What Does the ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ Mean?

What Does the ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ Mean?
“The Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776,” circa 1792, by John Trumbull. Oil on canvas, 20.9 inches by 31 inches. Trumbull Collection to 1832. Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven, Conn. (Public Domain)
Jeff Minick
6/24/2024
Updated:
6/24/2024
0:00

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Penned by Thomas Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence, this radical proclamation at first glance seems simple and straightforward. Most confusing of all, perhaps, is the “pursuit of happiness.”

The Meaning of Happiness

Some Americans today take literally the pursuit of happiness, chasing after it their whole lives with a butterfly net. They become a version of Scott Fitzgerald’s Jay Gatsby: “Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning—”

Others believe that happiness is tangible, embodied in a large income, a fine house, and a hot car. All too often, however, they attain these objects only to find their stardust desires have become dust in the wind.

In “The Meaning of ‘The Pursuit of Happiness,'” political science professor James Rogers quickly shoots down these interpretations. To the thinkers and statesmen of Jefferson’s day, happiness “meant prosperity or, perhaps better, well-being in the broader sense. It included the right to meet physical needs, but it also included a significant moral and religious dimension.” Mr. Rogers notes, for example, that the Massachusetts Constitution of 1780 declared that “the happiness of a people and the good order and preservation of civil government essentially depend upon piety, religion and morality.” As was the case with its cousin liberty, in the eyes of the Founding Fathers, happiness was a by-product of virtue.

‘Pursuit’

When we think of pursuit as only a chasing after some person or object—“The police pursued the thief into the alleyway”—we have restricted the meaning. Another definition of “pursuit” “suggests a trade, profession, or avocation followed with zeal or steady interest.” If we say, for example, that “John’s chief pursuit in his spare time was building Shaker-style furniture,” he is already engaged in this hobby.

In his essay, Mr. Rogers writes, “Arthur Schlesinger Sr. observed in an obscure book chapter that ‘pursuit’ has a particular meaning at the time of the Declaration. While less employed today, this secondary meeting nonetheless remains in use when referring, for example, to the pursuit of medicine, or the pursuit of lawyering, etc. In this sense ‘pursuit’ means occupation or practice. We might even think of it in the sense of vocation.”

It’s this practice of happiness as much as its pursuit that makes for a good life.

In the last seven years, I’ve interviewed for publication 50 or more men and women. Close to half of them were Catholic homeschooling moms, interviews I conducted while working for the Seton Home Study School. The rest ranged from a bestselling novelist to a self-made multimillionaire to Americans with far less money and prestige, but with a story to tell.

What all of these people had in common—and I say this unequivocally—was a Jeffersonian perception of the pursuit of happiness, though most of them, I suspect, had no idea they were in possession of such a vision. Yes, they all had dreams and goals, objectives they hoped to meet, but they were practicing the virtues that make for happiness while on this quest.

Mitch Albom, for instance, the author of such books as “Tuesdays with Morrie” and “The Five People You Meet in Heaven,” was actively involved with bringing help and hope to Haitian orphans. The busy moms were, as several of them told me, teaching their children at home “to help them get into heaven.” The Jewish parents who had fled with their toddler to escape the Nazi death camps raised her to love America, to follow her dreams and push herself hard to achieve them, but to practice kindness and generosity toward others while doing so.

These people were strangers to me. All around me, however, were, and are, family members and friends who, without an inkling of their pursuit of happiness, combine good and virtuous lives with their ambitions. Often they’re the quiet ones. They’re the moms and dads trying their best to raise good kids. They’re the people who get out of bed every morning and go to work and keep our country up and running. They’re the people who are founding new educational institutions across the nation, from classical academies to microschools to colleges. They’re the parents, grandparents, and mentors who coach sports teams, teach dance and music, and tutor students.

Like all these people, no doubt many of you readers are practicing the pursuit of happiness in the old-time sense of that phrase, again without even knowing it. And if you look around, you’ll discover others doing the same. In that pursuit there is hope for our country.

John Locke, the British philosopher who so heavily influenced men like Jefferson, once wrote, “The necessity of pursuing happiness (is) the foundation of liberty.” When you go after your dreams, all the while acting with virtue and honor, you embody in your very flesh and blood the pursuit of happiness and act as a guardian for the cause of liberty.

Jeff Minick has four children and a growing platoon of grandchildren. For 20 years, he taught history, literature, and Latin to seminars of homeschooling students in Asheville, N.C. He is the author of two novels, “Amanda Bell” and “Dust On Their Wings,” and two works of nonfiction, “Learning As I Go” and “Movies Make The Man.” Today, he lives and writes in Front Royal, Va.