Socrates is quoted as saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living” (Plato, Apology, 38a). This dictum is broadly accepted and rarely questioned. But it does raise at least one key question: What, exactly, should we examine in our lives to make them worth living?
It couldn’t be our successes — examining one’s successes as a source of worth is narcissism in a thin disguise. Could it be our failures? Examining failures is a good idea, but not as a source of worth (the benefit of examining failures lies in learning from them ultimately, to avoid repeating them). So, what then is to be examined? As I see it, a key area (if not the key area) to examine in association with making life worth living is one’s system of values.
Values play a central role in the human condition — they inform our choices and shape our relationships. Despite this, the fields of psychology and psychiatry — the disciplines tasked with helping people navigate their inner lives — don’t offer much in the way of a unified, value-focused practical framework. The same is true of society at large: we make a big deal of values (indeed, few topics generate more heat in public discourse), yet one is hard-pressed to find meaningful theoretical or practical guidance about them, which is what this chapter aspires to provide.
Values can be defined as ideas or concepts that attract or repel in the context of a specific role. Think of values as a form of mental magnetism: They are role-specific ideas or concepts that attract or repel. Like magnetic fields, values are invisible — but their effects are readily observable. A person who acts in accordance with their values projects a palpable coherence, even if the values driving it, or more fundamentally, the fact that a value is in play, is unrecognized. A person whose actions violate their values typically projects a dissonance that is equally detectable. We sense the pull and the push long before we can articulate what is pulling or pushing.
While some values appear universal across all roles — life, love, truth, among them — their expression and relative weight are always role-specific.
The distinction between ‘values’ — the topic of this chapter — and the concept of ‘value’ deserves exploration. Since the words are identical while their meanings, though related, are very different, the language is confusing — but it is also revealing: in English, the same word covers both economic worth (e.g., the value of a stock portfolio) and moral worth (e.g., the value of honesty). This overlap is not unique to English. In Latin, valēre — meaning “to be strong, to be worth” — gave rise to both monetary and moral senses across all Romance languages. In Hebrew, a Semitic language, the word for value serves exactly the same dual function.
The presence of the same dual meaning across a broad range of cultures is unlikely to be a semantic quirk; rather, it may be derived from (and thus revealing of) the human mind’s conceptualization of worth.
The relationship between values and attitude (as discussed in the dedicated chapter) deserves noting. Attitude is a brain function — the editor that shapes incoming data before it reaches consciousness. Values are not a brain function; they are a phenomenon — the magnetic pull and push that certain ideas exert within a given role. The degree of compatibility between the two matters: when one’s attitude and one’s value system are aligned, the editing of reality and the pull of one’s values reinforce each other. When they are misaligned, the result is inner tension and, typically, functional problems.
As you doubtlessly noticed, my proposed definition enigmatically links values and roles, which calls for (nay, demands) a closer look at what roles are and how they relate to values. So here goes: As we participate in the human condition, each of us steps in and out of different roles. Some of these roles are major or long-lasting — gender roles, family roles (parent, child, sibling, spouse), social and community roles (friend, neighbor, citizen), professional roles, and hobbyist roles; some are relatively minor or short-lasting, for example I have the roles of a driver and a consumer of classical art, but these roles are active only when I drive my car or visit a museum. Values are central to every role, regardless of its size or prominence. Each role carries its own set of values — role-specific ideas or concepts that the role’s occupant finds attractive or repulsive.
[Sidebar: The concept of boundaries — widely used in psychology and frequently invoked in everyday discourse — is closely related to values and roles. As with so many concepts on our list, most people who use the term would struggle to define it precisely. In the context of this discussion, boundaries are defined by roles, not by values directly. A boundary violation is, at its core, a role confusion — the projection of permissions and expectations from one role onto another. For example, a question I might ask a patient in my role as a psychiatrist could be well within the boundaries of the physician-patient relationship. The same question, directed at the barista serving me coffee, would be a boundary violation — not because the question itself has changed, but because the roles have.]
The most fundamental role any person occupies is the role of a human being. The values associated with this role may include some that are universal and innate: at the attractive pole, life itself, love, and truth are likely candidates; at the repulsive pole, death, suffering, and uncertainty. (The inability to recognize the inherent value of life, for instance, is typically associated with the mental pathology of sociopathy, or antisocial personality disorder (American Psychiatric Association, 2022). The fact that an inherent disregard for the value of life constitutes a pathology suggests that the recognition of life’s value is part of normal brain function — an innate value, not an acquired one.) The values associated with the most fundamental role of being human function as a baseline — present regardless of which specific role one occupies at a given moment.
For each of the roles one occupies, one holds a (more or less clear) image of what the ideal version of that role looks like. This image — the ideal-role blueprint — is composed of the positive and negative values associated with that role. It represents what one aspires to and what one aspires to avoid in that role. The Ideal-Self can be understood as the composite of one’s ideal-role blueprints across all the roles one occupies (as discussed in the Choice Making chapter).
For example, in my role as a psychiatrist, a few of the attractive concepts include the fundamental sameness between my patients and me, self-exposure (in the name of being genuine), refraining from getting lost in my imaginary self-importance, possessing cutting-edge knowledge, and, of course, getting paid. Conversely, examples of repelling concepts include separatism, pretense, adopting a posture of authority over a patient’s experience, ignorance, and working for free (unless I agreed to do so in advance — rare, but not unheard of). These attractions and repulsions, taken together, represent part of my blueprint for the ideal psychiatrist.
It is important to appreciate that even if certain values are universal, their position in the hierarchy is not. The Truth may sit above Life in one person’s hierarchy and below it in another’s. A whistleblower who risks their safety to expose a lie may, in effect, place truth above life. A parent who lies to protect a child has placed life above truth. Neither is wrong. Both are expressions of a value system in which the same (innate) values occupy different positions. The overarching critical point in all of these examples is that the values and their hierarchy are examined.
When we discuss values, we commonly speak of a ‘system of values’ which raises the question — what is the system in a value-system? The system emerges from the organization of values along two nested hierarchies. The first is the hierarchy of one’s roles. As mentioned, not all roles carry equal weight: at any given point in life, some roles are more central to one’s identity and functioning than others. The second is the hierarchy of values within each role — the relative importance attributed to each of the (positive and negative) values in that role. The functional significance of this organization becomes clear in the encounter with “competing values” — the higher-ranked value “wins” the competition and guides the behavioral choice.
The two hierarchies overlap such that the top values of a lower role may “outrank” the bottom values of a higher role. For example, my role as a father is at the top of the hierarchy of my roles (in other words, this is the most important of my roles to me). The highest values in this role are my children’s lives, followed by the value of their pursuit of happiness. Entertaining my children is near the bottom of my paternal value hierarchy — I see a value in it, but not a great one; i.e., it’s important to me, but not all that important. Let’s say that my professional role is the next entry in my role hierarchy. (Note to my wife, on the off chance she is reading this: this is just an example to illustrate the point, not an actual account of my value system.) One of the highest values in my role as a physician is availability to my patients — I value being present when I’m needed (certainly, when I can make a concrete contribution, but I value being available even when I can’t offer much more than just my presence). On occasion, these two values compete — for example, I may have a movie date with one of my children, and just as I am about to leave the house, I get a call from a patient in crisis. When this happens, the professional value “wins the competition” and guides my behavior because, even though it belongs to a lower role on the hierarchy, it is positioned higher than the value of entertaining my children — a low value of a higher role.
It should be noted that when competing values are closely ranked, insight into the hierarchy may not resolve the dilemma — these are the genuinely difficult choices. Even so, having the framework available to work with is considerably better than facing competing values without any systematic method of sorting through them.
The two hierarchies comprising the system — the roles and the values associated with each role — are fluid. The hierarchy of roles changes throughout life, abruptly or gradually. Becoming a parent for the first time, for example, typically amounts to an abrupt insertion of a new role at the top of the hierarchy and a major earthquake in one’s value system. Retirement is another example of an overnight change — a deactivation of a top role that forces reorganization of the system. The hierarchy of values within each role is similarly dynamic, shifting in response to experience, insight, and changing circumstances. For example, the negative value of rejection typically decreases with age, from near-unaffordable around adolescence to near-trivial later on in life.
This is why the call to examine one’s value system (i.e., Socrates’ dictum) is not a one-time philosophical exercise. The system of values changes throughout life — roles are added and removed, hierarchies shift. The system is never static; therefore, its examination is never complete.
The examination Socrates calls for is, at its core, an interrogation of one’s reasons — both for including a value in one’s system and for its specific positioning within it: Why do I hold this value? Why is it positioned above other values in my hierarchy? Am I including it in my value system because of a personally meaningful discovery process, or because everyone in my family or community holds it?
A value held without examination is not necessarily wrong, but it is fragile — it cannot withstand serious challenge because it has no roots in one’s own reasoning. An examined value is fundamentally stronger because one has chosen it rather than merely received it (even if it turns out to be the same value one inherited). Ultimately, the value of our values stems from their examination.
[Sidebar: It is possible to distinguish between types of values — sentimental, aesthetic, ethical, and moral, among others. Sentimental values are entirely personal and nontransferable; hence, I consider them the lowest-level values (if they are values at all). Aesthetic values are more substantial — they are linked to roles and shared to varying degrees within communities. Moral and ethical values appear to occupy the highest tier. A comprehensive hierarchy of value types is outside the scope of this chapter, but the categorical distinction is worth noting: not all values carry the same weight, and examined life implies awareness of the inherent differences.]
Interpersonally, shared value systems support closeness and intimacy; incompatible value systems can be a source of friction and tension. However, sharing our values with others is less important than having them respected (since respect is defined as a recognition of value; withholding respect amounts to devaluing one’s values). That is, when encountering someone whose values differ from our own, the difference itself does not necessarily lead to a conflict — people with very different value systems can, and often do, coexist harmoniously. Friction ignites when one’s values are disrespected and dismissed — when they are treated as unworthy of respect. In my experience, disrespecting a person’s values is far more inflammatory than simply not sharing them.
This distinction matters because it accurately frames much of interpersonal conflict. Much of what appears to be a clash of values is, on closer inspection, a clash over the recognition of values. Two people with different value systems can navigate their differences with relative ease, as long as each recognizes the other’s values as genuinely held and worthy of respect. When one party treats the other’s values as unworthy of respect (e.g., as foolish, childish, or primitive), the conflict escalates from a difference to an insult. The insult is the invalidation; differences in values are easy to tolerate when they are recognized as resulting from different points of view rather than from differences in the ability to recognize validity.
[Sidebar: In my clinical experience, virtually all significant conflicts between partners (in any kind of partnership — personal or professional) ultimately stem from differences in the partners’ value systems. The vast majority of couples therapy, whether or not it is framed this way, is an exercise in identifying and negotiating through values mismatches. A partnership in which the participants respect each other’s values, particularly those they don’t share, has a solid foundation; a partnership in which one or both partners don’t have respect for the other’s values does not.]
As a practical application of the material in this chapter (and a tip of the hat to Socrates), I recommend taking a few minutes every so often to contemplate your value system. It doesn’t need to be very frequent; once every couple of weeks is plenty, and even once every couple of months is considerably better than never. The specific steps to follow are straightforward:
Choose a role in your life, major or minor — it doesn’t matter. It can be a role as central as your gender or professional role, or as peripheral as a distant hobby. Once you have chosen a role, explore the values associated with it by asking: What is attractive to me about functioning in this role? What do I find repulsive in the way this role can be performed? What draws me in, and what pushes me away? Look at your answers — odds are they capture the values (positive and negative, respectively) associated with the role.
Alternatively, you can focus on an imagined ideal version of the role — the best possible way the role can be performed. The imagined ideal is composed of — and thus expresses — the values associated with this role. Ask yourself what makes the ideal version ideal? What qualities does it embody, and what qualities does it categorically avoid? “Reverse-engineering” the ideal into its building blocks can expose the specific values driving it.
Whichever entry point one chooses, the next step is the critical one: for each value that surfaces, ask yourself why. Why is this idea attractive to me? Why is this one repulsive? Is this value here because I discovered it through my own experience and reasoning, or because it was handed to me by my family, my culture, my professional training? The answer doesn’t determine whether the value should be kept or discarded — an inherited value may be perfectly sound. But the act of asking transforms it from something passively received into something actively held. That transformation is the difference between an unexamined value and an examined one, and it is, as Socrates suggested, part of what makes a life worth living.
The concept of values as role-specific ideas that attract and repel finds resonance in several traditions. Confucianism, arguably the most values-centered philosophical tradition, organizes values explicitly around roles — the five key relationships (ruler-subject, parent-child, husband-wife, elder-younger sibling, friend-friend) each carry distinct expectations and virtues. Buddhism, while not using the language of values in the Western sense, addresses similar territory through Right View and Right Intention — the first two factors of the Eightfold Path — which together constitute a value orientation that guides choices and behavior (Bhikkhu Bodhi, 2000). Closer to home, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), the contemporary therapeutic approach most invested in values work, defines values as “chosen life directions” and makes values clarification a core component of treatment (Hayes et al., 1999). Each of these traditions, in its own way, affirms that identifying and living by one’s values is central to human flourishing, i.e., to the pursuit of happiness. What this chapter adds is a structural framework — the role-based organization of values into a dynamic, hierarchical system — and a mechanism for working with it: the ongoing examination that, I think, would gain Socrates’ approval.
Think of values as magnetism in the human mental experience: Values attract and repel invisibly, shaping intrapsychic terrain and interpersonal relationships even when they are unrecognized. Ultimately, the difference between an examined value system and an unexamined one is the degree of agency one has over them. An earned familiarity with one’s value system — which implies its ongoing examination and corresponding updating — can be remarkably useful to understand one’s own process, resolve conflicts (inner and interpersonal), and, perhaps most importantly, protect the quality of one’s choices (as discussed in the Choice Making chapters in both the Theory and Practice sections).
REFERENCES
American Psychiatric Association. (2022). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed., text rev.). American Psychiatric Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.books.9780890425787
Bhikkhu Bodhi (Trans.). (2000). The connected discourses of the Buddha: A translation of the Saṃyutta Nikāya. Wisdom Publications.
Hayes, S. C., Strosahl, K. D., & Wilson, K. G. (1999). Acceptance and commitment therapy: An experiential approach to behavior change. Guilford Press.