Embrace the virtue of vice
I am by no means suggesting we all go grab a carton of cigarettes, an eight ball of cocaine and settle down with a bottle of gin, but...
“Smoking is one of the greatest and cheapest enjoyments in life, and if you decide in advance not to smoke, I can only feel sorry for you.”
— Sigmund Freud
Consider me an apologist for the responsible indulgence of vice.
Of course, “responsible” is a pretty subjective term. What Hunter S. Thompson considered to be an appropriate amount of intoxication, for example, is probably a touch too extreme for us mere amateurs. After all, he once quipped “I drink alcohol like I smoke cigarettes; I don't even notice it.”
He also died at 67 years old.
However, even if his overindulgence was a liability to his health, it’s hard to argue it held him back in life. Thanks in large part to the way he viewed his penchant for intoxication, the man left a pretty remarkable impression on the cultural fabric of 20th Century America. Maybe, like the very men who founded our nation in the first place, his raucous ways weren’t a flaw — they were central to what made him a giant of his time.
I am by no means suggesting we all go grab a carton of cigarettes, an eight ball of cocaine and settle down with a bottle of gin — but certainly there’s value to be had in occasionally (maybe even regularly) enjoying the sort of selfish pleasures society so often eschews as harmful, dangerous or uncouth.
Pouring a cocktail, lighting a cigar or otherwise soothing the implacable lust for a little self-destructive intoxicant might even be necessary to our wellbeing from time to time.
I was reminded of this possibility recently when, as it often does, my smartwatch mistook my cigar smoking for exercise and sent an encouraging notification telling me “Great work! Keep it up!”
Sometimes, technology gets it wrong in highly entertaining ways.
Apparently, cutting a cigar, rolling it through the flame and contemplatively puffing on it looks remarkably like going for a healthy jog to the little piece of tech kit that monitors my heart rate, movement and pulse. And who am I to argue? Indeed, maybe we should count our little self-gratifying vices as exercises of some sort. As I’ve written before:
Adulthood is about evaluating risk, making compromises, and pursuing the things that add value to the brief flash of time we spend on this mortal coil — and if that means tipping back more bottles of liquor than the FDA deems advisable or tasting the warm smoke of a hand-rolled cigar, then so be it. If that cold martini makes one feel civilized, if the sting of a cigarette comforts the soul, maybe it has some virtue after all.
This isn’t to say all vice is admirable. The junkie getting his fix in an alleyway or a smoker sucking down a Marlborough in hasty desperation for the fleeting thrill of nicotine isn’t exactly something worth celebrating. However, for those who are passionate about a habit toward which polite society scoffs, there’s something beyond the physical intoxication or chemical reaction that warms the soul and delivers peace.
Cigars, for example, are one of those types of worldly pleasures that allows us to fully grasp just how much god loves us and wants us to be happy. The sweet touch of nicotine against the lips, the ritual of gently nurturing it as it slowly burns away, the billowing smoke that engulfs the atmosphere around us… the entire experience is more akin to a Zen-like meditation than a tobacco habit — and I fully understand what Mark Twain meant when he said if Heaven doesn’t allow smoking, he’s “not interested” in going.
Even non-smokers ought to be able to understand the little miracles of life that can be gleamed by such a vice. It’s not merely the smoke, aromas, textures and taste that make the art of smoking a cigar an enjoyable experience — it’s virtually everything ancillary to it. It’s the ritual, the escape from daily distractions and the subtle evolution of flavor that comes from the warming tobacco leaves as smoke is filtered through the fillers.
Most importantly, it's the understanding that you are part of some obscure, loosely connected community of individuals engaged in such rituals and nuance — from the farmer in Nicaragua who carefully harvested the plant to the hands that expertly rolled the wrapper around a bunch of filler leaves, there have been countless artisans, aficionados, enthusiasts and tradespeople who share your enthusiasm for the handmade moment of self-indulgence you’re about to enjoy.
And, ironically, such moments of self-indulgence can actually generate a strange social connectiveness between even the most diverse or disparate individuals. There’s almost nothing that disarms the disagreeable in this world faster than sharing a couple of cigars while throwing back a few expertly crafted martinis.
Maybe that’s the reason political deals and corporate negotiations used to take place in “smoke filled” back rooms and in smoke-stained taverns. It had less to do with nicotine and alcohol as a social lubricant than it did with providing a baseline of commonality among those who otherwise disagree in life. After all, it’s far more difficult to harbor deep contempt for someone who happens to share your good taste for quality tobacco than it is to despise a random avatar on social media who spews moronic opinions your way.
To be sure, partaking in vice isn’t the only way to generate similar connectiveness and pleasure from the world around us. There are limitless examples of individuals with far healthier shared passions finding commonality with their fellow man.
Simply look at the diverse, disparate and varied peoples who regularly befriend each other at Comicon conventions, gun shows, art galleries or tattoo shops. As it turns out, human beings are hardwired to group themselves with “likeminded” individuals — and in the right context, we’re pretty willing to consider someone with even tenuous interest in our passions as someone of like mind.
However, the mere existence of alternative methods for enriching our lives shouldn’t preclude the less socially acceptable methods by default — especially when it seems the more licentious methods are simply more fun.
And make no mistake: they are more fun. That’s why the cultural scolds and nannycrats in modern society often have a difficult time regulating such perverse behavior out of existence.
Perhaps part of that potency comes from the romanticism we’ve come to culturally associate with our favorite vices. For example, Lauren Becall seductively lighting her cigarette with Bogart’s matches is an infinitely sexier way to begin an affair than sharing a kale and arugula salad. Similarly, there’s something just “not right” about toasting the bride and groom with apple juice rather than champagne, or handing out sticks of bubblegum to championship athletes rather than boxes of Cuban cigars.
With such romanticism, no wonder the uptight squares feel they have to use the heavy hand of government to regulate us all into “healthy, organic and pure” lives devoid of intoxicants, poisons and… well, and fun.
Even beyond the romance, “responsible” vice deserves a robust defense mounted by free thinkers, individualists and those who relish the liberal concept of personal autonomy. One doesn’t have to smoke tobacco, sip cocktails or love red velvet cake to understand the liberation and individual autonomy such debauchery represents.
And maybe that’s the greatest argument of all to be made in defense of our socially-questionable personal pleasures: Such vices represent freedom itself.
As Anthony Bourdain once quipped in response to a barrage of propaganda for cleaner living: “Healthy, organic and pure… You’ll notice by the way, anytime you hear the word ‘purity’ come up too often in conversation, the sound of jackboots can’t be far behind.”
Of course, none of this is to say “healthy” living is worthy of scorn or that we should all pursue our gluttonous impulses with reckless abandon. As I’ve explained before, it’s important for our wellbeing (both physical and mental) to remain vigilant against such impulses devolving into addictions — a vigilance that inherently calls for some degree of restraint.
Besides, it’s entirely possible that Lululemon-clad yuppies sipping their soy lattes at their local yoga studio find just as much pleasure listening to their favorite podcast while “planking” as us degenerates derive from indulging our vices.
But it seems unlikely.
Michael Schaus is a communications and branding expert based in Las Vegas, Nevada, and founder of Schaus Creative LLC — an agency dedicated to helping organizations, businesses and activists tell their story and motivate change.
