Is Pleasure Worth Pursuing?
Is it right to take pleasure‑seeking as the goal of life? In other words, is pleasure something we should advocate? The question may sound frivolous, as if we are just making excuses for indulgence. Yet in the history of philosophy, hedonism has been the subject of serious, in‑depth debates.
Hedonism is an ethical doctrine holding that pleasure is the highest good in human life, while pain is the greatest evil. It argues that behind all human behaviours lies one fundamental motive: the desire to attain pleasure.
There are, however, two distinct forms of hedonism.
The first is sensory hedonism, which advocates seizing the moment for enjoyment. Life is short, so we ought to embrace every experience that brings immediate gratification. Its representative figure is Aristippus. He believed suppressing pleasure amounts to betraying human nature, and that savouring present‑day joy is what matters most. Chasing fleeting, intense pleasures through reckless excess and indulgence can nevertheless easily lead to loss of self‑control and inner emptiness.
The second form is rational hedonism, namely Epicureanism. It is one of the most significant and widely misunderstood schools of hedonism in philosophical history, with Epicurus as its leading thinker. For him, lasting genuine pleasure comes from mental tranquillity and the absence of physical suffering. The pleasure he valued is not mere sensory gratification, but the joy born of reason, temperance and inner peace.
His philosophy of happiness carries strong practical relevance: being adequately fed is enough; extravagant feasts are unnecessary. Cherishing time with friends matters far more than status and fame. Put in modern terms, Epicurus embodied someone who knows when to curb desires, keeps emotional stability, and lives with both restraint and ease.
Even today, when hedonism is mentioned, stereotypes such as debauchery, self‑indulgence and irresponsibility immediately spring to mind. In modern society, though, what truly drains people is not pleasure itself, but endless rat‑race competition, anxiety and harsh self‑criticism. We do not need to glorify suffering. Moderate enjoyment is a right granted to us by our highly productive society. Pleasure is no original sin; it is exhaustion that deserves our reflection.
In an age of information overload and runaway desires, Epicureanism acts as a gentle form of rebellion. Instead of giving in to cravings, we let go of unnecessary obsessions, preserve inner calm amid chaos, and learn contentment amid the urge to crave more.
Take this example: a young graduate rents an apartment after finishing university. The room is tiny, and some parts of the wall are even mouldy. Still, he happily arranges this little space of his own. Though he longs for high‑end bedding, he resists impulsive spending and chooses an affordable set instead. That night, lying on his own bed for the first time, he feels profound serenity. Noise from his flat‑mate’s video games, neon light from outside the window, the glow of an ordinary light bulb and the low hum of the air‑conditioner cannot disturb his peace of mind.
He posts on social media: “I live in a humble place right now, yet I can eat well, bathe well and sleep well — and that is already happiness.”
This illustrates rational hedonism. He is not brainwashed by consumerism that demands only the best. He makes sensible, adequate choices. He avoids mindless comparison, refuses to tie the beauty of life to the price of possessions, and actively seeks happiness within his limited circumstances.