What You Leave Behind

Whatever you set out to do, you usually justify it by telling yourself or others something along the lines of “I want to make a lasting legacy.” But what exactly does that mean?

It seems to me that when most people talk of legacy, they mean to create some sort of object that would last forever and speak to one’s achievement, like a Roman statue that attested to an emperor’s greatness. However, like many objects of history and great achievement such as the Great Wall of China or the Mona Lisa, there is a tendency for these things to deteriorate into rubble and residue.

So it’s hard to say that legacy in any line of work would last forever. But it’s tempting to want such a thing. Just take a look at the conversation around President Obama’s last year in office.

Commenting on the President’s speech at this year’s Democratic National Convention, Vox’s Matthew Yglesias ‘03 makes the argument that the President likely considers that this election will make or break his legacy. If Clinton wins the election, “Obama’s America” will be preserved. If Trump wins, “it will all wash away as a strange anomaly.” However, such terms inadequately describe the impact of the President’s efforts.

On one hand, to think that Obama’s America could be preserved if Clinton won the presidency overestimates the power of the presidency. Just as Reagan’s America existed for a moment and no longer exists today, Obama’s America will disappear and transform into something different.

On the other hand, believing that the President’s work would be completely washed away if Trump won underestimates Obama’s impact. His efforts to provide healthcare, mend the economy, and wage a war on terror have affected many people and will continue to have residual effects in the future.

However much one wants to believe that the impact of one’s work will be eternal—or however much one wants another’s legacy to be obliterated—it is unrealistic to put things in such terms.

How, then, should people view their work and its legacy? I suppose that when people say they want to make a lasting impact, what they are really talking about is wanting to leave behind a certain kind of residue.

What do I mean by residue? Let us take as an example a typical Harvard student. A typical student might have an A- GPA, belong to one or two extracurricular activities that they put a substantial amount of time into, take an internship or two, and have a close group of friends with which they spend most of their time. In each of these efforts, students leave behind a residue of themselves as a result of the time they devoted.

You might not consider the work or the impact of a college student to be all that significant. But these very small efforts make up college life. Contributing in section, volunteering for a few hours for PBHA, or simply eating lunch with your block mates all leave behind small amounts of residue that contribute to a heap left behind by generations of typical Harvard students. And it is this heap that, every year, incoming freshmen come to know and graduating seniors take a piece from to take with them.

Looking at work and its impact this way, the efforts of a college student can be considered just as important as the efforts of the President. Although the President’s work does leave behind a large amount of residue, it is in no way wholly constitutive of the American people’s present or future experience. It is simply another amount that contributes to people’s lives, which are accumulations of pieces of countless other people.

This kind of impact and legacy may not seem as grand as a project that will last forever. However, one’s work can live on in other ways. Even if, say, Trump were to be elected president and reverse many of President Obama’s executive orders, we might still think about the President’s efforts in terms of residue and conclude that his executive orders could live on as inspiration for future legislation, court cases, or even grassroots movements. Even if your life’s work cannot live on literally, people will take what they can from your legacy and build from there.

Similarly, what we do here at Harvard could live on in many ways. That paper you wrote for class could turn into a senior thesis. The friend that you always had long conversations over lunch with could turn into a business partner. These residues act as the basic materials for building deep, meaningful lives. Given this, I think it’s important to always keep the following question in mind: What residue would you like to leave behind?

Dan A. Valenzuela, ’17-’18, is a philosophy concentrator living in Cabot House. His column appears on alternate Fridays.