In Defense of Quitting

Instead of motivational posters that say “Never Give Up!” I think there should be a few posters out there that sincerely encourage people to quit. Maybe I say this because I have quit many times myself. But I think it is necessary to rethink the “never-quit” mentality that can cause people undue pain.

At its core, quitting is about failing to commit. College freshmen could promise their parents that they will not drink. Acquaintances could promise each other that they will get lunch soon. You could promise yourself that you will not skip a lecture again. These commitments are easy to quit, as taking a sip of beer, forgetting about a lunch date, or wallowing in laziness can feel inconsequential.

But some commitments are much more important. There is the commitment that parents make to raise a child. There are the commitments we make to uphold justice as American citizens. There are people who liberally commit themselves to ideals like truth or justice or love, and set themselves on a career path to develop these ideals as their life’s work. All of these commitments require a significant level of responsibility to something outside of oneself, making them all the harder to quit.

I had a glimpse of what it feels like to quit one of these commitments when I decided to quit my internship at the White House last semester.

When I started, I was ready to commit myself to an institution that was dedicated to helping the American people. But after three months, I realized I did not have the same dedication to the day-to-day government work that others had. I could not envision myself as a staffer working week after week on the details of the next roundtable or composing the next policy memo, despite my efforts to appreciate the noticeable impact this work had on others. So I quit.

But beyond quitting my job—and thus giving up the opportunity to help the country in meaningful ways—I was also quitting on my coworkers, who needed me to help them do the same. The only reason that the whole enterprise of government can get off the ground is that there are people dedicated to making sure its promises to the public are fulfilled. And by taking myself out of this intricate web of promises with the public at its center, I made our government weaker, even by just a shade of a difference. It is not surprising, then, that quitting such a place involves a deep sense of failure given the wide-ranging costs of giving up.

Although I do not like thinking about it, quitting the White House and abandoning my public service aspirations has also left me vulnerable to leading a life that does not contribute to something greater than myself.

If quitting left me so vulnerable, then why do I think quitting can be good? I suppose that quitting is what makes committing all the more meaningful. If quitting makes us vulnerable to living without what makes us strong, then committing is simply the healing response to the pain of quitting.

Just as college students might know that opting out of a lunch date leaves you susceptible to loneliness or skipping a lecture leaves you vulnerable to ignorance, our ancestors knew that quitting on a hunt left them vulnerable to hunger. As such, the threat of being vulnerable is what makes people honor the commitments that are necessary to their survival, such as commitments to food, knowledge, or companionship. In this light, one can consider those who quit as people who are open to being vulnerable so that they may better strive toward what makes them strong.

But what can we learn from people who quit more consequential commitments? Hopefully something, since people around the world have been quitting these types of commitments over the past few years. Britain gave a vote of no confidence in the project of European unification. Turkey seems like it will let go of liberal democracy. And in the face of our nation’s failure to provide racial justice, rioting Americans have, in my opinion, gone so far as to quit on commitments to law and order.

It seems, then, that the commitments that have made people stronger and allowed them to live well have been in vain—there clearly still are those who hunger for justice or a sense of community. However, if quitting in these cases can teach us anything, it can teach us more about the nature of the thing for which we are hungry. From there, we can strive.

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