Aweh, My Dearly Beloved Fellow Ruminants & Groupies
So, what is this thing called the Puritan work ethic? Also known as the Protestant work ethic, it’s rooted in the beliefs of the Puritans, a 16th and 17th-century Protestant Christian group. They championed hard work, discipline, and frugality as virtues, believing these qualities not only built character but also indicated one’s spiritual standing. For the Puritans, working hard wasn’t just about making a living—it reflected moral righteousness and, possibly, a sign of divine favour.
But what does this really mean for us today?
As someone who has been in paid employment for 38 years, I’ve often reflected on my own relationship with work. Was I driven by necessity, by a sense of duty, or by an unconscious adoption of this Puritan belief? Like many of us, I started working out of necessity. In South Africa, where the social safety net is virtually non-existent, the alternative to working is bleak—standing at the traffic lights with a cardboard sign that says, “Please feed me.”
But as time passed, and the pressure of financial survival eased, the question shifted: why do I still work? Is it out of habit, a desire for achievement, or some lingering sense that hard work equals virtue? Could it be that my salvation depends on me continuing to work? Unfortunately, not. Given my atheist credentials ultimate damnation, torment, and suffering in hell awaits.
If we step back a few centuries, the aristocracy—the class of nobles and landowners—held a very different view of work. They considered manual labour, and even paid work, beneath their dignity. Their status came from inherited wealth and land, not from earning an income. Maybe they had a point. Why toil endlessly if you don’t have to?
This disdain for work may seem foreign to us now, but we still see traces of it today. The wealthy often enjoy passive income streams, free from the grind. So, are we working because we must, or because we’ve bought into a system that glorifies work?
In 1932, the philosopher and famous atheist Bertrand Russell penned an essay titled “In Praise of Idleness.” Russell argued that excessive work was unnecessary and detrimental to human well-being. He suggested that technological advancements could allow us to work less while maintaining a high standard of living. But instead of embracing leisure, society has doubled down on work, pushing for more production and more consumption. And that was 1932! The thirst for more has only grown since then.
Why is it that we always want more? More money, more possessions, more recognition. We’re always chasing that next thing, convinced it will satisfy us—but it never does. Humans are insatiable. We think once we have that new gadget or car, we’ll be content, but there’s always something else just over the horizon. Maybe that’s what keeps us in this cycle—this endless pursuit of more. It’s not the work itself, but the illusion that the next milestone will finally be enough.
Despite his advocacy for idleness, Russell was remarkably productive. He was a prolific writer, philosopher, and activist. Even as he praised leisure, he never truly stopped working. Is that the irony of modern life? We want less work, but our culture pushes us toward relentless productivity.
Should I keep working just to buy a Porsche or an M3 BMW? After all, I am a petrolhead. But if I’m honest, this doesn’t really motivate me. My current old BMW is fast enough to outrun my existential dread, so what’s the point of a newer one?
So, why don’t I just throw in the towel and embrace idleness? I like the idea. But if I stop working, what will fill the void? Another blog? A new task? Or maybe nothing at all?
The truth is, I’ll keep writing this blog. Not because it matters, but because it’s something to do. In the end, maybe that’s all any of us are doing—just finding things to keep us busy, to distract us from the gnawing question that none of us really want to answer: does any of it actually mean anything?
But maybe, just maybe, there’s some meaning in the connection we find through these shared words. After all, what is a blog if not a bridge between my thoughts and yours? It’s through this strange digital conversation, through the comments and the fleeting moments of recognition, that we touch something real. Without the blog, without this back-and-forth, what would connect us? And maybe, in that connection, however brief or superficial, there’s a flicker of meaning. So I’ll keep pissing into the wind and screaming into the abyss—not because it fills the void, but because it connects us across it.
And now, as I finish this blog, I realise that in the time it’s taken me to reflect on work and meaning, my task list has only gotten longer. The wheel keeps spinning, and I’m still the hamster, running in place, ticking off tasks only to watch more pile up. But if nothing else, I like to think I’m a happy hamster—at least until the wheel stops turning.
Thank you for all the recommendations, comments and the love that I feel in cyberspace.
Regards
Bruce
Ruminant Pink Friday 