2. Happiness Is a Human Right

Consumption is a kind of morality, a kind of giving. The money you can afford to spend, you should spend. Not spending it is immoral. There is something I figured out very early, but when I try to teach it to others I find it unusually hard. Teaching people how to be wealthy is comparatively easy; teaching them how to be happy is harder; and teaching them how to spend — that is the hardest of all. The three look like a progression, but in fact none of the three can be missing. Together they make up a complete life. Having money but not being happy is the tragedy of a miser; being happy without a material foundation is a brief and brittle illusion; having money and being happy but not knowing how to spend is a betrayal of yourself and of others. Let me first describe what one day in my life — a capitalist who has been retired for more than twenty years — actually looks like. In the morning there is no alarm clock. I wake whenever I wake. After getting up I slowly brew a cup of coffee, find a healthy breakfast, and sit with my spouse on the balcony or in the living room and chat. If there are two things to do in a day, I tell myself, “Then I’ll do one today, and leave the other for tomorrow.” Most of the time I especially enjoy the stretches when there is nothing to do — I can drink coffee, listen to my parents tell stories about their past, ask my children what their dreams are these days, take the family traveling, eat whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it. One thing in a day; a few things in a week. Since I retired in 2004 I have lived this way the whole time. “Counting money until my hand cramps” is a joke; what I actually want is this kind of ease. Please note: this lifestyle is not because I am lazier than other people, nor because I lack ambition. Quite the opposite — for these past twenty-plus years I have worked every day: teaching investing for free, answering emails, recording videos, studying markets. But none of this work is work for money; it is work for service, work for what I myself want to do.

These two kinds of work carry completely different energy. One is like pushing a millstone for somebody else; the other is like writing poetry for yourself. The capitalist’s “work” is the latter. Someone once asked me, “Do you have worries?” I thought about it seriously and realized I really do not. This is not bravado, not a put-on detachment. The logic is very simple: what can be solved I solve; what cannot be solved I put down. Once you classify life’s problems this way, there is nothing you have to carry around on your back. What is the essence of worry? It is forcing yourself to carry what should not be carried, while postponing what should be handled. Once you see through this logic, worries disappear. The precondition for seeing through it, however, is enough composure — and composure usually requires financial freedom as its foundation. Happiness as a human right also includes one very important corollary: any person, thing, or relationship that makes you unhappy, you have the right to refuse. We live our lives in this world, and in the end, “does this make me feel happy” is the test we use to decide whether something is worth continuing. If your job makes you unhappy, if over the long term you see neither hope nor meaning in it, that is a mismatch. If your relationships make you unhappy, if over the long term they drain you instead of nourishing you, that is also a mismatch. Capitalists have the standing to refuse mismatches — because they do not lack money, they don’t need to endure any relationship for the sake of money. I hope every reader of this book eventually possesses this ability to refuse. This ability is closer to the essence of freedom than any passive income. Let me tell a story I lived through. Once I took my parents to the hospital for a cardiac catheter procedure. This was not a small operation; it involved placing a stent inside a coronary vessel, and the cost was not trivial. When my family and I spoke with the doctor, our position was clear: for anything out-of-pocket, use the best material; don’t worry about the price. This was not showing off. It is the most basic peace of mind for a child — when you have the means to give your parents the best treatment available, there is a kind of solid grounding that nothing else can replace. After the surgery, I took the elevator down to leave the hospital. The doors opened and there was an elderly man inside, hair gray-white, back slightly bent, clutching an old-style cellphone, on a call. The elevator was small, and his voice came clearly into my ear. He was saying to his son on the other end: “This catheter procedure costs hundreds of thousands… never mind, don’t do it, don’t do it. We don’t have the money. Let’s not do it.” His tone carried no grief, only a calm resignation, as if discussing whether to buy something optional, not a procedure that could decide whether he lived or died. The elevator doors closed and we descended; those few seconds of silence weighed more than any words. I never learned what happened to that old man afterwards. But that image burned itself deep into my memory. Money can save lives. That is not an empty phrase. When your parents are lying in a hospital bed and the doctor tells you there is a better treatment option that costs hundreds of thousands out of pocket, can you say “use the best” without

hesitation — that is the most concrete, most naked meaning of wealth. It is not a designer bag, not a luxury car, not bragging rights on social media. It is the ability, at the critical moment, to give the people you love one more option. So when we say “happiness is a human right,” we are not talking about some misty spiritual pursuit. We are talking about a very concrete survival right: the happiness of being able to take care of your family, the happiness of having room to chase your dreams, the happiness of being able to face the unexpected with confidence. Happiness is not a luxury that comes after basic survival is satisfied. It is a right every person should hold from the moment they enter this world. We are not here to suffer; we are here to enjoy life. So — what is your life goal? This question sounds large, but it is the most central question in personal finance. What are you earning money for? If you have no goal, what is the money for? Many people in childhood resolve to become doctors, engineers, or teachers; they grow up, work themselves to the bone, earn relentlessly, and somewhere along the way forget what kind of person they wanted to become, what kind of life they wanted to live. The money in the bank account keeps growing while the person inside keeps shrinking from one repetitive day to the next. That is not personal finance — that is putting the cart before the horse. Money is a tool — a tool for completing your life’s mission. A successful capitalist is never trapped by money, because he knows deeply that money is only a means to a goal. You wouldn’t let yourself be trapped by a hammer; you should not let yourself be trapped by money. Yet most people’s reality is exactly the reverse — they work for money, are driven by money, revolve around money, and ultimately become servants of money rather than masters of it. I want you to think hard about this question: if you had one hundred million U.S. dollars, would your life goal be different? Would your life be different? Maybe your current goal is “travel the world after I retire” — fine, that’s good, but realizing that probably needs only one million USD, not one hundred million. So if you had one hundred million, would new goals emerge? Would you imagine doing something bigger? That is not greed; that is vision. Wealth changes not only your bank balance — it changes the angle at which you see the world, and it changes the boundary of how you perceive your own potential. On the subject of spending, there is a moral dimension that most people have not thought through. Consumption is not a selfish act; consumption is a kind of service. If you go out and eat a meal tonight for $200, that restaurant’s revenue increases by $200. The chef, the wait staff, the dishwasher, the ingredient suppliers — everyone in the chain benefits because you spent. You spend money, you make yourself happy, and at the same time you make the restaurant happy, the staff happy, and you keep the economy turning. Consumption is a kind of morality, a kind of contribution to society. The money you can afford to spend, you should spend; not spending it is immoral — because you are hoarding resources that should be flowing, slowing down the whole economic system through your stinginess.

Of course, the operative phrase is “money you can afford.” I am not encouraging blind consumption or extravagance beyond your means. I am saying that when you have the ability to let yourself and your family enjoy life, do not deprive yourself out of a “frugal virtue” you were taught as a child. There is nothing wrong with frugality itself, but if you take frugality so far that it damages your life quality and your family’s happiness, frugality becomes another form of poverty — poverty of the spirit. Many Asians live by this pattern: work yourself to death, save yourself to death, refuse to spend a cent, take on three jobs at once, squeeze yourself and your family until no one can breathe. This mindset is itself a product of being domesticated; it is the mindset that capitalism most wants you to have — because the more frugal and driven you are, the more surplus value you produce, and the fatter the capitalist’s profit becomes. The life we are after is not this. The life we are after is: no regrets about the past, deep happiness in the present, hope for the future. To reach this state, the first step is cognition — knowing that happiness is your right, not a luxury; the second step is action — using the right method to make money work for you, instead of working for money; the third step is enjoyment — knowing how to spend, knowing how to be happy, knowing how to use wealth to fulfill your real life’s mission. ───────────────────────────────────────

Key Points

One, happiness is not a luxury that comes after survival needs are met. It is a right every person is born with. Money can save lives at critical moments and give the people you love one more option — that is the most concrete, most irreplaceable meaning of wealth. Two, money is the tool for fulfilling life’s mission, not life’s purpose. You must first think through what your life goal is, then use wealth to achieve it. Personal finance without a goal turns you into a servant of money, not its master. Three, consumption is a kind of morality and a kind of social service. Every dollar you spend drives the economic loop and benefits other people. Spend what you can afford. Excessive frugality is poverty of the spirit, and a product of a mind domesticated by capitalism.

2. Happiness Is a Human Right