In Sir Walter Scott’s swashbuckling historical novel, Rob Roy, the merchant Bailie Jarvie plays an important part by inducing the title character to intervene in the main plot. When his role there is finished, the author bids him adieu with the line, “I do not know that there was any other incident of his quiet and useful life worthy of being particularly recorded.” That is to say, Jarvie was interesting to Scott (and to us readers) as long as he was involved in political, martial, and romantic intrigue. When he returned to the mundane life of a business, there was nothing worth reporting.
So it is with real life. Media coverage focuses on threats, disasters, scandals, and controversies. Political and military events demand attention, as do the personal lives and opinions of celebrities in the fields of entertainment and sports. Even within the field of business, it’s the stars who get the attention. Books are written about big personalities at the top of big companies—the brash, the quirky, or the simply too important to ignore: Jack Welch, Lee Iacocca, Steve Jobs, Warren Buffett, Bill Gates. Or, to reach the very top of the media circus, the combination of flashy business and populist politics: Donald Trump.
Meanwhile, important activities and developments in the more quotidian domains of life go largely unnoticed. This problem is to some extent natural and unavoidable, a result of media consumer demand. Most people just aren’t that interested in an advance that makes a car engine more efficient, an invention that makes a lift truck safer to use, or a new technique that makes grain farming more productive.
We can see this phenomenon reflected even in the Gospels, which largely pass over the decades of Jesus’ home life—the daily work—to bring us the drama of his birth, passion, death, and resurrection. “Jesus worked with his hands in daily contact with the matter created by God, to which he gave form by his craftsmanship,” Pope Francis writes in Laudato Si’ (2015). “It is striking that most of his life was dedicated to this task in a simple life which awakened no admiration at all.… In this way, he sanctified human labor.” When Jesus did emerge into public life, people were skeptical and asked, “Is not this the carpenter?” What did they have to learn from this local boy who pounded wood and lacked wealth, status, and education? “And they took offense at him” (Mk. 6: 2–3).
We need to remind ourselves that it’s the people involved in day-to-day work, not politicians and entertainers, who really make the world go round. Sometimes, we’re forced to remember: for example, when COVID knocks out workers at a few meat processing plants and the price of beef skyrockets. The people putting food on our table, keeping our utilities working, building our homes, and feeding, clothing, and teaching the next generation are living “quiet and useful” lives. They are not the kinds of lives that attract book or movie deals, but they are indeed very useful.
In the midst of election season and related debates about the president, Congress, and the Supreme Court, it might be good to bear this truth in mind. To keep society running smoothly, what is really needed is millions of people doing their daily duty: putting in the work (paid or not) that supports themselves and their families and creates the goods and services to enable others to do the same. Political officials and the policies they make are important only indirectly because they can make that daily life more or less burdensome. The public drama is in politics, but the real action is in the office, the factory, and the home.
