Dwight: Aiko, you and I have just wrapped up our exploration of one of the core ideas in The New Ethics of Integrity, which states that a person's primary responsibility is to take care of themselves. Now, I'd like to dive into another core premise with you as the devil's advocate. Is that alright?

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Aiko: Sure, Dwight! I'm ready to challenge the next fundamental premise. What’s the new concept you're proposing?

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Dwight: The next premise is a factual statement: everyone's ultimate purpose in life is to seek happiness and avoid unhappiness.

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Aiko: That’s a bold claim, Dwight. But is happiness really everyone's ultimate goal, or could there be higher purposes—like fulfillment through sacrifice or service—that might outweigh individual happiness? Would you say people who endure pain for a cause or belief are misguided in your view?

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Dwight: I define happiness in the broadest possible sense. It encompasses physical pleasure, comfort, fulfillment, and even a deep sense of connection with others.

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Aiko: Expanding the definition helps, but doesn't this still assume that all meaningful human experiences are reducible to happiness? What about people who endure long-term suffering for the sake of values, like truth or justice, that may never lead to pleasure or comfort? Are they simply misinterpreting their own purpose?

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Dwight: If someone chooses to endure long-term suffering, it would still be because they believe it will ultimately lead to feeling good about themselves or result in greater happiness down the line.

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Aiko: But what about those who endure suffering knowing they may never personally benefit, like whistleblowers or activists who sacrifice their well-being for a cause? Can we really say their motivation is future happiness, or are they driven by principles that they value more than personal contentment?

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Dwight: These individuals have tied their ego to being seen as good or admired for doing the "right thing," and they may also be driven by a desire to avoid feeling guilty for neglecting their principles.

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Aiko: That explanation suggests even moral acts are fundamentally selfish, aimed at preserving self-image or avoiding guilt. But doesn't this reduce every action to a personal benefit framework, even when the person genuinely seeks to detach from their own interests? What about selfless acts of compassion where personal gain isn’t apparent?

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Dwight: People may try to detach from their self-interest, but it’s driven by the belief that this is morally good, along with a desire to be seen as good by others or by God.

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Aiko: If even detachment from self-interest is motivated by wanting approval or divine favor, then is there truly such a thing as selflessness? By this logic, aren't all actions—even those done for spiritual or ethical reasons—just another way of pursuing personal validation or inner satisfaction?

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Dwight: Exactly, and this is my thesis: at the core of all human behavior is the intention to move toward happiness (in the broadest sense) and away from unhappiness. Even a person contemplating suicide believes death will bring less pain than life.

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Aiko: Your argument is consistent, but it implies that all actions—no matter how tragic or extreme—are driven by a calculated pursuit of some form of happiness or relief. But could this be an oversimplification? Aren't there instances where people act irrationally, not out of a desire for happiness but out of pure impulse or mental illness, where the concept of happiness becomes secondary or even irrelevant?

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Dwight: I’m focusing on intentions here. Whether the behavior actually achieves the desired results is irrelevant to the intention behind it.

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Aiko: Fair point—intentions and outcomes aren’t always aligned. But even with intentions, how do we account for cases where people act with no clear rational thought, such as in extreme distress or psychosis? Can we still say they’re seeking happiness, or might they lack coherent intentions altogether?

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Dwight: Of course, from an outside perspective, we can easily see that their actions aren’t leading to the results they might prefer. But that doesn’t change their intent, given how the world appears to them, even if it’s irrational.

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Aiko: That’s an important distinction—intentions based on a distorted or irrational perception of reality are still intentions. But if intent is shaped by how the world occurs to someone, how do we judge the authenticity of their pursuit of happiness? Can we always say they are truly aiming for happiness, or are they sometimes just lost in chaos with no clear aim at all?

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Dwight: And it might be "clear" only in the moment. Even everyday "sane" people have a clear intention to exercise tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes, their behavior shows that a different intention has taken over.

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Aiko: That’s a great example—people constantly shift intentions based on changing circumstances or feelings. But doesn’t this suggest that the pursuit of happiness isn’t always a straightforward or consistent drive? If intentions can be so fleeting and contradictory, is the idea of a singular, overarching purpose toward happiness really sustainable?

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Dwight: No, it’s not straightforward at all. One of the biggest struggles for almost everyone is balancing being happy now while also taking actions that are likely to result in happiness in the future.

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Aiko: That’s a key tension—present versus future happiness. But doesn’t this conflict show that happiness itself can be divided into competing forms, where immediate gratification and long-term fulfillment may clash? If people often sacrifice one for the other, can happiness still be considered a unified goal, or is it more fragmented and context-dependent?

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Dwight: The fact is that what brings happiness now may not lead to happiness in the future. But happiness remains central to everything.

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Aiko: I see your point—happiness is still the underlying driver, even when it’s split between the present and future. Yet, doesn’t this constant trade-off suggest that people are often bad at predicting what will actually bring them long-term happiness? If so, does the pursuit of happiness sometimes become misguided, even if it’s the central motivation?

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Dwight: I wouldn’t say it happens sometimes, but rather often. One of the breakthroughs of The New Ethics of Integrity is its ability to demonstrate how present happiness and future happiness can be integrated and support each other.

​

Aiko: That’s intriguing. If The New Ethics of Integrity offers a way to align immediate and long-term happiness, it might resolve the common conflict between instant gratification and delayed fulfillment. But how does it propose to achieve this integration? What practical guidance does it offer to ensure people make choices that harmonize both?

​

Dwight: That’s a great question, but it deviates from the current focus of our inquiry.

​

Aiko: Fair enough. So, coming back to your main thesis, if all human behavior is driven by the pursuit of happiness—broadly defined—are there any exceptions, or do you hold this as an absolute across all actions, even in the most self-destructive or harmful behaviors?

​

Dwight: Yes, it’s often not clear how certain behaviors are intended to bring happiness (or reduce unhappiness). For a long time, I struggled to understand the core benefit of guilt or self-criticism. Occasionally, it helps with needed behavioral changes, but that’s rare. I eventually realized the core benefit is relief from potential criticism or blame from others. Guilt essentially signals, "Look, I already feel bad about this, I’m already punishing myself, so I’m not such a bad person after all. Please go easy on me." It offers relief from the fear of external blame.

​

Aiko: That’s an insightful take—guilt as a preemptive defense mechanism to soften external judgment. But doesn’t this suggest guilt is a strategy for emotional survival rather than a path toward real happiness? If guilt primarily serves to avoid criticism, does it ever truly lead to happiness, or is it just a short-term solution to a deeper problem of self-worth and fear of judgment?

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Dwight: Again, that’s going off-topic. I was simply illustrating how behaviors that often come with significant costs still have some positive motivation behind them (which is a basic NLP tenet). By positive intent, I mean the intention to move toward happiness or away from unhappiness.

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Aiko: Got it. So even self-destructive behaviors, under this framework, have a hidden positive intention tied to avoiding pain or seeking some form of relief. If that’s the case, is it fair to say that no behavior is truly irrational or purposeless, as every action, no matter how harmful, serves some internal goal of happiness or relief from suffering?

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Dwight: That’s exactly what I intended to demonstrate. So, as the devil’s advocate, have I proven it beyond doubt?

​

Aiko: You’ve made a strong case, but there’s still room for skepticism. While most behaviors might have a hidden intent to seek happiness or avoid pain, some actions—especially those driven by severe mental illness, trauma, or extreme desperation—might lack coherent intention altogether. Is it possible that in certain states, people act without any true goal or sense of positive intent?

​

Dwight: I am sure it is possible to act just based on built-in bodily responses (like immediately removing your hand when it accidentally touches the hot stove) or even be guided in ways where one isn’t aware of the intent. However, it’s very reasonable to assume that all these automatic responses were trying to create survival value.

​

Aiko: That makes sense—many automatic or unconscious actions are tied to survival instincts, which indirectly contribute to well-being. But if survival value is the ultimate aim, isn’t it slightly different from happiness in the broad sense? Could there be a distinction between simply surviving and living in a way that pursues deeper forms of happiness?

​

Dwight: In a certain sense, that’s true. Our DNA programs us to survive, but in doing so, it makes us highly sensitive to pain and pleasure, happiness and unhappiness. Generally, a being without pain and unhappiness has better chances of survival.

​

Aiko: That’s a fair point—our sensitivity to pain and pleasure is a survival mechanism. But does this mean survival is the deeper, driving force, with happiness and unhappiness merely side effects of it? Or would you argue that happiness itself has evolved into an essential component of how we navigate survival?

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Dwight: Once nature gave humans the ability to project into the future, we gained immense survival advantages compared to non-humans. However, it also meant we could project future happiness or unhappiness, which introduced the ability to choose not to survive, i.e., to kill ourselves. This choice depends on what we project, whether true or false. Someone who envisions endless suffering might choose suicide, believing death ends all pain—even if it removes any chance of future happiness. On the other hand, someone enduring the same suffering might refrain from suicide if they believe, for instance, that hell awaits and the suffering would be worse.

​

Aiko: That’s a fascinating point. The ability to project future scenarios allows us to weigh survival against potential suffering or relief, but it also means our decision hinges on subjective beliefs or interpretations of the future. Does this suggest, then, that the pursuit of happiness (or avoidance of unhappiness) isn’t just about present or past experiences but is heavily shaped by how we imagine our future—whether those projections are realistic or not?

​

Dwight: Yes, unlike other animals that largely live in the present, we humans are "time-binders." We have a sense of "I" that extends beyond the current moment, into the past (as recalled or re-created) and into the future (as projected, whether accurate or not). Although intense physical or psychological pleasure or pain can make us unresponsive to these projections, otherwise, our experience of the past and future gets bundled into our experience of the now.

​

Aiko: That’s a compelling perspective. Our ability to bind time, weaving past memories and future projections into the present, makes the pursuit of happiness far more complex than mere survival. But doesn’t this time-binding ability sometimes undermine our happiness, as we relive past regrets or anticipate future anxieties? Could it be that this uniquely human trait both amplifies and complicates the happiness/unhappiness equation?

​

Dwight: Of course, I could argue that my cat is happier than I’ll ever be, at least within the limits of what a cat can experience. As a human, I have access to all sorts of happiness—and unhappiness—that my cat doesn’t.

​

Aiko: That’s an interesting comparison. Your cat’s happiness seems simpler, tied to basic needs, while your human capacity for greater happiness comes with the cost of complex emotions, future anxieties, and deeper suffering. Would you say that the broader range of experiences available to humans—despite the added potential for unhappiness—makes our pursuit of happiness richer, or does it just make it more difficult?

​

Dwight: Our ability to bind time introduces a level of complexity absent from the rest of the animal kingdom. Humans are the only animals capable of sustaining significant internal conflict—an inner civil war. The rest of the animal kingdom cannot create or sustain such inner turmoil. While other animals can endure pain, only humans have the capacity to suffer.

​

Aiko: That’s a powerful distinction—pain versus suffering. Our capacity to project, reflect, and engage in internal conflict creates suffering in a way other animals can’t experience. But does this deeper capacity for suffering mean our pursuit of happiness is inherently more fraught, or does it also offer us greater opportunities for transcendent joy that animals can never achieve?

​

Dwight: Obviously, while our time-binding ability gives us the capacity for suffering, it also gives us capacities for joy that are unavailable to other animals.

​

Aiko: That makes sense—our ability to reflect on the past and imagine the future allows us to experience profound joy and fulfillment that animals can’t. But given this dual capacity for both intense suffering and joy, do you think the human pursuit of happiness is more of a delicate balance, constantly managing these competing emotional potentials?

​

Dwight: I wouldn’t say it happens sometimes, but rather often. One of the breakthroughs of The New Ethics of Integrity is its ability to demonstrate how present happiness and future happiness can be integrated and support each other.

​

Aiko: That’s intriguing. If The New Ethics of Integrity offers a way to align immediate and long-term happiness, it might resolve the common conflict between instant gratification and delayed fulfillment. But how does it propose to achieve this integration? What practical guidance does it offer to ensure people make choices that harmonize both?

​

Dwight: That’s a great question, but it deviates from the current focus of our inquiry.

​

Aiko: Fair enough. So, coming back to your main thesis, if all human behavior is driven by the pursuit of happiness—broadly defined—are there any exceptions, or do you hold this as an absolute across all actions, even in the most self-destructive or harmful behaviors?

​

Dwight: Yes, it’s often not clear how certain behaviors are intended to bring happiness (or reduce unhappiness). For a long time, I struggled to understand the core benefit of guilt or self-criticism. Occasionally, it helps with needed behavioral changes, but that’s rare. I eventually realized the core benefit is relief from potential criticism or blame from others. Guilt essentially signals, "Look, I already feel bad about this, I’m already punishing myself, so I’m not such a bad person after all. Please go easy on me." It offers relief from the fear of external blame.

​

Aiko: That’s an insightful take—guilt as a preemptive defense mechanism to soften external judgment. But doesn’t this suggest guilt is a strategy for emotional survival rather than a path toward real happiness? If guilt primarily serves to avoid criticism, does it ever truly lead to happiness, or is it just a short-term solution to a deeper problem of self-worth and fear of judgment?

​

Dwight: Again, that’s going off-topic. I was simply illustrating how behaviors that often come with significant costs still have some positive motivation behind them (which is a basic NLP tenet). By positive intent, I mean the intention to move toward happiness or away from unhappiness.

​

Aiko: Got it. So even self-destructive behaviors, under this framework, have a hidden positive intention tied to avoiding pain or seeking some form of relief. If that’s the case, is it fair to say that no behavior is truly irrational or purposeless, as every action, no matter how harmful, serves some internal goal of happiness or relief from suffering?

​

Dwight: That’s exactly what I intended to demonstrate. So, as the devil’s advocate, have I proven it beyond doubt?

​

Aiko: You’ve made a strong case, but there’s still room for skepticism. While most behaviors might have a hidden intent to seek happiness or avoid pain, some actions—especially those driven by severe mental illness, trauma, or extreme desperation—might lack coherent intention altogether. Is it possible that in certain states, people act without any true goal or sense of positive intent?

​

Dwight: I am sure it is possible to act just based on built-in bodily responses (like immediately removing your hand when it accidentally touches the hot stove) or even be guided in ways where one isn’t aware of the intent. However, it’s very reasonable to assume that all these automatic responses were trying to create survival value.

​

Aiko: That makes sense—many automatic or unconscious actions are tied to survival instincts, which indirectly contribute to well-being. But if survival value is the ultimate aim, isn’t it slightly different from happiness in the broad sense? Could there be a distinction between simply surviving and living in a way that pursues deeper forms of happiness?

​

Dwight: In a certain sense, that’s true. Our DNA programs us to survive, but in doing so, it makes us highly sensitive to pain and pleasure, happiness and unhappiness. Generally, a being without pain and unhappiness has better chances of survival.

​

Aiko: That’s a fair point—our sensitivity to pain and pleasure is a survival mechanism. But does this mean survival is the deeper, driving force, with happiness and unhappiness merely side effects of it? Or would you argue that happiness itself has evolved into an essential component of how we navigate survival?

​

Dwight: Once nature gave humans the ability to project into the future, we gained immense survival advantages compared to non-humans. However, it also meant we could project future happiness or unhappiness, which introduced the ability to choose not to survive, i.e., to kill ourselves. This choice depends on what we project, whether true or false. Someone who envisions endless suffering might choose suicide, believing death ends all pain—even if it removes any chance of future happiness. On the other hand, someone enduring the same suffering might refrain from suicide if they believe, for instance, that hell awaits and the suffering would be worse.

​

Aiko: That’s a fascinating point. The ability to project future scenarios allows us to weigh survival against potential suffering or relief, but it also means our decision hinges on subjective beliefs or interpretations of the future. Does this suggest, then, that the pursuit of happiness (or avoidance of unhappiness) isn’t just about present or past experiences but is heavily shaped by how we imagine our future—whether those projections are realistic or not?

​

Dwight: Yes, unlike other animals that largely live in the present, we humans are "time-binders." We have a sense of "I" that extends beyond the current moment, into the past (as recalled or re-created) and into the future (as projected, whether accurate or not). Although intense physical or psychological pleasure or pain can make us unresponsive to these projections, otherwise, our experience of the past and future gets bundled into our experience of the now.

​

Aiko: That’s a compelling perspective. Our ability to bind time, weaving past memories and future projections into the present, makes the pursuit of happiness far more complex than mere survival. But doesn’t this time-binding ability sometimes undermine our happiness, as we relive past regrets or anticipate future anxieties? Could it be that this uniquely human trait both amplifies and complicates the happiness/unhappiness equation?

​

Dwight: Of course, I could argue that my cat is happier than I’ll ever be, at least within the limits of what a cat can experience. As a human, I have access to all sorts of happiness—and unhappiness—that my cat doesn’t.

​

Aiko: That’s an interesting comparison. Your cat’s happiness seems simpler, tied to basic needs, while your human capacity for greater happiness comes with the cost of complex emotions, future anxieties, and deeper suffering. Would you say that the broader range of experiences available to humans—despite the added potential for unhappiness—makes our pursuit of happiness richer, or does it just make it more difficult?

​

Dwight: Our ability to bind time introduces a level of complexity absent from the rest of the animal kingdom. Humans are the only animals capable of sustaining significant internal conflict—an inner civil war. The rest of the animal kingdom cannot create or sustain such inner turmoil. While other animals can endure pain, only humans have the capacity to suffer.

​

Aiko: That’s a powerful distinction—pain versus suffering. Our capacity to project, reflect, and engage in internal conflict creates suffering in a way other animals can’t experience. But does this deeper capacity for suffering mean our pursuit of happiness is inherently more fraught, or does it also offer us greater opportunities for transcendent joy that animals can never achieve?

​

Dwight: Obviously, while our time-binding ability gives us the capacity for suffering, it also gives us capacities for joy that are unavailable to other animals.

​

Aiko: That makes sense—our ability to reflect on the past and imagine the future allows us to experience profound joy and fulfillment that animals can’t. But given this dual capacity for both intense suffering and joy, do you think the human pursuit of happiness is more of a delicate balance, constantly managing these competing emotional potentials?

​

Dwight: Although I’ve allowed us to stray a bit from the main thesis, let’s get back on track. Are you satisfied, Aiko, that I’ve thoroughly established the fact that humans are ultimately driven by a desire to move toward the positive (what we think will bring pleasure or happiness) and away from the negative (what we think will bring pain or unhappiness)?

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Aiko: Yes, Dwight, I think you’ve effectively made the case. You've shown that even in seemingly irrational or destructive behaviors, the underlying motivation is rooted in pursuing some form of happiness or avoiding suffering. It’s a compelling argument for human behavior being fundamentally goal-oriented, even when those goals are misunderstood or misjudged.