What the Hell is the Meaning of Life? (revised 9/6/08)

By Marty Nemko

When I was a teenager, I thought money was the answer. So, I took after-school jobs, and tried to buy my way into contentment: clothes, nice car, fancy stereo. That didn’t do it.

Then I tried noble work—teaching in the inner city. But the problems those kids faced were so big, so multi-dimensional, that despite my trying hard, very hard, I felt I wasn’t making much difference.

Next, I tried prestige: got a Ph.D. from Berkeley, became a professor. But in my social science field, I often felt like an emperor with no clothes. So much social “science” is poorly substantiated, politically motivated theory. My students ate it up but I felt I was often feeding them ersatz food.

I’ve been trying the values route: focusing on what did I most value: work. To that end, I decided to be a career counselor. I believed that helping people find right livelihood would make my life feel meaningful. But now, 22 years and 2,900 clients later, despite a 96 percent client satisfaction rate and the San Francisco Bay Guardian naming me “The Bay Area’s Best Career Coach,” that sometimes feels empty too. Some of my work—helping people to make the most of their current job—feels good. That helps them live up to their potential, and, in turn, their employer to provide good products and services. But too often, my clients, especially those ostensibly wanting a career change, come away with a plan they’re excited about but fail to execute.

I particularly value meritocracy. I believe that more good accrues from ensuring a meritocracy than nearly anything else. 30 years ago that would have meant dismantling the ol’ white boy’s network. But today, the ol’ boy network has largely been replaced by the Diversity Industry, hell-bent on ensuring that women and minorities receive undeservedly positive treatment. I truly believe that any benefits of "leveling the playing field" are far outweighed by the disadvantages.

Here's just one of countless examples of reverse discrimination and double standards that I could cite: When women and minorities have a deficit--for example, the so-called underrepresentation of women in engineering--a massive redress effort is initiated. But if men have the deficit, even the ultimate deficit--they die 5 1/2 years younger and spend their last decade in worse health than women do--not only is there not redress, but over the past 50 years, the vast majority of gender-specific health research and outreach has been conducted on women. For example, a 50-year review of PubMed, which indexes the 3,000 major medical journals finds 40 articles on women's health for every one on men's. A review on charitynavigator.org finds vastly more charities focusing on women's health than on men's. Regarding outreach, think of all the breast cancer pink ribbons you've seen over the past decade. Millions more men die and die earlier of sudden heart attack (Think Tim Russert,) yet where are the ribbons for that?

The Diversity Industry is so powerful, it has shut off dissent. I have tried prodigiously to protest the rampant reverse discrimination against men and whites, to no avail. When I write politically correct letters to the editor, they’re routinely published yet when I write to protest reverse discrimination, my letters are always censored. I’ve had 500 articles and columns well published, yet when I write about reverse discrimination, the pieces are deemed unworthy of publication. I’ve written a screenplay on the topic, Affirmative Actions, which the London Daily News said was “Sure to trigger a bidding war” yet no film studio would touch it. My first five books, politically correct, have been published and critically and commercially successful, having sold over 200,000 copies. Yet, when I wrote what I believe is my best book, the politically incorrect The Silenced Majority, it was rejected by 28 of 28 publishers, told again and again that the book is excellent but that feminists on the publication board have or would quash it. Self-publishing isn't worth it--I'd get few readers but all the career-damaging media opprobrium. When I dared conclude that the effects of uncontrolled illegal immigration are a net negative, a computer programmer with a blog called "Anarchogeek" admitted to "googlebombing" me with the term "Marty Nemko is a Racist," so that if you google "Marty Nemko," that link appears near the top. That horribly untrue yet devastating libel has had untold effects on my career. So, I’ve been totally censored and censured--so much for living my values. Today, it seems that’s permissible only when your values are politically correct. I worry about a society that censors and censures benevolently derived thought that doesn't conform to the orthodoxy. Censorship from the Right hurt us in the McCarthy era. I believe it's hurting us even more from the Left today.

Many people find the meaning of life through relationships. While I have a good marriage, I’m not sure the meaning of life, at least for me, fully resides there. And my only child, who is an ardent feminist, limits her conversation with me to pleasantries, in large measure because of my views on reverse discrimination and related matters. So, I won’t, as so many parents do, find enough of life’s meaning through my family.

Many other people find the meaning of life in religious faith. But I can’t find meaning in a God that would, for example, allow literally billions of people to die of cancer, an often horrifically painful disease. Books like Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion and Christopher Hitchens' God is Not Great provide many additional sound arguments that that there is no God worth praying to. I'm unalterably convinced.

Is that all there is? I'm now 58, with signs of aging starting to creep in (for example, a pot belly is emerging despite continuing to exercise vigorously while eating less) that remind me that the coming decade may well be my last substantially productive one. I want to live as meaningful life as possible in the time I have left. How the hell do I do it?

Here’s my current thinking, subject to revision. It comes down to spending as much time as possible using my best skills (writing and speaking) to make a difference in something I care about that few others do.

My current choices are to encourage an honest discussion of race in America, especially race in the workplace. I'm also eager to try to improve undergraduate education (It deserves much more scrutiny), and to improve the education of boys and young men, because the Feminist Machine is less likely to shut that down, mainly because even man-hating feminists have sons they love. Finally, I want to shine light on the fact that the public elementary schools focus so much on low achievers that high-ability students often sit stultified, their potential unrealized, and too often put on a Ritalin leash when they can't cope with the boredom.

Alas, although I'm still plugging away on all those fronts, I'm finding that for the first time in my life, I'm lacking the powerful drive it takes to significantly advance an unpopular cause.

So, my newfound lazier side is wondering if I should reduce my efforts to enhance the meaning of my life to just being nice to everyone possible. So, I give lots of heartfelt praise, make rich conversations with the Trader Joe's checkers, give free advice to strangers who email me, buy a casual friend an unnecessary gift, etc. I don't expect anything in return--I rarely get it. I try to take pleasure in the giving itself. That approach to life ensures I do some good, it doesn’t require Herculean effort, and I feel good no matter how other people respond. Oh, and I do get true pleasure from loving my sweet dog, Einstein, whom I got from the pound, perhaps saving his life.

At the end of a previous version of this article, I asked, "But is that all there is? Any suggestions?" I got one email from a person who said I needed psychiatric help and shouldn't be allowed to publish any more in the Chronicle of Higher Education, where I recently completed a stint as their Guest Blogger. Fortunately, I've also received over 100 kind emails, none offering new suggestions, but all reminding me that there are many good people out there. And that, in itself, makes my continuing 80-hour workweeks feel more worthwhile. Thank you all.