paragraph 1 cannot be achieved without money. The right use of money is of course important; Charles Dickens made the point that to live sixpence below one’s income-led to happiness; to live sixpence above led to misery.

The definition of work is wide, ranging from manual labor to the highest forms of intellectual activity. We are not all suited to every kind of work. I would be of little use as a manual worker since my skills in that direction are limited. Conversely, not all manual workers could do my work. Among other things, I write a little. I was once asked ‘What motivates you to write?’, the questioner expecting some highfalutin answer. I was tempted to answer ‘Money!’ In fact, the best writers have all taken this view. Only the second rate prattle about artistic fulfillment.

So, the worthwhile student spends his or her early years developing the skills which will lead to gainful employment; not to amass money for its own sake, but for what money can do. As life goes on, money becomes less important, though at any stage it only assumes importance when one has too little of it.

Realistically, during the current worldwide trade recession, the sad problem many people have to face is unemployment or redundancy. One hopes that this will soon pass. Some countries have training and re-training schemes to prepare their work-forces for the end of the recession. The fact that lack of work is so frustrating highlights the motivations for work already mentioned.

In any discussion of work, its dangers must not be overlooked. It is possible to be so obsessed with work that other highly important human considerations are neglected, with disastrous results. The workaholic neglects his or her family. This may lead to separation, divorce, and or problems with growing children, not to mention damage to human relations generally. Trollope had a character, the Duke of Omnium. He was a most worthy and honorable character, became Prime Minister, worked indefatigably for the parliamentary acceptance of decimal coinage. His wife and family, all admirably provided for, let him down consistently in various ways. His human sympathies had atrophied.

The love of money, work’s product, may become even more dangerous. Charles Dicken’s character, Scrooge, is an example. Another is Silas Marner, who did not reform his outlook until his store of gold coins had been stolen, and until he was confronted with the human need to bring up a small child.

So in general terms, the topic-statement has to be supported, but with all the provisos mentioned. Like any other human instinct, its expression must be wisely handled.