Adam Smith once described what he called “the vile maxim of the masters of mankind”: All for ourselves, and nothing for other people.
Noam Chomsky often cites the line to name a pattern that repeats across history: Those with power quietly arranging systems to serve themselves first, while presenting the outcome as natural, inevitable, or even virtuous. The maxim isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It operates through defaults.
That’s the part worth paying attention to—because the same dynamic shows up much closer to home.
Not in markets or governments. In our calendars, our task managers, and in the quiet way we let our to-do lists take over.
When the List Becomes the Master
Most people talk about their to-do list as if it were an external authority:
- “My list is out of control.”
- “My tasks keep piling up.”
- “The system just doesn’t work.”
But lists don’t accumulate on their own. They don’t demand, don’t decide, and certainly don’t prioritize.
We do.
And yet, many of us slowly abdicate that role.
We start treating the list as if it knows better than we do—what matters, what’s urgent, what deserves our attention. We obey it reflexively. We serve it. And we clear it to feel virtuous, even when the work itself is hollow.
That’s when the maxim flips. The list becomes the “master,” and we become its labor.
The Personal Version of the Vile Maxim
Here’s the uncomfortable inversion: When we let our to-do lists dictate our days without reflection, we recreate a smaller, quieter version of the same logic Smith warned about.
Not all for ourselves, but all for the system. All for efficiency. All for completion. Nothing for discernment.
The list optimizes for throughput, not meaning. It rewards movement, not direction. It doesn’t care whether the work aligns with your values—only that it gets checked off.
And like any master, it’s perfectly happy to take more than it gives.
Reclaiming Mastery (Without Burning the System Down)
This isn’t an argument against to-do lists. It’s an argument for governance.
A good list is a servant. A bad list is a sovereign. The difference isn’t the tool—it’s the posture.
Being the master of your to-do list means:
- Deciding what deserves to be captured—and what doesn’t
- Revisiting commitments instead of blindly honoring past versions of yourself
- Letting intention precede action, and reflection follow it
It means remembering that you are the authority that grants tasks their legitimacy in the first place. The moment you forget that, the maxim quietly returns.
The Quiet Act of Refusal
Refusing to abdicate control of your to-do list isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t look like rebellion. It looks like asking better questions:
- Why is this here?
- Who does this actually serve?
- What happens if this doesn’t get done?
That kind of pause is subversive in a culture that worships busyness. And it’s deeply human.
Adam Smith wasn’t only writing about markets. He was writing about power. And power, whether global or personal, always reveals itself in who decides—and who merely reacts.
Your to-do list will gladly decide for you. Unless you remember who the master is.
