Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life

While not strictly a couples’ therapist, Peterson has done clinical work with some couples. Working with one couple who had become quite unhappy in their marriage, he suggested that they go on a date in order to relearn the skills of romantic attachment. That date might go horribly, Peterson told them, but if they commit to the habit, those romantic habits might develop in spite of everything—as in fact they did. Peterson argues that it is critical to keep the romance alive, creating experiences in which “both become better than they were and “receive that experience as a gift” from one another (269). While sexual attraction is a good foundation, ultimately a marriage or other long-term partnership depends on negotiating a host of needs. Helpful negotiation in turn depends upon trust that the other person is acting in good faith and has their partner’s best interests at heart. Cultivating such skills is useful not just for a good partnership, but for a happy life. 

Peterson uses the example of a couple who jointly lit a candle during their wedding ceremony, symbolizing “voluntary subordination to this higher-order principle of illumination” (275). Marriage is extremely challenging—vows double as a threat of “we are not getting rid of each other, no matter what” (276)—and being jointly subject to all the stresses of life is bound to cause tensions and disagreements. Either people learn to negotiate or they will be bitter enemies. Negotiating is very difficult, and there is often a temptation to push it off and just accede to someone else’s wishes (or impose one’s own), but Peterson finds that the options for marriage are “negotiation, tyranny, or slavery” (281). The latter two are easier, but only the first will result in a successful marriage. There will be temptations, perhaps to have an affair as a means of finding satisfaction elsewhere, but these are fleeting pleasures that will ultimately cause ruin. Another poor substitute is cohabitation, living together without the promise of a permanent commitment, as it burns valuable time that could be used to secure that permanent commitment.

In trying to keep romance alive, there are practical considerations with respect to managing a household (particularly if there are children), and a lot of communication will revolve around quotidian tasks. But there are countless little ways to sneak romance in, from greeting someone warmly upon their coming home, and finding ways to communicate sexual attraction, such as buying lingerie. This is all difficult in the context of a busy and challenging life, but a long-term commitment is another version of the higher life that offers immense rewards to those willing to take up the requisite responsibilities.

Every new day begins with limitless possibility. Before someone awakes to full consciousness, reality itself is a pure potentiality, a story yet to be written. The story of life might seem like the same tale told day after day, but children also have the same tendency to engage with the same stories every day (for Peterson’s son, it was Pinocchio). Stories, especially fairy tales, help us accept the idea that anything is possible, and there is a remarkable similarity between the logic of fairy tales and the way children perceive the world, for whom every new encounter is a seemingly miraculous wonder. “You are built, neurologically, to interpret the world in this dramatic manner, at a very deep level” (315). Human beings also encounter nature as both beautiful and dangerous, orderly and chaotic, the witch and the fairy godmother. Disney villains (often female) “represent the harsh element of the natural world” (320), and the young maidens they imperil have not developed the courage to face down the terrors of nature. He describes a client who likewise had a perfectly happy childhood, only to develop a paralyzing fear of the outside world in her adolescence. She described a dream in which she walked into a forest and a dwarf told her that she would have to work in a slaughterhouse. In response, she decided to witness an embalming at a funeral home, and she was surprisingly calm after having expected to be terrified. “Had she not demonstrated to herself that she could encounter the worst that Terrible nature could throw at her and face it courageously?” (328). 

The Wise King and the Authoritarian Tyrant represent another key dichotomy, this time from within the framework of culture rather than nature. Peterson argues that liberals tend to see the world in terms of tyrants squelching the beauty of the Fairy Godmother, while conservatives see the Wise King restraining the evil witch. Both types are necessary, however, to balance the harshness and gentility which are part of every social order. Similar dichotomies are present within the soul as well. The political system of the United States was founded on the idea that human beings are flawed and that it is better to try to mitigate those flaws than to aim in vain for a utopia. 

Returning to the question of resentment, which he briefly raised at the start of the chapter, Peterson acknowledges that the world is often disorderly as the various archetypes (witch, godmother, king, tyrant) push and pull against one another, and those who have suffered injustices may believe that the world is configured against them. People are going to be hurt by life, but to succumb to resentment is only going to make everything worse. “The hope is that you can conduct yourself in a manner that tilts things [toward improvement]. That is all we have—and it is much better than nothing” (343). In other cases, people will deceive themselves and others to try to seize on the chaos of life for their own benefit, believing that the wrongs they have suffered justify doing wrong to others. Peterson considers this a form of arrogance, a “rejection of the relationship between divinity, truth, and goodness” (344). Such arrogance is nothing other than a rationale to misbehave further, confirming the very grievances that spurred the actions in the first place. Alternately, people may plead ignorance and try not to engage with the hard responsibilities of life, which as Peterson mentions in previous chapters, makes any improvement impossible. Arrogance and deceit are similar to addiction, a seemingly self-serving behavior that only traps someone in a vicious cycle of self-justification rather than purposeful action. The world of course imposes terrible burdens, but only strong habits of mind and spirit have any hope of keeping those demons at bay.

While suffering is inevitable, Peterson believes that human beings hold the potential to transcend it, especially by confronting it head-on. Doing so builds courage and allows one to see a light of hope when it might otherwise be invisible. Gratitude—being thankful for what one has no matter the difficulties one encounters in life—facilitates this transcendence of suffering. People are drawn to representations of evil because everyone sees within themselves the capacity for immoral behavior. One of the quickest pathways to evil is the feeding of resentment, as the devil is the ultimate “adversary” (358) that defines itself against, rather than on behalf of anything positive. Suffering can easily lead to despair—even Jesus asked God why he had forsaken his son while on the cross—but for Peterson, despair is ultimately a betrayal of those to whom one owes obligations. As terrible as one’s suffering might be, someone is likely in a position to make things better, if only slightly, and they are morally compelled to do so. He takes some solace in the idea that Thanksgiving has become such a major celebration in the United States, a holiday explicitly dedicated to the idea of expressing joy and appreciation in the company of family and friends. For Peterson, there is a profound connection between courage and love, because it takes courage to love someone, knowing that they may suffer or die. “It is within the frame of that impossible undertaking—that decision to love—that courage manifests itself, enabling each person who adopts the courageous pathway to do the difficult things that are necessary to act for the good in even the worst of times” (370). To be grateful is to cherish that which will inevitably be lost. Rather than let the universality of suffering be a cause for despair, it ought to inspire appreciation for the moments of joy and love that occur amidst a world characterized by so much suffering.