The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Monday, September 25, 2017

Seneca on Philosophy and Friendship 2



. . . But we and they alike hold this idea, that the wise man is self-sufficient. Nevertheless, he desires friends, neighbors, and associates, no matter how much he is sufficient unto himself. 

And mark how self-sufficient he is; for on occasion he can be content with a part of himself. If he lose a hand through disease or war, or if some accident puts out one or both of his eyes, he will be satisfied with what is left, taking as much pleasure in his impaired and maimed body as he took when it was sound. 

But while he does not pine for these parts if they are missing, he prefers not to lose them. In this sense the wise man is self-sufficient, that he can do without friends, not that he desires to do without them. When I say "can", I mean this: he endures the loss of a friend with equanimity. . . .

—Seneca the Younger, Moral Letters to Lucilius 9, tr Gummere

In seeking to understand the Stoic model of self-sufficiency, I have found it helpful to think of myself from the outside in, and from the inside out. I remind myself that being able to flip this perception is a part of what I have often called the Stoic Turn. To be self-sufficient is not to exist in separation from the world, but rather to properly understand my relationship to other persons and things.

We are primarily used to thinking of ourselves from the outside in. Things affect us, we respond by changing ourselves to fit these new externals, and we then easily allow those things to measure our value and merit. This is an essentially passive view of the self, because I permit my wealth, position, or reputation to determine me.

In contrast, we can think of ourselves from the inside out. We can look first and foremost to the value and merit of how we think and live, and not allow ourselves to be ruled by our conditions. This is an essentially active view of the self, because I do not see my fortune as something that controls me, but as something I can always use to improve my own action.

The first sort of life can never be truly self-sufficient, while the second most certainly can be self-sufficient. I can remain fully engaged with my world, I can love my neighbor and seek the good for him, and I can always choose to act for what is right. But I should never allow the circumstances of that world to be my master.

This connects nicely with the Stoic ideal of indifference. Life is going to throw many things at us, some pleasant and some painful, some easy and some hard, and, all other things being equal, it is only natural to prefer convenient things to inconvenient things.

Yet as soon as I desire and choose my fortune over my own virtue, I’ve sadly flipped the priorities. By all means, I can desire pleasure, money, fame, health, and many friends, but if seeking them destroys my moral character, I am no longer self-sufficient, because I am no longer indifferent to those externals. In the simplest of terms, we should always seek in our lives what will help us in living well, and avoid what will encourage us in living poorly.

So it is with friends. I would very much like to live in the company of others I can love and trust, and for all of our differences in personality, we are all sociable creatures. But if I must lose friends, and therefore perhaps even be completely alone, in order to be a good man, then I can learn to bear that with acceptance and dignity. I simply can’t sell higher things for lower things, like selling my own soul in order to be liked or respected.

Written 1/2005

Image: Johann Heinrich Lips (1758-1817), An Allegory of Friendship

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