Everyday Philosophy: Can you have a “calling” without a caller?

A wonderful submission for Everyday Philosophy, Anker. Thank you. Here we have an “everyday” observation — such as people claiming to have a “calling” in life — and you’ve unpacked it to reveal some seriously complex questions about religious belief.

That said, there is a shallow reading of this — and a slippery way out of the noose, which would be to say this is an issue of semantics. We could argue that when people say they have a “calling” or are following their “vocation,” they are being sloppy or poetic in what they mean. They don’t literally mean “calling.” It’s just a stand-in for “feels right.”

But I don’t really think that resolves the issue. Even if it’s a metaphor — a hangover from a different way of viewing the world — I think it’s worth digging into the origins of that idea. Why do we say “calling”? And can the idea make sense in a non-religious, secular sandbox like LinkedIn?

To answer that question, we’ll dig into the idea of telos — which perhaps belongs to a different age. We’ll look at what Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas have to say about human “purpose.” Then, we’ll try to salvage the idea that having a “calling” — in a world that places decidedly less emphasis on God or the spiritual — still makes sense in a secular, scientific way. We’ll use Sigmund Freud and Hannah Arendt to find out.

Teleological spades out, we’re going to find us some purpose.

Aristotle: A different time

A lot of people tend to assume that there is a wrong way to do things and a right way. You have better and worse versions of yourself. But how can we make sense of “good” or “whole” human beings? Well, for Aristotle, it’s all to do with telos, or purpose.

Many of the things in our life have a “proper use.” They have a function to fulfill. And when they’re doing that job well, we say they’re good. A mug is meant to hold liquid, and if it does so, it’s good. If it’s got a hole in it, well, it’s a bad mug. A toaster makes toast, a spade digs a hole, and a keyboard writes letters. When they stop doing that, we call them bad. A bad toaster makes no toast. And a good toaster satisfies its telos or its purpose.

But what about human beings? What does it mean to say that we have a purpose? Well, for Aristotle, there is such a thing as a whole, flourishing, and happy life — what he calls eudaimonia. Therefore, if we are to flourish and be whole, we must also have a telos. There is a good version of living. You, me, and everyone in the world have a better and worse version of themselves. We are all better when we do what we’re here to do. It’s when we find our vocation. We listen to our calling (as Anker put it). It’s when we obey our telos.

But it didn’t take long for some philosophers and theologians to ask the obvious question: Who or what gives us this purpose? And this is the basis for Thomas Aquinas’ teleological arguments for the existence of God. Aquinas argued that if there’s a purpose and direction — if there’s a path — there must be a pathmaker or a director. If our lives are like an arrow flying to a target, who fired the arrow? Or, as Anker points out: If we have a calling, who’s calling us?

Freud and Arendt: The “human condition”

Aquinas and the teleological arguments haven’t fared well in the history of philosophy. David Hume is often thought to have done the most damage, and one of his most incisive points is all about humans overplaying their hand. We are a meaning-making species, sometimes seeing patterns where there aren’t any. We see faces in clouds and Jesus in toast (a psychological phenomenon called pareidolia). So, when we “see” design, that is simply us projecting our meaning-needing biases on the world. There is no “design.” That’s just how we see things.

Today, many non-religious people don’t tend to see the world in terms of “design” and “purpose” but rather in terms of physical forces and systems like evolution. And yet, this idea of a “human condition” lives on. Libraries of great books have been devoted to the idea of the human condition. Philosophers, psychologists, and self-help gurus have made their living by arguing there is a right and a wrong way to do this “human” business. Hannah Arendt, for example, wrote an entire book called The Human Condition, in which she argues that human flourishing and happiness are only possible if we engage with the polis — our community and political institutions. That’s a blueprint for how to be human. And it’s not drastically different in tone from Aristotle.

Even the existentialists — who did away with God and argued we need to develop our “authentic” self — had to argue that there is an authentic self. They believed that when you strip away the pretense, the facades, and the scripted drama of life, you find a raw and authentic being in need of some attention. Sigmund Freud and the entire psychoanalytic school is built on the idea that there are certain primal urges or drives that are true for all humans: All humans have an Ego, an Id, and a Superego, and happiness comes in finding the balance between those. That’s pretty prescriptive. And, again, it sounds very Aristotelean.

A calling without a caller

So, Anker, the reason I like your question so much is because it calls out an interesting example of doublethink in modernity. Because a lot of people do use the language of calling or vocation without assuming that it requires some pre-established order.

When I was younger, I used to play a computer game called Lemmings. You had to get your lemmings from an entrance to an exit, using all their skills and tricks to avoid the deadly obstacles. One lemming was known as the bridge builder. He would carry a backpack of bricks and lay them out in front of him. He would climb that step, take another brick out, and lay it out. On and on he would lay his bricks. This is how I imagine the “create your own journey” mindset. It’s what I imagine “forge your destiny” to be like.

But when we say we’re finding our calling, we’re not doing that. We’re not laying down bricks; we’re uncovering a prefabricated path. We’re pushing back the snow or the weeds to reveal a shiny, welcoming highway. And that is a curious thing. To say, “this is my path” or “this is my vocation” or “this is my calling” does beg the question: “Where does that path come from?” And it seems there can be only two options: Either it’s from some religious force — fate, a divine hand, a metaphysical world — or from our own biology and experiences. I’m not especially religious myself, so I gravitate toward that second option.

So, Anker, to answer your question: Yes, I do think that “a calling” implies some kind of caller. But it doesn’t have to be God or religious. The “caller” in this instance could well be the chorus of your genetic makeup and your environment. A vocation is a vocation because of the way your brain works. Which probably won’t end up on LinkedIn.