I shall mention a fact by which you may weigh the worth of a man's character: you will scarcely find anyone who can live with his door wide open. It is our conscience, not our pride, that has put doorkeepers at our doors; we live in such a fashion that being suddenly disclosed to view is equivalent to being caught in the act.
What profits it, however, to hide ourselves away, and to avoid the eyes and ears of men?
A good conscience welcomes the crowd, but a bad conscience, even in solitude, is disturbed and troubled.
If your deeds are honorable, let everybody know them; if base, what matters it that no one knows them, as long as you yourself know them? How wretched you are if you despise such a witness! Farewell.
What profits it, however, to hide ourselves away, and to avoid the eyes and ears of men?
A good conscience welcomes the crowd, but a bad conscience, even in solitude, is disturbed and troubled.
If your deeds are honorable, let everybody know them; if base, what matters it that no one knows them, as long as you yourself know them? How wretched you are if you despise such a witness! Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 43
Sometimes I am just in the mood for some solitude, but at other times I run away because I’ve been up to no good. Sometimes I keep a secret in order to respect a promise, but at other times I keep a secret out of disgrace.
I can certainly learn about someone’s values by what he is eager to share, though it took me some time to realize how much is also revealed by what he is anxious to conceal. Privacy can be a clever excuse, just as much as it can be a harmless preference.
I think with sadness about the many people I have known who meticulously crafted ideal public images for themselves, and then turned out to be completely different behind closed doors. All that effort could instead have been directed toward a habit of moral constancy, which would have saved them the chronic anxiety that comes from living a lie.
If the philanderer truly believes it is right to sleep around, why is he so keen to cover his tracks? Once a deliberate deception enters into the picture, you can be sure there is no virtue in it.
But wait, can I still keep one of those sacred promises without lying? Of course. I can just clearly state that I’m not going to tell. Case closed.
In trying to follow Seneca’s advice, I find it far more difficult than I ever imagined to act without first looking over my shoulder. It is indeed a perfect check for my character, on two levels:
First, it requires me to concentrate on the pure integrity of my judgments, without any distractions from cheap pretexts, which are about rationalizing rather than reasoning. If the presence or absence of a spectator makes a difference to me, I’m not being forthright.
Second, it assists me in becoming indifferent to popular perceptions, in the specific Stoic sense of caring deeply about people, while not allowing myself to be determined by their reactions.
If I feel embarrassed, that either means I care too little about my convictions, or I care too much about conforming to the mob. In both cases, it’s time to grow a backbone. Fix the vice in the behavior, or fix the reliance on the approval.
Once I get my own house in order, then I can rightly make use of any fame that comes around, just as I can rightly make use of being ignored, ridiculed, or condemned. I may not be as ostentatious as a Diogenes, but I can surely be as carefree as a Seneca.
I know a fellow who complains that no one reads his posts on social media, and I know him well enough to give it to him straight: If you are writing to share something of use, you are still doing your duty, regardless of how others choose to take it. If you are writing to impress them, it may be time to close out the account.
Sometimes I am just in the mood for some solitude, but at other times I run away because I’ve been up to no good. Sometimes I keep a secret in order to respect a promise, but at other times I keep a secret out of disgrace.
I can certainly learn about someone’s values by what he is eager to share, though it took me some time to realize how much is also revealed by what he is anxious to conceal. Privacy can be a clever excuse, just as much as it can be a harmless preference.
I think with sadness about the many people I have known who meticulously crafted ideal public images for themselves, and then turned out to be completely different behind closed doors. All that effort could instead have been directed toward a habit of moral constancy, which would have saved them the chronic anxiety that comes from living a lie.
If the philanderer truly believes it is right to sleep around, why is he so keen to cover his tracks? Once a deliberate deception enters into the picture, you can be sure there is no virtue in it.
But wait, can I still keep one of those sacred promises without lying? Of course. I can just clearly state that I’m not going to tell. Case closed.
In trying to follow Seneca’s advice, I find it far more difficult than I ever imagined to act without first looking over my shoulder. It is indeed a perfect check for my character, on two levels:
First, it requires me to concentrate on the pure integrity of my judgments, without any distractions from cheap pretexts, which are about rationalizing rather than reasoning. If the presence or absence of a spectator makes a difference to me, I’m not being forthright.
Second, it assists me in becoming indifferent to popular perceptions, in the specific Stoic sense of caring deeply about people, while not allowing myself to be determined by their reactions.
If I feel embarrassed, that either means I care too little about my convictions, or I care too much about conforming to the mob. In both cases, it’s time to grow a backbone. Fix the vice in the behavior, or fix the reliance on the approval.
Once I get my own house in order, then I can rightly make use of any fame that comes around, just as I can rightly make use of being ignored, ridiculed, or condemned. I may not be as ostentatious as a Diogenes, but I can surely be as carefree as a Seneca.
I know a fellow who complains that no one reads his posts on social media, and I know him well enough to give it to him straight: If you are writing to share something of use, you are still doing your duty, regardless of how others choose to take it. If you are writing to impress them, it may be time to close out the account.
—Reflection written in 2/2013
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