17: Is Poverty Carefree?

     The seventeenth letter to Lucilius discusses another topic on which I have to agree to disagree with Seneca, at least in part. This letter begins with Seneca chiding his friend Lucilius about the latter's decision -- which he justifies by trepidation about poverty -- to continue in the family business and save money for the future rather than retire and devote himself to the study of philosophy. Seneca writes:
          "Trust me: you should make philosophy your advocate. It will persuade you not to linger over your balance sheet. No doubt your aim, the purpose of all your delay, is to ensure that you need not fear poverty. But what if poverty is actually something to pursue? Many have found riches an obstacle to the philosophical life: poverty is untrammeled, carefree. When the trumpet sounds, the poor know that they are not the ones under attack; when the alarm of fire is raised, they look around for the exit, not for their belongings. When a poor person is about to embark, there is no tumult at the harbor, no bustling throng along the beach, attendants all of a single person; no pack of slaves standing around ... . Hunger is cheap; it is the palate that is expensive. Poverty is content to satisfy the immediate wants. Why, then, do you refuse to take as your companion one whose habits it is sensible for the wealthy to imitate? If you want to have time for your mind, you must either be poor or resemble the poor. Study cannot be beneficial without some time for frugality, and frugality is just voluntary poverty. So away with your excuses!"
     I live about a mile away from one of the largest temporary homeless shelters in Chicago, and the residents there are among the least carefree people I have ever seen; rather, they appear to be suffering from chronic stress (among other maladies). Thus, I cannot agree with Seneca's argument that poverty is carefree. Seneca was born into a prosperous provincial family, and by the time he sat down to write the Letters late in his life, he was probably one of the wealthiest men in the Roman Empire; he seems, therefore, to have had no personal experience with poverty. However, in Seneca's defense, it must be noted that he attributed much of his success to good fortune.
     Like Seneca, President Trump was born into prosperous family; like Seneca, Trump went on to build substantial personal wealth (although we do not know exactly how rich he is, because he will not release his income tax returns). But unlike Seneca, Trump attributes his success to "genius" -- instead of admitting that (after being given a head start in life) he has also been very lucky in business, as well as in politics.
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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 17, 2-5, pages 64-65. 

What Insults Reveal About The Person Who Makes Them

     In my previous post, I noted that the Stoic philosopher Epictetus is one of the more interesting figures in Roman history. Another fascinating character is Lucius Annaeus Seneca, who I quoted in my 11/9/17 post on anger.
     We moderns like to think that we are the first complicated individuals in world history, but it would be difficult to find a more complicated person than Seneca. Seneca was born in what is now Corduba, Spain -- by then part of the Roman Empire -- to a prominent local family around 4 BC/BCE. He moved to Rome and pursued a career in politics; that career was full of ups and downs, including everything from service in the Roman Senate to banishment from Rome. The Stoic philosophy that Seneca espoused did not value externals like wealth, but he amassed a substantial fortune during his life. Seneca was also a prolific writer, authoring tragedies, philosophical treatises, and a collection of letters that is considered to be the precursor of the modern essay (Seneca was a major influence on Michel de Montaigne, who reinvented the essay in 16th Century France). After being recalled from exile, Seneca was appointed tutor to the young aristocrat who would later become the Emperor Nero. Seneca attempted to inculcate his pupil with Stoic virtues like clemency, but Nero developed into one of the worst tyrants in Roman history. In one of the great ironies of Western history -- given Seneca's public criticism of the tyranny of the Emperor Caligula -- Nero imposed the death sentence on his former tutor and adviser in 65 AD/CE (although Seneca was allowed to commit suicide like his hero Socrates).
     In happier times, Seneca authored a short treatise that has come to be known as On the Constancy of the Wise Person. In this work, based on Stoic principles, Seneca argued to his friend Annaeus Serenus that a sage could not be truly injured or insulted by anyone. James Ker's translation of the essay includes the following noteworthy passage:
          "Besides, the fact that the majority of insults are made by arrogant and insolent men who bear their good fortune poorly means that the wise person has something by which he can reject that inflated emotional reaction: magnanimity, the most beautiful of all the virtues."
     In recent days, Republican President Donald Trump gratuitously insulted Democratic Senator Elizabeth Warren by repeating the derisive nickname "Pocahontas" during an event honoring Native American veterans of World War II. (Trump affixed this moniker to her during the 2016 presidential campaign, based on allegations that she incorrectly claimed Native ancestry). So instead of the media coverage focusing on the heroism of the Navajo veterans -- as noted by Warren in her response -- it focused on the President's racially insensitive insult. Rather than being magnanimous after his victory over opponents like Warren in the 2016 elections, Trump instead choose to make a gesture that can only be described as petty and beneath the dignity of his office.   
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References:
     Seneca, On the Constancy of the Wise Person, translated by James Ker, in Hardship and Happiness (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2014), 11.1 at page 160; see also pages ix-xi.

Epictetus On The Blame Game

     In my previous post, I discussed the Meditations of the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius. In addition to Book 6, another extraordinary section is Book 1. In that book, Marcus listed the people to whom he felt he owed a debt of gratitude. Included in this long list were his grandfather, his mother, his adoptive father (the Emperor Antoninus Pius), and his teachers. He also thanked Quintus Junius Rusticus -- who served as Consul and Prefect of Rome -- for introducing him to the lectures of Epictetus.
      Epictetus is one of the more interesting figures in Roman history. He was born into slavery around 55 AD/CE, in the Graeco-Roman city of Hierapolis (in what is now Turkey). His master Epaphroditus, himself a former slave, served as as imperial secretary in Rome. Apparently, Epaphroditus allowed Epictetus to attend the lectures of the Stoic philosopher Musonius Rufus. After being freed by his master, Epictetus became a full time student -- and ultimately a teacher -- of philosophy. When the Emperor Domitian expelled all philosophers from Rome in 95 AD/CE, Epictetus settled in the Greek city of Nicopolis and opened what would become a popular school of philosophy. His student Arrian transcribed what can be described as an executive summary of Epictetus' lectures, which is known as the Enchiridion (or Manual).
     In current times, President Trump has become an expert in the art of blaming others for his inability to get his policy agenda enacted into law. A notable example of this is Trump's negative reaction to the failure of Congress to "repeal and replace" the Affordable Care Act (a/k/a "Obamacare"). Now Congressional Republicans are working on a major tax reform package. Regardless of what one thinks of the merits of this proposal, if -- or, more likely, when -- it fails to pass, the President will almost certainly begin another round of the "blame game."
     In Chapter 5 of the Manual, as translated by Robert Dobbin, here is what Epictetus had to say about blame:
          "It is not events that disturb people, it is their judgements concerning them. Death, for example, is nothing frightening, otherwise it would have frightened Socrates [the classical Greek philosopher and Stoic hero]. But the judgement that death is frightening -- now, that is something to be afraid of. So when we are frustrated, angry or unhappy, never hold anyone except ourselves -- that is, our judgements  -- accountable.  An ignorant person is inclined to blame others for his own misfortune. To blame oneself is proof of progress. But the wise man never has to blame another or himself." [Emphasis added].
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References:
     Marcus Aurelius, Meditations: A New Translation, with an Introduction, by Gregory Hays (The Modern Library, New York, 2003), Book 1, pages 5-13; see also page 188.
     Epictetus, Discourses and Selected Writings, translated and edited by Robert Dobbin (Penguin Classics, London, 2008), Enchiridion, Chapter 5, page 223; see also pages vii-xi.   
   

The Presidential Emperor And The Imperial President

     I want to apologize to my readers (all three of them) for the unusual length of time between posts. Earlier this month it was my duty -- but also my pleasure -- to attend the wedding of my niece in St. Louis, Missouri, so I took about 10 days off from blogging.

     Marcus Aurelius was the Emperor of Rome during the Second Century A.D. (or C.E., if you prefer). He was arguably the only monarch in the classical West who truly deserved the title of philosopher-king. In the Meditations, Marcus suggests that his first love was philosophy but that he thought it was his duty as a Roman to succeed his adoptive father, the Emperor Antoninus Pius. The Meditations, which were apparently never intended for publication, reflect Marcus' internal struggles in ruling the Roman Empire near the height of its power. In Book 3, Marcus made clear that he had no intention of becoming a tyrant like Nero, the Roman Emperor who sentenced Seneca to death during the First Century C.E.

      Book 6 of the Meditations reveals that Emperor Marcus was, in many ways, the opposite of President Trump.  Trump loves luxury and ostentation; Marcus' model was his immediate predecessor Antoninus, who he remembered as a modest person content with basic living quarters, bedding, clothes, food, and servants; Marcus also wrote that his purple imperial robes were nothing but sheep's wool dyed with the blood of shellfish. Trump craves attention and validation; Marcus did not prize the clapping of an audience or "... the clacking of their tongues. Which is all that public praise amounts to ... ."  Those who disagree with Trump are subject to his ridicule, including Tweet-storms; Marcus asserted: "If anyone can refute me -- show me I'm making a mistake or looking at things from the wrong perspective -- I'll gladly change. It's the truth I'm after, and the truth never harmed anyone. What harms us is to persist in self-deceit and ignorance." But perhaps the most remarkable passage in Book 6, as translated by Gregory Hays, is the following:
          "To escape imperialization -- that indelible stain. It happens. Make sure you remain straightforward, upright, reverent, serious, unadorned, an ally of justice, pious, kind, affectionate, and doing your duty with a will. Fight to be the person philosophy tried to make you. Revere the gods; watch over human beings. Our lives are short. The only rewards of our existence here are an unstained character and unselfish acts." 

     Trump seems to be quite taken with the trappings of his office. Foreign leaders -- some of whom do not have America's best interests in mind -- have learned that the way to his heart is through pomp and circumstance as well as flattery. It is ironic, or perhaps sad, that a Roman Emperor who lived almost 2,000 years ago appears to have had more of the qualities of an ideal American President than the current occupant of the White House has.

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References:

     Marcus Aurelius, Meditations: A New Translation, with an Introduction, by Gregory Hays (The Modern Library, New York, 2003), Book 6, pages 70-76.

       

What Would Seneca Say (About Anger)?

     The Dhammapada, which is part of the Theravada Pali Canon, takes a negative view of anger: it is something to give up, to keep in check, and to conquer; Buddhists are advised to guard against anger in body, in speech, and in mind.
     Despite the importance of moderation to the classical Greek philosopher Aristotle, he was surprisingly tolerant of anger. In Book IV of his Ethics, he argued that the excess of anger is irascibility, the mean is patience, and the deficiency is servility. For Aristotle, it is commendable to be angry at the right things, with the right people, in the right way, and at the right time.
     However, not all thinkers in the Western intellectual tradition agreed with Aristotle's position on anger. For example, Lucius Annaeus Seneca was a  Roman philosopher/dramatist/politician (not necessarily in that order). According to the recent translation by Robert Kaster, Seneca begins his treatise On Anger -- written in the first century of the Common Era -- by noting that "... some wise men have said that anger is a brief madness: for it's no less lacking in self-control, forgetful of decency, unmindful of personal ties, unrelentingly intent on its goal, shut off from rational deliberation, stirred for no substantial reason, unsuited to determining what's fair and true ... ." Seneca's disagreement was not with Aristotle's definition of anger, but rather with Aristotle's view that anger could be a spur to virtuous action. For Seneca, however, anger was not acceptable under any circumstances because of its "damaging effects."
    Almost 2,000 years after Seneca wrote these words, President Trump erupts in angry outbursts on an almost daily basis -- on Twitter and elsewhere -- and seems barely able to keep his temper under control on other days. He would do well to heed the following words from Seneca regarding anger:
          "... no pestilence has been more costly for the human race. Butchery and poisoning, suits and counter suits, cities destroyed, entire nations wiped out, ... dwellings put to the torch, then the blaze, unchecked by the city walls, turning vast tracks of land bright with the attacking flame. Consider the cities of vast renown whose foundation stones can now hardly be made out: anger cast these cities down. Consider the wastelands, deserted, without an inhabitant for many miles: anger emptied them. ... consider whole assemblies mowed down, the common folk butchered when an army was loosed upon them, whole peoples condemned to die in promiscuous slaughter ... ."

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References: 
     Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics (Penguin Classics, London, 2004; original translation by Thomson, revised by Tredennick, introduction by Barnes), see pages 100-103.
     Gil Fronsdal, The Dhammapada: A New Translation of the Buddhist Classic with Annotations (Shambhala, Boulder, 2006), see Verses 221-234 on pages 59-61.
     Seneca, On Anger, translated by Robert A. Kaster in Anger, Mercy, Revenge (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2010); the first quotation above can be found in Book 1, on page 14; the second quotation is also in Book 1, on page 15; see also Book 3, on page 64.    

What Did Aristotle Mean By Boasting?

     As promised in my first post, I will be focusing on Aristotle's discussion of the doctrine of the mean in this post. However, I want to let all of my readers -- both of them -- know that in my next post, I intend to consider an ancient Eastern perspective on moderation.
    My first exposure to the classical Greek thinker Aristotle was in college: I recall reading parts of the Poetics in English class, and some of the Politics in a Philosophy course. In law school, I had a course in which we read the Rhetoric. But the subject of this post is the Nicomachean Ethics, which I only got around to reading in the past decade. Aristotle discusses his concept of the mean in Book II of the Ethics. He makes clear that he is not focusing on the mean in relation to things. In mathematics, by way of illustration, Aristotle observes that between 10 and 2 the mean is 6. Instead, he is concerned with the mean in relation to humans, especially regarding moral virtue. For Aristotle, this virtue is the mean between two kinds of vice: excess and deficiency. He says, for instance, that between the deficiency of cowardice and the excess of rashness lies the mean of courage. However, Aristotle acknowledges that not every action admits of a mean: for example, adultery and murder and theft are evil in themselves.
     One reason that that a philosopher like Aristotle is still being read and published more than 2,000 years after his death is that his ideas still have application to the modern world. So I will end this post with a quote from Book IV of the Ethics, which could have been written about President Trump's character yesterday:

          "Let us now deal similarly with those who exhibit truth and falsehood in their speech and actions, i.e. in their pretensions. Well, the boaster is regarded as one who pretends to have distinguished qualities which he possesses either not at all or to a lesser degree than he pretends. ... Falsehood is in itself bad and reprehensible, while the truth is a fine and praiseworthy thing; accordingly the sincere man, who holds the mean position, is praiseworthy. ... The boaster is considered to be the opposite of the sincere man. ..." 

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References:
     The passage quoted above can be found on pages 105-107 of the Penguin Classics version of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics (Penguin Books, London, 2004; original translation by Thomson, revised by Tredennick, introduction by Barnes); Aristotle's main discussion of the doctrine of the mean can be found on pages 40-49.