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by Reza S. Saghir

My favorite book has always been A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. This work has an element of self-reinvention that I find attractive. Few themes are as interesting for me as the theme of a man or a woman, by strength of will, changing his or her stars and defying the convoluted schemes of the Fates. In this regard, I feel a special appreciation for Charles Dickens’ work because Ebenezer Scrooge is not reinventing himself for the sake of material gain; the sole purpose of Scrooge’s transformation is redemption. Dickens constructs a dichotomy in Scrooge’s situation that is unrivalled among literary characters. Ebenezer Scrooge is a man whose driving motivation is to cultivate affluence and wealth, yet these seemingly beneficial things are what cause him to lose his humanity and suffer boundless misery and loneliness. As such, the story of Scrooge is a paradox in kind, where the striving for money and the attainment of happiness are not synchronous.

Perhaps the reason that I feel so drawn to the character of Ebenezer Scrooge is that I also suffer greatly from this paradox. I stand at the forefront of those about to join the Investment Banking workforce; security and power are the guaranteed welcome mats. However, I cannot help but ponder all the personal sacrifice that this entry shall entail. The hundred-hour workweeks and the burgeoning pressure from superiors will make it all but impossible for me to foster a family or retain any semblance of a social life. Thus, as for Robert Frost, two paths have converged in the woods for me, and I need to choose the one that I shall travel by. To help guide me in this reconciliation between the personal and the professional, I am visited by my own respective literary ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.

I.

The ghost of Christmas past arrives to me in the guise of Karl Marx. A short, stocky German man with a thick beard and ruddy eyes, he takes me back to nineteenth century Belgium at the onset of the Industrial Revolution. I view workers toiling over produce that is ultimately taxed out of their hands. I witness the extent to which man is degraded as I look upon the rampant cannibalism caused by the extreme disparity between poverty and wealth. As I struggle to grasp the reasoning behind these sights, Marx explains:

The worker becomes poorer the more wealth he produces, the more his production increases in power and extent. The worker becomes an ever cheaper commodity the more commodities he produces. The devaluation of the human world grows in direct proportion to the increase in value of the world of things. Labor not only produces commodities; it also produces itself and the workers as a commodity and it does so in the same proportion in which it produces commodities in general. (33)

Apparently, as the Belgian workers increased in their value as laborers producing a desired commodity, they decreased in their value as human beings. Although I find it rather difficult to relate entirely to the plight of the Belgian laborers because the benefits of my possible vocation are wealth and security, I am intrigued by Marx’s allusion to the non-material value of men.

This idea prompts me to inquire as to where the true value of human beings lies, if that value is in direct contrast to the commodities that humans create. Marx accepts the challenge:

Man is a species-being, not only because he practically and theoretically makes the species—both his own and those of other things—his object, but also—and this is simply another way of saying the same thing—because he looks upon himself as the present, living species, because he looks upon himself as a universal and therefore free being. (36)

Marx’s response strikes me as unsatisfactory. I infer that species-being is the quality or characteristic that defines a species’ natural purpose, but I desire to understand the specific characteristic of man’s species-being that gives him his true value. Marx seems to recognize my interest and goes on to say, “The whole character of a species, its species-character, resides in the nature of its life activity, and free conscious activity constitutes the species-character of man” (36). In order to emphasize his point that man’s true value is his consciousness, his ability to understand, Marx shows me a strike between owners and factory workers. I observe a crowd of picketers degenerate into an angry rioting mob. Clubs find their way into the audience as rioters and guards bludgeon themselves to death. Marx clarifies for me:

An immediate consequence of man’s estrangement from the product of his labor, his life activity, his species-being, is the estrangement of man from man. When man confronts himself, he also confronts other men. What is true of man’s relationship to his labor, to the product of his labor, and to himself, is also true of his relationship to other men, and to the labor and the object of the labor of other men. (37)

Here Karl Marx vanishes into his immortal Valhalla,Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, leaving me to wonder about the dire consequences of ignoring my own natural value as a human being and sacrificing myself to produce a commodity that ultimately estranges me from my fellow man.

II.

While still considering the ideas Karl Marx has imparted, the ghost of Christmas present suddenly appears in the semblance of Paul Tillich. A tall, slender man with unruly flowing hair and a triangular face, he takes me to a local construction site. There I see workers enduring the blazing heat of day in order to repair potholes in the road. Their physical trials are noticeably intense; however, there is an aura about them that is uniquely different from the Belgians. The laborers decide to take a lunch break together, and over a small set of pre-packaged sandwiches discuss each other’s days, families, and plans for the evening. At this point, I recognize the unmistakable aura that separates them from the Belgians: contentment.

Tillich verbalizes my internal thoughts:

Man as the completely centered being or as a person can participate in everything, but he participates through that section of the world which makes him a person. Only in the continuous encounter with other persons does the person become and remain a person. (247)

This idea unsettles the long-established notion in my mind that a man is a person because he is an individual. I used to feel that a man’s sense of self, his personal ambitions and his separate lot and space in the world, are what make him a realized person. Tillich responds to my assertion: “The courage to be as a part is an integral element of the courage to be as oneself, and the courage to be as oneself is an integral element of the courage to be as a part” (247). Ultimately, I suppose, both the recognition of one’s separation or difference from other persons and one’s simultaneous participation with others are necessary for the maintenance of the self.

To deepen my understanding of the concept of participation with other persons, I question Tillich as to the nature of the locale in which people participate with other people. Tillich responds: “The section of reality in which one participates immediately is the community to which one belongs. Through it and only through it participation in the world as a whole and in all its parts is mediated” (248). Upon this note, Tillich whisks me to an enclosed office space in some corporate hive. Sitting at a desk with only a single computer monitor, surrounded by walls, is a white-collared company man. His tasks do not seem to be physically tiring, yet the weary look upon his face indicates a more taxing exhaustion. The very sight of this man sends a chilling fear down my spine, a fear that signals caution with regard to my own fate. I try to understand the motives for this terror when Tillich makes them plain, “We are threatened not only with losing our individual selves but also with losing our participation in our world” (246). Tillich’s words ring true as I realize that aside from a separate recognition of self, men and women also define themselves as a part of a greater society. And, this greater happiness is maintained by constant interaction and participation with others.

Paul Tillich then disappears back into his hallowed The Courage To Be, leaving me to reminisce over Marx’s words warning of estranged labor and alienation of man from man. My mind drifts back to the rioting crowd of laborers that Marx had shown me, and I reconsider my conclusions about their motivation. Initially, I had focused solely on the estrangement from one’s species-being as the primary factor in inciting strife and discontent; I did not place much emphasis on the significance of man’s contact and participation with others. However, I am now beginning to become aware of the inseparability of species-being and participation with others. Participation in community and interactions with others are both a quality and a requirement of man’s species-being. The examples of labor that both Marx and Tillich had shown depicted the utter loss of self, and the misery and melancholy that is bound to ensue when professions inhibit meaningful contact and relationships with others.

III.

Thoroughly unnerved by the sights that Karl Marx and Paul Tillich have shown me, I am startled by the arrival of Erving Goffman as the ghost of Christmas future. Goffman’s appearance is plain and conservative, yet his deep-set eyes indicate possession of an unconventional knowledge. The scenery around me transforms as Goffman brings me to a period ten years in the future. There I look upon my own self as an investment banker, sitting in a standard white cubicle, constructing forecasting models on the computer. My future-self has the same haggard, weary look in his eyes that I saw in the eyes of Tillich’s man. A vice president passes by and my future-self’s whole attitude undergoes a metamorphosis. Cheery-eyed and upbeat, he congratulates the man for successfully capturing the GE deal from the competition; then, in a professional tone of voice, he assures the vice president that the forecasting model is complete and will be delivered to his desk within the hour. As the executive departs, my future-self returns to his desk with a stressfully panicked look on his face. Goffman reveals me to myself: “The individual does of course intentionally convey misinformation by means of both types of communication, the first involving deceit, the second feigning” (182).

Intentional misinformation seems pointless to me, and I ask Goffman to make clear the reasons for such misinformation. He further explains:

In those interactions where the individual presents a product to others, he will tend to show them only the end product, and they will be led into judging him on the basis of something that has been finished, polished, and packaged. In some cases, if very little effort was actually required to complete the object, this fact will be concealed. In other cases, it will be the long tedious hours of lonely labor that will be hidden. (184)

I question Goffman as to how two people can develop any relationship of substance and trust when one of those people is intentionally conveying misinformation to the other. Goffman simply concludes:

As both effect and enabling cause this kind of commitment to the part one is performing, we find that ‘audience segregation’ occurs; by audience segregation the individual ensures that those before whom he plays one of his parts will not be the same individuals before whom he plays a different part in another setting. (189)

I am shocked by Goffman’s response. Karl Marx and Paul Tillich had demonstrated that relationships and participation with others are critical to the maintenance of the self and the preservation of one’s psychological well-being. The ominous “audience segregation” that Goffman is discussing seems to me to be ill fated for the performer.

Goffman proves my supposition by taking me to my future-self’s apartment to illustrate the effects of audience segregation. There, at a completely vacant urban apartment, I view my future-self entering through the front door. He places his keys on the coffee table along with a thick black stapler and wallet. Then he journeys into his bedroom and passes out on the sheets, clothed and alone. On awaking he takes a more investigative look at the stapler on his home desk and determines that he had seen it before on the desk of the vice president. Goffman intrudes again:

A surprising number of workers seem to justify their jobs to themselves by the tools that can be stolen, or the food supplies that can be resold, or the traveling that can be enjoyed on company time, or the propaganda that can be distributed, or the contacts that can be made and properly influenced, etc. In all such cases, place of work and official activity come to be a kind of shell which conceals the spirited life of the performer. (183)

Goffman’s words shed light on the reasoning behind my future-self’s office equipment theft. A person who has sacrificed his or her personal connections and relationships with others will ultimately seek out some avenue of activity to justify the loss. This avenue can be stolen items, traveling, or excessively large expenses depending on the personality of the individual. In all such cases, labor and occupation obscure the person’s true social nature. He fails to understand the loss of connection trumpeted by Marx and Tillich and desperation follows as he muffles his natural human inclination for contact and participation with others.

As with his predecessors, Goffman suddenly disappears into his acclaimed work, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, leaving me unsettled but with a better understanding of where one of the paths in the woods will lead.

IV.

I am now back where I started, perhaps a little wiser and certainly more concerned about my reconciliation between the personal and the professional. My future-self had reminded me of a painting I once observed called Men in the City. In it, men are depicted as deformed and inhuman with indistinguishable facial features. Their bodies, arms, legs, etc. look like mechanical tools that conform in shape and color to the surrounding buildings, and the entire setting in the city seems chaotic and circus-like. I had always known that this painting satirizes the dehumanization of man in the corporate, capitalist world. But, I had never deeply worried about my own existence as a man in the city until the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future had shown me real-life examples of labor estrangement and dehumanization.

Needless to say, I have no desire to be one of the men in the city. If there is one grain of wisdom that I sift out of my encounters with the ghosts, it is that labor, when it blocks or stifles human interaction, causes men and women to be dehumanized. It has caused cannibalism and murder, it does cause unhappiness and discontentment, and it will cause manipulation, the promotion of self-interest, and estrangement from others. I am reminded again of the character of Ebenezer Scrooge because he is a man who needs to face his own inevitable mortality before he can develop human compassion. I believe that the moment Scrooge views his own engraved name on his tombstone he realizes a profound truth about life in general. Life can be seen as a striving for material gain and high status achieved through labor; or, life can be seen as a journey wherein labor facilitates perpetual relationships and contact with others. Scrooge himself realizes the futility of striving for wealth and allowing labor to undermine relationships when he sees that only his avaricious and greedy detractors care about his possessions. Shocked by the apparent lack of a personal legacy after his death, as by his death itself, Scrooge’s redemption depends on his diminished concern about material gain and his growing concern for others.

I recognize that another man or woman might look upon the money Investment Banking offers as a sufficient concession for the loss of a social life, but I shall avoid the necessity of redemption by choosing the professional path that allows me the ability to have and promote meaningful and life-sustaining relationships with others. Or at least, I hope that I will.

Works Cited

Dickens, Charles. A Christmas Carol. United Kingdom: Knowledge Masters, 1999. 14 Mar. 2003. <http://www.literature.org/authors/dickens-charles/christmas-carol/>

Goffman, Erving. “ ‘Introduction,’ ‘Performances,’ ‘Conclusion.’” Advanced College Essay: Business and Its Publics. Ed. Pat C. Hoy II and Denice Martone. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2002. 181-196.

Leger, Fernand. Men in the City. Peggy Guggenheim Collection. New York.

Marx, Karl. The Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. Colorado: CSF, 1993. 18 Mar. 2003. <http://csf.colorado.edu/psn/marx/Archive/1844-EPM/>.

Tillich, Paul. “Courage and Participation.” Advanced College Essay: Business and Its Publics. Ed. Pat C. Hoy II and Denice Martone. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2002. 243-250.

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