What it means to matter.

Do you matter? I am sure you do. You have spent your lifetime finding a way to matter.

I have been extraordinarily fortunate; living life at extremes, surrounded by diversity. Some experiences so peculiar I can’t describe them here. 

Until very recently it was rare for humans to have these kinds of opportunities: even today, in the small Welsh towns where some of my family live it is still unusual to travel as far as Swansea – and a trip to London is the stuff of fantasy.

I like life at extremes. Those extremes reveal things about people. Victor Frankl’s experience of the Nazi concentration camps revealed to him something profound about people, which he described in ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’. He challenged the popular, Freudian, view of sex as the fundamental drive – noticing that when everything is stripped from people, they still crave a sense of meaning.

I’ve had more than my fair share of relationships – crazy ones, secure ones – but for the last few years I've been on my own. I think it has helped me to see what it is that people seek from relationships – and perhaps I can tell you what you are seeking in yours.

It’s not sex (if you haven’t figured that out for yourself already). You might be tempted to think that it is ‘unconditional positive regard’ (as Carl Rogers might have thought) – but this seems unlikely: you will know people who persist in relationships which are fractious and full of disagreements. As relationships shift from romantic to companionate love our companions rarely worship us. And we can set aside Becker’s account - that we seek always to be the hero of our own narrative. This is true – but why tolerate someone who regularly reminds us that it’s our turn to take the bins out?

So is it companionship, then? Again – unlikely. If it were merely companionship we would be less aggrieved by betrayal and unfaithfulness. There is something in the depths of that singular emotion that gives the game away:

We want to be significant. We want to matter.

When our lover betrays us, they send a clear message: ‘someone else matters more’. But we will spend a lifetime with a faithful companion who moans at us continually - because this is one way of mattering. This accounts for the solace people find in pets: you matter to your pets – to a faithful dog you are their world, their centre of significance. 

Why do we still desire a partner when we have children? Again, whilst we matter to our kids, we know that other kids matter more to them – that they will outgrow us in time . Single mums on Tinder may write 'my kids come first' but they know, in their heart of hearts, that there will come a day when they won't come first for their kids. 

What we crave is someone to whom we matter more than anything. When robot companions eventually become available, what will they lack? Will their unconditional love prove unsatisfying? I suspect so. We will realise that to them, we are every bit as significant as we are to our toasters. We need to matter to someone who matters.

So I think Frankl was close: our most profound impulse is to seek meaning, but as a means to establish our own significance. What we want, is to matter.

In this light so much of what makes us human makes sense: we create stories of gods and heroes, perpetually re-creating a narrative of the battle between good and evil, according to which we can derive significance. Organisations create a sense of ‘purpose’, like a flag in which employees may wrap themselves. Some people will eschew relationships in pursuit of some higher ideal; others will dismiss grand ideals in favour of simple acts of service. Each of them matters in their own way.

Human culture radiates out from this fundamental drive, like branches from the trunk of a tree: religion, relationships, community, culture – all organised to deliver to us a sense of significance. An economy of ‘likes’ to reassure us that we matter. This need to matter makes us who we are.

image: @alexiby