Rethinking Human Value Beyond Wealth

I was surprised to realize I had never read The Great Gatsby until last week. The 1925 novel is almost a required reading for high schoolers across the US and is consistently deemed one of the greatest American novels ever written. A recent article in the Economist extolling the relevance of the novel's overarching theme on the permanence of class differences and the meaninglessness of wealth finally piqued my curiosity enough for me to pick up the book and finish it in two days. Let's call it a belated gift to my high school self. 

As I reach the end of the last page, I realize how many past criticisms of the book, such as its too simplistic plot and idealistic narrative, miss the point about the author's purpose. The story is simple: a nobody becomes rich off bootlegging and tries to rekindle an old flame with a rich woman by acting as a New York socialite, only to be quickly forgotten after he is murdered. That simplicity leaves the reader convinced that wealth may bring jealousy, fame, and love, but ultimately, all that is ephemeral. When the person is gone, everyone will quickly move on to the next rich person to network with.

In a time and age when society often associates incredible wealth with incredible intelligence, capabilities, and success, Gatsby's plight gives us time to rethink how to define a person's value. If a wealthy person is forgotten as soon as he dies, even though he has been almost irreplaceable in the public consciousness for years beforehand, then what value is wealth? More specifically, for those seeking to leave behind a legacy that persists after mortality, what can be a better store of value than the billions of dollars that come with professional development?

Many people have their answers. Some build lasting technologies and businesses that last beyond their lifetimes. However, a piece of technology eventually becomes obsolete as innovation moves forward, bringing down the businesses that are underpinned by the technology. Some people see legacy more biologically, leaving behind their genes through a large number of children that they then proceed to educate into shining examples of professional success. Yet there is no guarantee that the children will follow the path of the parents, much less see the parents as professional role models.

I had always been part of a third camp, who thought to leave behind ideas as a legacy. Years of writing this blog and articles published in various online news and editorial outlets built up a portfolio that can be searched through and cited by posterity. Many researchers and journalists toil in obscurity and often poverty for years and decades, with the pride, passion, and dedication to finding and publishing new stories and ideas that find global resonance and lead to paradigm shifts in how people think and provide ideological ammunition to social evolutions and revolutions.

The vast majority of the third camp will finish as they start: anonymous except in their tiny professional circles, their ideas obscure during their lifetimes and afterward. Indeed, their passion for theoretical innovation ultimately cannot beat the need for sufficient monetary compensation for survival. Many will continue to write for fun, as I do, but make money doing jobs that diverge from their true interests. Wealth will not leave a legacy behind in life, but during life itself, wealth is still very much valued as a tool for survival.

Pride, however, prevents a proper and unbiased exploration of wealth. In recent days exploring side hustle options to boost my income, I am constantly bothered by the thought that certain types of work are beneath my personal value, often simply because the amount of money being paid is too little for the hustle and repetitiveness, not to mention the need to toil in anonymity for wealthy service providers and clients. Despite my resonance with the ephemeral nature of wealth that The Great Gatsby illustrates, I, and of course, many others, have no choice but to think in financial terms.

As I scroll through one side hustle after the other, shaking my head at what I have to do to earn the chump change on offer, I sit back and wonder whether we will truly be able to define a person's value beyond the amount of money earned. Gatsby thought that money could buy him more than just nice meals, cars, and houses. It was instead an entry ticket to a higher society of rich friends and social respect. Yet the harder he worked to attain that respect from others, the more he found himself isolated as others belittled his effort. Can any of us escape this fate?