Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.55

Do you wish to be praised by a man who curses himself three times an hour?

Would you wish to please a man who does not please himself?

Does a man please himself who repents of nearly everything that he does?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 8 (tr Long)

It is odd enough that we should be interested in defining ourselves by the respect of others; it already reduces the value of people to the estimation of other people. What is even more troubling is how often we further seek the approval of people who are hardly worthy of such authority over us.

Plato famously observed that those who are drawn to power and influence are precisely those who least deserve to have them, since the very fact that they desire a life of reputation reveals a neglect of the life of character. Even as they are so committed to appearing a certain way on the outside, there is likely a corresponding emptiness on the inside. They are grasping, filled with a longing to possess other things, when they do not even posses themselves.

I did not see this at first, but over time it became quite clear to me that those who pursue the life of honor are quite often the most anxious, insecure, and frustrated people you will ever meet. Don’t be fooled by the fine veneer, which is there to compensate.

Should I really seek the respect of someone who has no real respect for himself? Should I want to be admired by a fellow who does not know how to find happiness within his own soul, but feeds off the souls of others? Should I put people on pedestals when they can’t even look at themselves in the mirror without feeling a sense of shame?

This needs to go both ways. I should be wary of others who measure life by trading in the currency of praise, while I must also be wary of being seduced by this illusion in my own thinking.

I have rarely been in positions involving any real influence, but on the very few occasions where I have been praised or admired, even in the slightest way, I could feel a certain satisfaction in the attention. I found that the sensation could easily become a diversion from doing the right thing for its own sake, to be slowly but surely replaced with doing the popular thing for my sake.

So as unpleasant as it may at first seem, I will often try to deliberately avoid being seen doing something well. If it is at all possible, I choose to attempt something virtuous in private, and not in public; I don’t always trust myself not to desire the admiration for the deed, instead of just loving the deed.

How can I possibly want to be thought well of by others, when I know that I am lying to them? My character improves by being somebody, not being thought of as being somebody.

Written in 5/2008