马克思《青年在选择职业时的考虑》英文版

Reflections of a Young Man on the Choice of a Profession

Source: MECW Volume 1

Written: between August 10 and 16, 1835

First published: in Archiv für die Geschichte des Sozialismus und der Arbeiterbewegung, 1925

Translated from the Latin.

Transcribed: by Sally Ryan.

Nature has ordained a sphere of activity for the animal, within which it moves in tranquility, never seeking to exceed its bounds, unaware of any alternative. Man, too, was endowed by the Deity with a general aim—to ennoble himself and humanity, yet left to his own devices to seek the means to achieve this end; to choose a societal position most befitting him, from which to elevate both himself and society.

This choice is a privilege unique to man, yet it is a choice that can obliterate his life's work, thwart his plans, and render him miserable. Therefore, serious contemplation of this choice is the first imperative for the young man embarking on his career, who wishes not to leave his destiny to chance.

Each person has an aim that seems significant to them, and indeed is so, if the deepest conviction and the innermost voice of their heart deem it so, for the Deity never abandons mortal man without a guide; He speaks softly yet with certainty.

Yet, this voice can easily be muffled, and what we mistook for divine inspiration may be the fleeting product of a moment, subject to destruction by the next. Our imagination may be inflamed, our emotions aroused, phantoms may dance before our eyes, and we may rush headlong into whatever impulsive instinct suggests, which we imagine the Deity Himself has ordained. But, what we ardently embrace may soon repel us, and we find our entire existence in ruins.

We must, therefore, meticulously examine whether we have truly been inspired in our selection of a profession, whether an inner voice sanctions it, or whether this inspiration is an illusion, and what we believed to be a divine call was merely self-deception. How else can we trace the origin of the inspiration itself?

What is grand dazzles, its luster kindles ambition, and ambition can easily have generated the inspiration, or what we perceived as such; but reason can no longer restrain the man seduced by the demon of ambition, and he rushes headlong into whatever impulsive instinct suggests: he no longer chooses his station in life, instead, it is dictated by chance and illusion.

Nor are we compelled to adopt the position offering the most dazzling prospects; that is not the position which, over the years we may hold it, will not tire us, nor dampen our zeal, nor cool our enthusiasm, but one in which we shall soon see our wishes unfulfilled, our ideas left unsatisfied, and we shall rail against the Deity and curse humanity.

Nor does ambition alone arouse sudden enthusiasm for a particular profession; we may perhaps have embellished it in our imagination, and embellished it so greatly that it appears the pinnacle that life can offer. We have not analyzed it, not considered the entire burden, the significant responsibility it imposes on us; we have seen it only from afar, and distance is deceiving.

Our own reason cannot be our counselor here; for it is supported neither by experience nor by profound observation, being deceived by emotion and blinded by fantasy. To whom, then, should we turn our eyes? Who should support us where our reason abandons us?

Our parents, who have already traversed life's path and experienced the severity of fate—our heart tells us. And if our enthusiasm still persists, if we still continue to love a profession and believe ourselves called to it after we have examined it with a calm mind, after we have perceived its burdens and become acquainted with its difficulties, then we should adopt it, then neither does our enthusiasm deceive us nor does haste carry us away.

Yet, we cannot always assume the position we believe we are called to; our relations in society have, to some extent, already been established before we are in a position to determine them.

Our physical constitution itself is often a formidable obstacle, and let no one scoff at its rights. It is true that we can rise above it; but then our downfall is all the more rapid, for then we are venturing to build on crumbling ruins, then our entire life is an unhappy struggle between the mental and the bodily principle. But he who is unable to reconcile the warring elements within himself, how can he withstand life's tempestuous stress, how can he act calmly? And it is from calm alone that great and fine deeds can arise; it is the only soil in which ripe fruits successfully develop.

Although we cannot work for long, and rarely happily, with a physical constitution not suited to our profession, the thought continually arises of sacrificing our well-being to duty, of acting vigorously尽管我们虚弱. But if we have chosen a profession for which we do not possess the talent, we can never exercise it worthily, we shall soon realize with shame our own incapacity and tell ourselves that we are useless created beings, members of society who are incapable of fulfilling their vocation. Then the most natural consequence is self-contempt, and what feeling is more painful and less capable of being compensated for by all that the outside world has to offer? Self-contempt is a serpent that ever gnaws at one's breast, sucking the life-blood from one's heart and mixing it with the poison of misanthropy and despair.

An illusion about our talents for a profession which we have closely examined is a fault which takes its revenge on us ourselves, and even if it does not meet with the censure of the outside world it gives rise to more terrible pain in our hearts than such censure could inflict.

If we have considered all this, and if the conditions of our life permit us to choose any profession we like, we may adopt the one that assures us the greatest worth, one which is based on ideas of whose truth we are thoroughly convinced, which offers us the widest scope to work for humanity, and for ourselves to approach closer to the general aim for which every profession is but a means—perfection.

Worth is that which most of all uplifts a man, which imparts a higher nobility to his actions and all his endeavors, which makes him invulnerable, admired by the crowd and raised above it.

But worth can be ensured only by a profession in which we are not servile tools, but in which we act independently in our own sphere. It can be ensured only by a profession that does not demand reprehensible acts, even if reprehensible only in outward appearance, a profession which the best can follow with noble pride. A profession which assures this in the greatest degree is not always the highest, but is always the most to be preferred.

But just as a profession which gives us no assurance of worth degrades us, we shall as surely succumb under the burdens of one which is based on ideas that we later recognize to be false. There we have no recourse but to self-deception, and what a desperate salvation is that which is obtained by self-betrayal!

Those professions which are not so much involved in life itself as concerned with abstract truths are the most dangerous for the young man whose principles are not yet firm and whose convictions are not yet strong and unshakeable. At the same time these professions may seem to be the most exalted if they have taken deep root in our hearts and if we are capable of sacrificing our lives and all endeavors for the ideas which prevail in them. They can bestow happiness on the man who has a vocation for them, but they destroy him who adopts them rashly, without reflection, yielding to the impulse of the moment.

On the other hand, the high regard we have for the ideas on which our profession is based gives us a higher standing in society, enhances our own worth, and makes our actions un-challengeable.

One who chooses a profession he values highly will shudder at the idea of being unworthy of it; he will act nobly if only because his position in society is a noble one.

But the chief guide which must direct us in the choice of a profession is the welfare of mankind and our own perfection. It should not be thought that these two interests could be in conflict, that one would have to destroy the other; on the contrary, man's nature is so constituted that he can attain his own perfection only by working for the perfection, for the good, of his fellow men.

If he works only for himself, he may perhaps become a famous man of learning, a great sage, an excellent poet, but he can never be a perfect, truly great man.

History calls those men the greatest who have ennobled themselves by working for the common good; experience acclaims as happiest the man who has made the greatest number of people happy; religion itself teaches us that the ideal being whom all strive to copy sacrificed himself for the sake of mankind, and who would dare to set at nought such judgments?

If we have chosen the position in life in which we can most of all work for mankind, no burdens can bow us down, because they are sacrifices for the benefit of all; then