Jordan Peterson’s third rule in his book 12 Rules for Life–Make Friends with People Who Want the Best for You–reflects the concerns of every parent for their child as soon as they get into junior high and high school: you don’t want your child to “get into the wrong crowd.” We all realize, because we’ve all been there, that friends are extremely influential in your life. Therefore, we hope that our child finds good friends that will have a positive impact on his/her life. I consider myself extremely fortunate in this regard. I had a handful of close friends on my street growing up, I had a very good circle of friends in high school, and I met two of my closest friends in graduate school. Thanks to Facebook, I am able to keep in contact with pretty much all of them. And so, in this regard Peterson’s third rule is one I feel I’ve kept pretty much for most of my life.
Peterson begins the chapter with a story of some hometown friends of his named Chris, Carl, and Ed. Long story short, even though they all grew up in similar situations, Peterson was able to eventually make something of his life, whereas Chris, Carl, and Ed utterly ruined their lives. Eventually, Peterson had to make the conscious decision to cut ties with them because of their self-destructive ways. After telling the story, Peterson wonders why some people seem so incapable of or unwilling to make their lives better, and instead make it their life’s goal to blame everything and everyone else for their own pitiful state. It’s as if some people are simply bent on their own destruction and want to take everyone down with them. Along with that, Peterson then gets to the focal point of the chapter: “How will you choose to deal with people like that in your life?”
Some Cold, Hard Truth
Let’s be honest: some people simply want to play the victim for their entire lives. To put a poetic spin on this, we can consider Edwin Arlington Robinson’s famous poem, “Miniver Cheevy.” The poem starts out this way:
Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.
Then, in the bulk of the poem, we find him longing for the days of Camelot and chivalry and greatness. Yet in the last stanza we find out a little more about Miniver Cheevy:
Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.
Simply put, Miniver Cheevy is the kind of guy who is always looking to blame others for his lot in life, and yet is unwilling to get off his butt to even try to make his life better. He’d much rather drink himself to death. Although there really are victims in this world, people like Cheevy are a different animal. Peterson puts it this way: “But not everyone who is failing is a victim, and not everyone at the bottom wishes to rise, although many do, and many manage it. Nonetheless, people will often accept or even amplify their own suffering, as well as that of others, if they can brandish it as evidence of the world’s injustice” (76).
In addition to people like that, Peterson also notes that there are other people who seem inexplicably drawn to people like Miniver, and they always seem to have friends who are constantly dragging down everyone with them. We sometimes see such a dynamic in romantic relationships and marriages: the old “I think I can rescue that person” sort of thing. If that describes you, Peterson challenges you to ask yourself what your real motivation is for trying to save that person. Yes, it is possible that you are simply a strong and generous person who really wants to do the right thing. But equally possible (and this might be hard to admit), maybe you just want other people to see you as a compassionate person, or “maybe it’s because it’s easier to look virtuous when standing alongside someone utterly irresponsible” (79).
Obviously trying to help someone who is down on his/her luck is often a virtuous thing, but Peterson’s advice boils down to this: don’t let yourself be taken advantage of. Maybe that person has been really wronged and really wants to get out of the hard circumstance he/she is in—in that case, help away. But maybe that person is unemployed because he never showed up to work, or he did some other stupid thing for which he was totally responsible; maybe, when it gets right down to it, that person is a Miniver Cheevy—in that case, you need to realize that you shouldn’t waste your time with “friends” like that.
Some people might find that to be rather harsh, but Peterson basically says that sometimes the truth hurts. He writes, “Maybe your misery is a demand placed on me so that I fail too, so that the gap you so painfully feel between us can be reduced, while you degenerate and sink. How do I know that you would refuse to play such a game? How do I know that I am not myself merely pretending to be responsible, while pointlessly ‘helping’ you, so that I don’t have to do something truly difficult—and genuinely possible? Maybe your misery is the weapon you brandish in your hatred for those who rose upward while you waited and sank. Maybe your misery is your attempt to prove the world’s injustice, instead of the evidence of your own sin, your own missing of the mark, your conscious refusal to strive and to live” (81).
The sad fact is that there really are some people who would rather blame everything and everyone for their own failures and their own refusals to even try to make something of their lives. And while it is certainly a good thing to try to help someone in dire straits, if it becomes obvious that someone is a Miniver Cheevy, then to stay in that kind of relationship reveals something unhealthy about you too. Peterson puts it this way: “If I stay in an unhealthy relationship with you, perhaps it’s because I’m too weak-willed and indecisive to leave, but I don’t want to know it. Thus, I continue helping you, and console myself with my pointless martyrdom” (81).
A Good Standard
In any case, when it comes to friendships, Peterson offers a fairly basic and common-sense test: “If you have a friend whose friendship you wouldn’t recommend to your sister, or your father, or your son, why would you have such a friend for yourself?” (82). I don’t know about you, but I think that is some pretty good advice.
If anything, the underlying point of Peterson’s third rule is that friendships are important and influential. Bad and toxic friendships are going to inevitably corrupt you and make your life miserable. Good and healthy friendships will encourage you, build you up, and make you a better person—so choose your friends wisely. Good friends will not only encourage you to be a better person, they will also challenge you and call you out if you start doing something that is self-destructive. Simply put, they’ll help keep you in line.
Personally speaking, I know that I have quite a dark side to my personality. I’m divorced, a single parent, and have a natural temperament that is rather solitary and strong-willed. The closest friends I’ve had over the course of my lifetime all live far away from me now. Thank goodness for phones and the internet in that regard. I don’t think I would have survived my divorce if I wasn’t able to call my family and close friends on a fairly constant basis for the better part of two years. They were able to listen to me vent my anger and frustration, and then encourage and challenge me to keep pushing forward.
In any case, life is hard most of the time. That is why having close, healthy friendships is so important—you need support in life, because you can’t always do everything on your own.
