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Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Seneca, On the Happy Life 40: Virtue, Not Poverty



. . . Am I to expect that evil speaking will respect anything, seeing that it respected neither Rutilius nor Cato?

Will anyone care about being thought too rich by men for whom Diogenes the Cynic was not poor enough? That most energetic philosopher fought against all the desires of the body, and was poorer even than the other Cynics, in that besides having given up possessing anything he had also given up asking for anything.

Yet they reproached him for not being sufficiently in want, as though it were poverty, not virtue, of which he professed knowledge.

—Seneca the Younger, On the happy life, Chapter 18 (tr Stewart)

Rome had many base men, but it also had many great men. Rutilius Rufus found himself exiled for defending the citizens against the corruption of tax collectors, and Cato the Younger felt it better to die than to live in a state dominated by the arrogance of Julius Caesar. Like so many who stood for what they thought was right over what was convenient, they were vilified and condemned.

Diogenes of Sinope was well known for his extreme criticism of a society that he thought was dominated by a lust for wealth, power, and privilege. While many found his behavior shocking and scandalous, this apparently didn’t stop people from also insisting that he was never quite poor enough to live up to his own standards. One wonders how a man who lived in a barrel, and who discarded his only bowl after seeing another man drink from his hands, could possibly have given up anything more.

I recall reading two articles at roughly the same time, one of which argued that Teresa of Calcutta had failed to do enough for the dying, while the other claimed that she had done far too much to keep them from dying. I have heard my different leaders tell me that the problem with the poor in America is that they have too little to survive on, and also that they have far too much. An important person once told me that teachers were the most valuable assets to any society, but he also insisted that they were grossly overpaid.

The problem, I think, is that we are quick to criticize without any sound moral measure, without a sense of right and wrong to guide our judgments. Diogenes wasn’t trying to teach people how to be impoverished, but he was rather trying to teach them how to be virtuous; being poor was hardly itself the point, but being good was.

Mother Teresa would have been baffled by the criticisms of the social planners, because she thought that the dignity of every individual human being could hardly be judged by graphs and statistics. I myself am deeply confused when we demand that people make something of themselves, but then never give them the opportunities to do so; a man cannot pull himself up by his bootstraps if he has no chance to buy himself any boots. A teacher, or a student, or any person at all, should never be thought of as a commodity subject to the greed of the market, to be used only as far as they make us a profit.

Like an armchair quarterback, the critic will find something flawed about you, whatever you might do, because he simply likes to point out what is wrong. He has no room for what is right, because that would require that he be constructive, not destructive. It is always easier to dismiss a perceived evil than to embrace a true good.

The Stoic, like any decent man, begins and ends his estimation of anything by asking how it can encourage us in being virtuous, and how it can discourage us from being vicious.

His moral compass always points to the pole of virtue. It is never about being rich or poor, or being of one or another social, racial, or political persuasion, but about aiming at that excellence that fulfills our shared human condition. A man is not good because of what he does or doesn’t have, but by what he does with what he does or doesn’t have. 

Written in 3/2002

Image: John William Waterhouse, Diogenes (1882) 



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