My mother-in-law Faye Striftis Kalesperis passed away earlier this month. Faye spent most of the first three decades of her life in and around the city of Corinth, Greece, and used to boast that she immigrated to America "by TWA, honey" (that is, not on a crowded ship with the hoi polloi). She became a naturalized American citizen and, for more than 20 years, taught the Greek language at a parochial elementary school in the southern Chicago suburbs; the last decade of her life was spent in a Grecian-themed nursing home in the northern Chicago suburbs; the fact that many of the staff spoke Greek must have been a great comfort to her in final years.
Seneca (like all of the Stoics that I have read) believed that every human being was first and foremost a citizen of the world. In the twenty-eighth letter to Lucilius, for example, Seneca reminds his friend -- "We should live with this conviction: 'I was not born in any one spot; my homeland is this entire world.'" More to the point are the following remarks of Epictetus, a former Greek slave who opened his own school of Stoic philosophy several decades after Seneca's death:
"If what philosophers say about the kinship of God and man is true, then the only logical step is to do as Socrates did, never replying to the question of where he was from with, 'I am Athenian,' or 'I am from Corinth,' but always, 'I am a citizen of the world.' ... But anyone who knows how the whole universe is administered knows that the first, all-inclusive state is the government composed of God and man. ... So why not call ourselves citizens of the world ... ?"
Faye was proud of the legacy bequeathed to Western civilization by the ancient Greeks, and she was proud to be a naturalized citizen of the United States. In contemporary American politics, unfortunately, immigration has become a controversial and divisive issue. However, we would do well to remember the cosmopolitan teachings of the Stoics.
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Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 28, 4, page 97.
Epictetus, Discourses and Selected Writings, Translated and Edited by Robert Dobbin (Penguin Classics, London, 2008), Discourses, Book I, 9, 1-6, pages 24-25.
Showing posts with label Socrates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Socrates. Show all posts
Monday, November 26, 2018
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
14: What Should The Wise Person Avoid?
As noted in my post of 3/18/18 ("An Artist At Friend-Making"), I agree with much but not all of the advice that Seneca dispenses in his letters to Lucilius. Another example of a passage that troubles me is the following from the fourteenth letter:
"Even so, let us avoid not only danger but also discomfort, as much as we can, and retreat into safety, constantly devising ways of keeping away the objects of fear. If I am not mistaken, those objects are of three kinds. We fear poverty; we fear disease; and we fear the violent deeds of those more powerful than ourselves. Among all these, the one that has most impact on us is the threat from another's power, for this arrives with a great deal of noise and activity. ... Imagine here the jail, the cross, the rack, the hook ... the limbs torn apart by chariots driven in different directions ... and everything else that savagery has devised. ... Let us therefore make an effort to avoid giving offense. At one time it is the populace we have to fear; at another, if the state is ruled in such a way that the senate has charge of most matters, the men of most influence there; at another, individuals in whom is vested the power of the people and over the people. To have all these as friends would require much effort: it is enough if we do not have them as enemies. Thus the wise person will never provoke the anger of those in power, but will steer clear of it, just as one steers clear of a storm at sea. ... The wise person ... avoids the power that will do him harm, being cautious all along not to be seen avoiding it. For this too is part of safety, to be circumspect in pursuing it, since evasive action amounts to condemnation."
This advice is puzzling for at least two reasons. First, in many of his letters, Seneca holds the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates out as a "role model" (to use a modern phrase) for others to emulate. However, Socrates spent most of his life interrogating fellow Athenians, many of whom were powerful politicians who did not appreciate his relentless questions. Eventually, Socrates was put on trial -- and convicted and sentenced to death -- for repeatedly provoking the anger of those in power (although technically he was charged with corrupting the young and not believing in the gods of the city).
Second, Seneca himself had a long and high-profile career in Roman public life, which was full of ups and downs. As old age approached, Seneca attempted to retire to his estates and focus on writing. But in one of the great ironies of classical western history, the Emperor Nero -- who Seneca was recalled from exile to tutor during the former's youth -- ended up sentencing his former teacher to death. Ultimately, Seneca was permitted to commit suicide and decided to take hemlock (the same poison that Socrates had consumed).
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References:
Plato and Aristophanes, Four Texts on Socrates, Translated with Notes by Thomas G. West and Grace Starry West (Cornell University Press, Ithaca and London, 1984), pages 16-24, discussing Plato's Apology of Socrates.
Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 14, 3-8, pages 56-57.
"Even so, let us avoid not only danger but also discomfort, as much as we can, and retreat into safety, constantly devising ways of keeping away the objects of fear. If I am not mistaken, those objects are of three kinds. We fear poverty; we fear disease; and we fear the violent deeds of those more powerful than ourselves. Among all these, the one that has most impact on us is the threat from another's power, for this arrives with a great deal of noise and activity. ... Imagine here the jail, the cross, the rack, the hook ... the limbs torn apart by chariots driven in different directions ... and everything else that savagery has devised. ... Let us therefore make an effort to avoid giving offense. At one time it is the populace we have to fear; at another, if the state is ruled in such a way that the senate has charge of most matters, the men of most influence there; at another, individuals in whom is vested the power of the people and over the people. To have all these as friends would require much effort: it is enough if we do not have them as enemies. Thus the wise person will never provoke the anger of those in power, but will steer clear of it, just as one steers clear of a storm at sea. ... The wise person ... avoids the power that will do him harm, being cautious all along not to be seen avoiding it. For this too is part of safety, to be circumspect in pursuing it, since evasive action amounts to condemnation."
This advice is puzzling for at least two reasons. First, in many of his letters, Seneca holds the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates out as a "role model" (to use a modern phrase) for others to emulate. However, Socrates spent most of his life interrogating fellow Athenians, many of whom were powerful politicians who did not appreciate his relentless questions. Eventually, Socrates was put on trial -- and convicted and sentenced to death -- for repeatedly provoking the anger of those in power (although technically he was charged with corrupting the young and not believing in the gods of the city).
Second, Seneca himself had a long and high-profile career in Roman public life, which was full of ups and downs. As old age approached, Seneca attempted to retire to his estates and focus on writing. But in one of the great ironies of classical western history, the Emperor Nero -- who Seneca was recalled from exile to tutor during the former's youth -- ended up sentencing his former teacher to death. Ultimately, Seneca was permitted to commit suicide and decided to take hemlock (the same poison that Socrates had consumed).
_______________
References:
Plato and Aristophanes, Four Texts on Socrates, Translated with Notes by Thomas G. West and Grace Starry West (Cornell University Press, Ithaca and London, 1984), pages 16-24, discussing Plato's Apology of Socrates.
Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 14, 3-8, pages 56-57.
Sunday, February 25, 2018
7: The Un-Wisdom Of Crowds
I want to begin by apologizing to my readers for the unusual length of time between posts. My job search -- discussed in my 12/11/17 post ("Philosophers And Bathroom Attendants") -- is finally over, at least for the time being. I recently started a position as a contract lawyer, reviewing documents in a large antitrust case. In order to prepare myself for this project, which may last six months, I had to brush up on the basics of the rules of evidence (particularly relevancy and privileges), which I had not focused on since law school.
But now back to Seneca. In the seventh letter to his friend Lucilius, Seneca relates a recent experience that deeply disturbed him. Apparently, he decided to the see the noontime show at an arena -- the Colosseum would not open until 80 AD/CE, 15 years after Seneca's death -- hoping for amusement. Instead, he found carnage. It seems that criminals were given lethal weapons and then ordered to fight to the death for the crowd's pleasure. Unlike gladiators, who typically fought with helmets and shields, the prisoners had no protective gear. As more blood flowed, the spectators became more excited and more blood-thirsty. Seneca told Lucilius:
"Do you ask what you should avoid more than anything else? A crowd. It is not yet safe for you to trust yourself to one. ... [C]ontact with the many is harmful to us. Every single person urges some fault upon us, or imparts one to us, or contaminates us without our even realizing it. Without doubt, the larger the group we associate with, the greater the danger. Nothing, though, is as destructive to good character as occupying a seat in some public spectacle, for then the pleasure of the sight lets the faults slip in more easily. What do you suppose I mean? Do I come home greedier, more power-hungry, more self-indulgent? Worse than that! I become more cruel and inhumane, just because I have been among humans."
Seneca was not the first or the only classical Western thinker who had a low regard for the masses. The ancient Greek philosopher Plato -- to cite but one example -- never forgave the Athenians for voting to convict and then sentence to death his teacher Socrates in 399 BC/BCE. Seneca closes the letter with the following advice for Lucilius: "Direct your goods inward."
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Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 7, 1-3, pages 34-35; see also 12, page 37.
But now back to Seneca. In the seventh letter to his friend Lucilius, Seneca relates a recent experience that deeply disturbed him. Apparently, he decided to the see the noontime show at an arena -- the Colosseum would not open until 80 AD/CE, 15 years after Seneca's death -- hoping for amusement. Instead, he found carnage. It seems that criminals were given lethal weapons and then ordered to fight to the death for the crowd's pleasure. Unlike gladiators, who typically fought with helmets and shields, the prisoners had no protective gear. As more blood flowed, the spectators became more excited and more blood-thirsty. Seneca told Lucilius:
"Do you ask what you should avoid more than anything else? A crowd. It is not yet safe for you to trust yourself to one. ... [C]ontact with the many is harmful to us. Every single person urges some fault upon us, or imparts one to us, or contaminates us without our even realizing it. Without doubt, the larger the group we associate with, the greater the danger. Nothing, though, is as destructive to good character as occupying a seat in some public spectacle, for then the pleasure of the sight lets the faults slip in more easily. What do you suppose I mean? Do I come home greedier, more power-hungry, more self-indulgent? Worse than that! I become more cruel and inhumane, just because I have been among humans."
Seneca was not the first or the only classical Western thinker who had a low regard for the masses. The ancient Greek philosopher Plato -- to cite but one example -- never forgave the Athenians for voting to convict and then sentence to death his teacher Socrates in 399 BC/BCE. Seneca closes the letter with the following advice for Lucilius: "Direct your goods inward."
_______________
Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 7, 1-3, pages 34-35; see also 12, page 37.
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