"Very well, then," you retort, "do you regard the philosophy of Marcus Cato as moderate? Cato's voice strove to check a civil war. Cato parted the swords of maddened chieftains. When some fell foul of Pompey and others fell foul of Caesar, Cato defied both parties at once!"
Nevertheless, one may well question whether, in those days, a wise man ought to have taken any part in public affairs, and ask: "What do you mean, Marcus Cato? It is not now a question of freedom; long since has freedom gone to rack and ruin. The question is, whether it is Caesar or Pompey who controls the State. Why, Cato, should you take sides in that dispute? It is no business of yours; a tyrant is being selected. What does it concern you who conquers? The better man may win; but the winner is bound to be the worse man."
I have referred to Cato's final role. But even in previous years the wise man was not permitted to intervene in such plundering of the state; for what could Cato do but raise his voice and utter unavailing words? At one time he was "hustled" by the mob and spat upon and forcibly removed from the forum and marked for exile; at another, he was taken straight to prison from the senate-chamber.
I may get the wrong impression here, that the Stoic should live the life of a doormat, or that it is better to hide away in a corner than to take a stand. Once again, it all boils down to the difference between rashly looking for a conflict and prudently facing a conflict. The Stoic will certainly draw the line, but only when the practice of virtue absolutely demands it, and only when he has exhausted every other option.
Cato the Younger has long been a hero to many Stoics, and for very good reason: his unwavering opposition to corruption and tyranny in Rome was a prime example of moral courage, and his willingness to surrender all else for his principles can only inspire the deepest admiration. Surely Cato did not avoid hardship to follow what he knew to be right? If Cato didn’t stay out of trouble, why should we?
Such an objection to taking the most peaceful route seems quite reasonable, and yet it can easily obscure the reasons why someone like Cato acted as he did. There is an option in between being hotheaded and cowardly, and it centers upon the purity of our actions, regardless of our control over the circumstances.
Now the likes of Caesar, Pompey, or Crassus fought because they wished to increase their own fame, power, and wealth, while Cato fought for the dictates of his conscience. The First Triumvirate went looking for strife, while Cato labored to remove the very sources of that strife. There is a stark contrast between engaging in public life for reasons of greed and for reasons of service.
Seneca hardly intends any disrespect to Cato when he speculates about whether his actions were truly necessary, and I imagine he does so precisely to get us thinking about our own motives. I don’t know if Cato ever believed he could “win” his battle against those who assaulted the old ways of Rome, though his sense of what constituted a victory diverged drastically from that of Caesar. Cato felt he needed to do the right thing, and Caesar only wanted to do the gratifying thing.
By all means, avoid the trouble if you can, but bear it with dignity if you must. Cato is in many ways a deeply tragic figure, and thankfully not all of us will have to make the choices he did. One can hope that he would have acted otherwise if his back hadn’t been up against the wall, and that he did not decide on his resistance out of recklessness.
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