Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.20

He who has a vehement desire for posthumous fame does not consider that every one of those who remember him will himself also die very soon, then again also they who have succeeded them, until the whole remembrance shall have been extinguished as it is transmitted through men who foolishly admire and perish.

But suppose that those who will remember are even immortal, and that the remembrance will be immortal, what then is this to you?

And I say not what is it to the dead, but what is it to the living? What is praise except indeed so far as it has a certain utility? For you now reject unseasonably the gift of nature, clinging to something else.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4 (tr Long)

A desire for reputation, in all of its possible variations and combinations, begins to appear all the more vain and shallow when I closely consider its true colors.  This in turn confuses me, because I wonder why there is still such a powerful and immediate attraction to acquiring fame. Why can I still be so easily misled?

Perhaps it is because fame offers the gratification of appearing to be important, without necessarily demanding the work of actually being good. It gives the illusion of character by means of a shortcut, whether or not character is actually present, and unlike virtue, it seems to be something I can quite easily buy and sell. Recognition has a certain intoxicating effect, quick to satisfy, easy to crave, and always offering the prospect of gaining more.

Fame is fickle, however, and she likes to pass on to someone else once we have had our fifteen minutes. Honor depends on the changing opinions of others, and will come and go as suddenly as fashions change, and as quickly as one generation is replaced by the next.

But let us, for the sake of argument, imagine that honor is permanent and lasting. Men could live forever, and they could always be in awe of my greatness. What difference will any of that make to me if I am gone?

We might further suggest the possibility that I too could live forever, and then I could bask in glory for all time. Even if such a permanent state of appreciation were possible, it would still leave me wanting. Fame has nothing to do with the fulfillment of my own nature, because it does not proceed from what I may think or do, but only from what others may think or do.

The error of pursuing fame follows from having the human good backwards, from falsely thinking that merit is a passive, and not an active, measure. Once I tell myself that action exists not for its own sake, but for the sake of recognition, I have defined the very dignity of people by how they are perceived from the outside, and not from what they truly are from the inside.

The problem with praise is not whether or not I may happen to receive it, but whether or not I think it worthy of attention to even want any of that attention. If I already have virtue, I won’t need to be admired for it, and if I lack virtue, no amount of being admired can replace that absence. I am the only one who can make myself worthy. 

Written in 9/2005