Can't Get No Satisfaction

Sunday's New York Times carries a piece "Companions in Misery" by a professor of philosophy, Mariana Alessandri, which is one of those occasional exercises in thought capable of redeeming the value of philosophy in every day life.

Reacting to a study which found New York City "the unhappiest city in America," she  questions the survey which formed the basis for this conclusion , a survey which asked about people's "satisfaction" not about their "happiness."  What the professor suggested is these are not at all the same, and in fact people can be quite dissatisfied and quite happy at the same time.

The reason, presumably, this CDC study got so much attention is it confirmed the widespread belief, primarily among people who do not live in New York and who know it only from "Sex in the City" or "Midnight Cowboy" that New Yorkers lead unhappy lives.

But, the fact is, the Phantom has met many ex patriot New Yorkers who were profoundly depressed--unhappy--because they had been forced to leave New York to take a job, or because of marriage or other factors, and they missed New York intensely.  Of course, many of these transplants were living in Washington, D.C., which can be a place which can foster homesickness. 

Professor Alessandri quotes John Stuart Mill, "a person can be satisfied by giving the body what it craves, but ...human happiness also involves motivating the intellect."  the Phantom generally hate the academic's obligation to cite some centuries old work to show we are only experiencing now what has long been part of the human condition, and mostly, to show she has read John Stuart Mill.  But she makes it work with the observation that "This means that happiness and satisfaction will sometimes conflict, and that those of us who seek happiness and even attain it, may still be dissatisfied."  As Mill says, "It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied, better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. "

This made the Phantom think back on his 8 years in New York City and, being profoundly superficial, the Phantom tried to bring all this down to his own insignificant experience, his formative years, there.  He remembers New York as a tumultuous, frustrating, wonderful time. He made his best friends there, and lots of them. Except for the people who were born and raised in New York, all his friends who lived there felt it was a great accomplishment just to wake up in the morning and to be able to walk out on the streets and become part of that energy and dynamism which was the city.

And this brought to mind a conversation the Phantom had with a good friend, a nurse named Kathleen, who came from Kansas, which she felt fortunate to have escaped. She lived in an airy one room apartment with huge windows near the Village and she wanted to live in New York the rest of her life.  We were talking about a nurse we both knew who was married to an orthopedic resident. He was a local heart throb at the hospital. He had played football at Princeton, was tall, blonde, good looking, and as most orthopedic residents, supremely self confident. She was having an affair with a medical resident the Phantom knew, who was a nice guy, humble, funny, but not in the demi god category. 
"Why would she do that?" the Phantom asked. "What more could she want?"
Kathleen looked at the Phantom, incredulously, one of those how-dense-can-you-be looks. "Nobody's satisfied," Kathleen said, almost embarrassed to have to say something so obvious.
"You mean nobody, anywhere?" the Phantom said. Thinking back to the sunlit lawns of his suburban youth, to the young parents, getting their first homes and cars after the Second World war, raising tow headed families, going on vacations, going to little league baseball and soccer games, the Phantom objected. "I know people who were satisfied. Are satisfied still, probably."
"Who?" Kathleen asked. 
"Lots of people, back in Bethesda."
"That," she said, "Is why they are back in Bethesda. If they were seekers, they'd be here, in New York."

Professor Alessandri observes that in Texas, where she teaches, she is told to not complain, to "'look on the bright side' of rotten things." Many people, she notes, think complaining "won't get you anywhere." She argues complaining may in fact make you feel better, and practically speaking, may be a good thing. "Two strangers complaining on a subway platform can end up cracking a smile or laughing, and though it would hardly be considered the beginning of a lifelong friendship, it is still neighborly."

True that, the Phantom has to say. How many times a quick exchange in a subway or on the street or waiting on line was a nice moment. We are suffering together and we feel the same way about that obnoxious person we both have to contend with. It was one of the things which made New York so much fun--the brotherhood of the anonymous sufferers.