Understanding Happiness

During the first semester of my junior year, I attended The School of Ethics and Leadership (SEGL), a semester-based program encouraging high schoolers to explore the African continent. SEGL in Johannesburg is specifically based in Johannesburg, South Africa, where students stay on the African Leadership Academy (ALA) campus, a private boarding school located outside the urban areas of the city. Within the program, students partake in the class “Ethics and Leadership” to understand the fundamental philosophies behind making ethical decisions, along with developing interpersonal and intellectual leadership skills that last a lifetime. Throughout the program, I have come to explore the ethics behind my personal beliefs and values I have come to comprehend and understand.  In the following essay, I wanted to answer the question, “Why are my personal beliefs so important to me?” and “What have I learned throughout my experiences at Joburg?” Additionally, I wanted to share some insights and details about my general experience of the program to hopefully give a detailed explanation and recommendations for any reader interested in attending a semester-based program. 

In my freshman and sophomore years, I wanted to feel valued and loved. Just like other humans, I am a social creature who wants to belong. Thus, I have naturally adapted my behavior around altruism, which is the desire and the need to help others. I thought that altruism in and out of my classroom would help me engage in smoother interactions with my friends. There was one downfall, though: I occasionally sacrificed my money, time, and energy.

Throughout my semester, I have come to acknowledge and battle the ethical dilemma of my life: “Should I be a little selfish and love myself more than I do others? Or should I make sacrifices so that my unhappy self can make others happy?” These are questions that have haunted my relationships with the SEGL students in and outside the classroom, the boys in my residential hall (The Office), and the personal relationships with students in the African Leadership Academy’s communal society. These questions, along with ways to navigate the central theme of friendship, have circulated in my mind as I reflected on my growth as an individual and my journey to become the happiest person I could be. As noted in Ethics and Leadership, John Stuart Mill describes happiness as the supreme principle of morality, thus creating the Greatest Happiness Principle. The principle states three key points: the happiness of all people is considered equally, no person is more important than others, and promotes the greatest good for the greatest number of people. His ethical viewpoints made me ponder about my happiness, “What are the morally right actions to promote happiness for everyone, including myself?”

I have embarked on a journey to explore the definition of a life I truly wanted. I arrived at my initial answer at the beginning of the semester through a simple moment with a friend. 

I had just barged out of my class. I felt certain that I had failed my exam. Worried, I walked towards the student snack shop.

“Hey, Ryan,” someone said. I knew her.

As I greeted her back, she laughed and made an unexpected request: “Could I please have a chocolate bar? I would appreciate it.”

It was sudden, but her reaction did not surprise me. I wanted to say no.

“Please,” she insisted.

I hesitantly, without thinking, answered yes, and she thanked me and left.

While she was a good friend, she always asked me to buy her snacks, and I regretted saying yes almost immediately. I could not believe I was such a pushover, and she probably felt delighted at the moment.

My financial funds were low; I was in a bad mood from the rigorous demands of the day; and most importantly, I was secretly frustrated that my friend was taking me for granted. Still, I just could not say the word “no.” In retrospect, I believe the reason for saying yes is that I was scared that others would judge me poorly for speaking my thoughts and opinions. At the same time, I felt untrue to myself for silencing my thoughts for the sake of others. Therefore, in my ethical dilemma, I felt obligated to prioritize others’ needs over my own in protecting friendly relationships. While my selflessness helped build deeper connections with others, it also ended my chance at happiness. I eventually began to question whether trifle friendships were worth my sacrifices.

As I pondered on the true understanding of friendship, I had a meaningful conversation with an ALA student. Around mid-October, I felt homesick. I began to get fed up with the foreign food and my new classmates, and I missed my family dearly. As a result of being outside my comfort zone for over a month, I was on edge.

One Saturday morning, I sat in my room when an unexpected student barged in. I had never really spoken to this person before, and it felt infuriating to see a stranger walk into my room without knocking on the door.

“Hi, Ryan, do you have a few minutes to talk?” asked the student. 

I tried to reassure myself that this was not that big of a deal as I firmly replied, “Maybe. What do you want?”

“Are you good?” he calmly said.

The student calmly sat on the chair across from me. He seemed aloof, but his presence was so peaceful that I wanted to believe that he was a good listener. Then and there, I felt my eyes prickle as I cried and laughed ridiculously at the same time. Finally, I began to talk and could not stop. The moment felt surreal as I ranted about every single part of my homesickness.  

As he listened, he leaned in with a composed and collected expression. Only when I was done did he begin to speak. 

He pointed out that my frustration was rooted in my unhealthy, limited interactions with other ALA students. Even before our conversation, he had noticed that I was beginning to distance myself from others, thus resulting in a sense of homesickness.

“I’m sorry about ranting,” I told him eventually.

“Ryan, what is there to be sorry about? Why are you taking the blame for yourself?”

Another thing that he noticed was that I would say “sorry” even when I did nothing wrong. He urged me to become a better communicator and socializer and to stop being a people pleaser. 

“Ryan, let’s practice moments of discourse communication with each other, which I think could help you out greatly,” he said. 

He mentioned that the goal of the exercise would help me become a more assertive, respectful person. 

We began to talk about the ethical confrontations of the political world and whether nuclear weapons were ever justified. As we discussed, we both held contrary views. He believed that nuclear weapons should never be used, even if tensions escalated on the world stage. I held a different view that the use of nuclear weapons could be justified, especially in terms of national threat and security.

As we continued to talk, I learned to avoid derogatory language and calmly disagree when I opposed the other position. I would also notice myself listening actively. I learned to establish boundaries in my communication when he would also request me to further research my political opinions, which I calmly denied. Furthermore, I told him that I felt the research felt unnecessary and would take up my time. The point of this statement was that I communicated my limits. We would conclude the session with laughter and smiles, and he became a reliable friend at the African Leadership Academy. 

The moment in which I let my thoughts out to my friend reminds me of the English excerpt, Sh*tty First Draft, by Anne Lamott. In the draft, the author uses a humorous tone to portray the normalization of a “bad” draft. The author encourages the audience to realize that it is okay for authors to write with no structure and format, as writing all the ideas down is the crucial first step towards the navigated, restructured, and successful essay that eventually follows. (Lamott, 2). The excerpt’s message also overlaps with my discourse practices, in which I learned to better communicate my ideas and my limits respectfully and engagingly. Overall, I believe that I strengthened my socialization skills and answered the ethical dilemma: loving myself (and being honest with myself) is most important. If I love myself, other people love me too. Even when in a disagreement, honesty and love will make the relationship stronger.

I wanted to prove my beliefs in the ethical dilemma by refusing the girl who would ask me for snacks. The next time she asked for a snack, I would calmly learn to communicate my limits to her. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I can’t always give you a chocolate bar. I hope you understand.” I calmly remarked.

“No, please… I’m hungry, and I don’t have money,” she replied. 

“I’m sorry, but I clearly said no. I hope there are some snacks left in the dining hall or your room.”

In the end, she just shrugged. I made a good-natured joke that made both of us laugh off the moment.

Through this simple yet captivating moment, I felt proud that I was finally able to communicate my limits. I felt more confident about sharing my true thoughts and felt that I had improved socially. I felt motivated to commit to a new path of freedom, acknowledging my naive, insecure self and changing into a new sociable person who communicates their limits. I now feel confident to interact and engage with new friends, who have eventually helped me cope with my insecurity and homesickness. 

These three key moments represent the growth of my ethical values, selfhood, and friendship. I learned to find happiness with others by respecting myself. I believe that my understanding of discourse and communication limits has improved my skills in my area of interest: civic engagement, which is how individuals can become involved in their community to make a positive difference in the lives of fellow citizens. 

With my new profound skills, I feel more comfortable about speaking my honest thoughts with others. I can share my boundaries and limits with others without feeling insecure. Due to my growth in communication skills, I feel excited to return home and share this invaluable technique with my local community, especially students of my age. 

Over time, my experience at SEGL has shaped my communication skills with others. I have learned to communicate and be forthright about the limits I set for myself. I hope to continue to utilize this set of communication techniques with my community to guide a new generation of student leaders who think for themselves.

However, most importantly, as for the ethical dilemma that has troubled me lately, I have answers now. Loving myself can help me love others, and true altruism stems from the true desire for harmony.