René Descartes famously concluded “I think, therefore I am”, but who has heard the phrase “we suffer, therefore we think”? The phrase originates with French novelist Marcel Proust, who is considered by critics and writers to be one of the most influential authors of the 20th century.

Now, I’ll immediately admit that I haven’t read Proust’s monumental masterpiece in seven volumes In Search of Lost Time, but having read Alain de Botton’s witty and insightful “self-help book” How Proust Can Change Your Life, I’d say that I know a thing or two about Proust.

At first glance, Proust doesn’t seem to be the most obvious source of insight into how we should live our lives. After all, he was a troubled man suffering from all kinds of physical and psychological ailments. It turns out, however, that there’s a lot we can learn from Proust, especially when being guided by de Botton.

In a chapter called “How to suffer successfully” de Botton explains how Proust thought about the acquisition of true wisdom. For Proust, we don’t really learn anything properly until something fails to go as we hoped. We become properly inquisitive only when distressed. Hence the phrase “we suffer, therefore we think”, and we do so “because thinking helps us to place pain in context, it helps us to understand its origins, plot its dimensions, and reconcile ourselves to its presence”.

According to Proust, it follows that ideas which have arisen without pain lack an important source of motivation. Mental activities can thus be divided into two categories. On the one hand, there are “painless thoughts”, sparked by no particular discomfort, e.g. having a disinterested wish to find out how sleep works. On the other hand, there are “painful thoughts”, arising out of a distressing inability to do something, e.g. not being able to sleep due to insomnia.

With all that in mind, Proust describes two methods by which a person can acquire wisdom: Painlessly, via a teacher, or painfully, via life. It comes as no surprise that Proust preferred the latter method.

In my opinion, the idea that you’d have to go through some form of personal hell in order to produce anything of value, be it thoughts or actions, is simultaneously both powerful and ridiculous.

It’s powerful because there’s a grain of truth in the idea. Just look at the masterpieces in art and music and you’ll notice that a fair amount of what we praise has been created by an artist in misery. The same goes for changes in our personal lives. For most of us it’s hard to make dramatic changes in our lives, without there being some level of suffering as a catalyst, for example sickness, sorrow, or financial distress. Indeed pain and suffering can be a powerful motivator for change or creativity.

But it’s also a ridiculous idea, because clearly humans have been able to make fantastic progress, even without always having endured suffering. In many professions, say within medicine or finance, we’re constantly able to think creatively and act efficiently, despite not being propelled by personal misery. Clearly pain and suffering are not the only sources for motivation, although they probably were for Proust himself.

When I think about myself, most of what I’ve achieved so far has been without any significant personal suffering. And I don’t think my life has been a complete waste of time so far. Then again, Proust might point out that actually, when analyzing critically, I haven’t achieved anything truly remarkable yet, and whatever might make me worth remembering afterwards will require first surviving some form of trial by fire.