Seneca, On the Happy Life 2: The Beaten Path

. . . Let us not therefore decide whether we must tend, and by what path, without the advice of some experienced person who has explored the region which we are about to enter, because this journey is not subject to the same conditions as others; for in some the distinctly understood track and inquiries made of the natives make it impossible for us to go wrong, but here the most beaten and frequented tracks are those which lead us most astray.

Nothing, therefore, is more important than that we should not, like sheep, follow the flock that has gone before us, and thus proceed not where we ought, but where the rest are going. . . .

—Seneca the Younger, On the happy Life, Chapter 1 (tr Stewart)

When in Rome, they say, do as the Romans do. It is an almost immediate instinct for us to conform to the socially approved standard. I think this has less to do with our own conscious judgment than it does with a basic instinct to just be accepted.

This is quite reasonable when it comes to matters of custom and culture. I once deeply offended an Indian host by eating with wrong hand, and at another time I was criticized by a Russian for not finishing my entire glass of vodka. I adapted fairly quickly, though the second experience was quite painful on the next day.

There are beaten paths for many things. It is only reasonable to learn skills by example, and to travel with the flow. I cannot count the number of practices I’ve learned just by watching other people do them first. Observing a maniacal friend playing the mandolin, at a lightning speed I thought would set the instrument on fire, was far more helpful than all those instructional books or chord charts, and it was only the fine model of my own teachers, over many years, that ever made me an even barely competent teacher. We usually become better by being the best of mimics.

Seneca suggests that this is not so true when it comes to the path toward happiness. What we see around us might not be so exemplary, and what others do might not provide the best guidance. These are no longer matters of custom and culture, but matters of right and wrong.

I suspect the many will often be led astray because the most visible and outspoken folks will lure us down a false path. The herd then follows. Consider how often you have thought of a charming and respected person as a role model, and then asked yourself if that was the best move you could have made. Allure and position do not make the man.

Unlike custom and culture, where we may humbly show our respect by following, the act of living in happiness, and of living well, requires our own independent thinking, and the act of our own deliberate choice. No one can ever do this job for us, or command us to do it, because we have to take that first completely autonomous step: we are our own masters, and responsible for ourselves. We must each make that first plunge entirely on our own.

I distinctly recall being ensnared, time and time again, by the appearance of character, and being convinced that someone or something was worth following, simply because so many other people were standing in line to get approval. 

I was once entranced by a professor who told me all about how academics was a dedication to service, but then he suddenly left for a far better paying job, abandoning all of his graduate students in mid-stream.

I was once convinced that a very popular parish priest could do no harm, and I was deeply moved by his appeals to marital fidelity, until I found he’d been sleeping with women in his parish.

Human nature can be a fickle thing, and we get it wrong more often than we get it right. That professor was just a man, and that priest was just a man, and I cannot claim to be any better. What surprised me about myself was how easily I fell for an image, and for the popularity that came with it. I wasn’t judging for myself, but I was letting other people do the judging for me.

Whatever is popular gives me an easy excuse, to shut of my own conscience and depend upon another. I think there is a real difference between someone who serves, because he knows what he does, and someone who merely follows, because he is led by the nose.

The beaten path, the one all of the self-important people draw attention to, should immediately be suspect. This is not out of any elitism, but out of the recognition that weakness loves company. Users and abusers know that we are struggling, so they will give us easy answers to difficult problems. They are selling us a product, and they think that we will buy it because we are uncertain and afraid.

The problem with following the herd in matters of ethics isn’t about dismissing the opinions of others. It’s all about choosing not to think for ourselves. Submitting without judgment will be our doom. Embracing liberty with a sincere conscience will be our redemption.

The right teacher, the right role model, will never tell you what you must do. He will point you toward what you must decide for yourself. You will recognize him right away, because he is not selling you anything. He gives you himself, and asks only that you humbly and sincerely be yourself. 

Written in 9/2010