That is why I smile at those who think it degrading for a man to dine with his slave. But why should they think it degrading? It is only because purse-proud etiquette surrounds a householder at his dinner with a mob of standing slaves.
The master eats more than he can hold, and with monstrous greed loads his belly until it is stretched and at length ceases to do the work of a belly; so that he is at greater pains to discharge all the food than he was to stuff it down.
All this time the poor slaves may not move their lips, even to speak. The slightest murmur is repressed by the rod; even a chance sound—a cough, a sneeze, or a hiccup—is visited with the lash. There is a grievous penalty for the slightest breach of silence. All night long they must stand about, hungry and dumb.
The master eats more than he can hold, and with monstrous greed loads his belly until it is stretched and at length ceases to do the work of a belly; so that he is at greater pains to discharge all the food than he was to stuff it down.
All this time the poor slaves may not move their lips, even to speak. The slightest murmur is repressed by the rod; even a chance sound—a cough, a sneeze, or a hiccup—is visited with the lash. There is a grievous penalty for the slightest breach of silence. All night long they must stand about, hungry and dumb.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 47
You may say that the times when the rich and powerful sat at their elaborate banquets while being pampered by servants or slaves are now long past, and it is certainly true that formal dining is no longer what it once was. Even the wealthiest wish to appear as if they have the common touch, though that hardly stops them from being fussy and gaudy.
But do not be deceived, for those who consider themselves to be important have all sorts of ways to be waited on hand and foot.
There is the boss who loves to hear himself talk, and he expects everyone else to listen. There are the diners who demand special orders, and they send their meals back to the kitchen at least once, just to make a point. There is that fellow who wishes to be seen as gracious, and he can’t help but remind us of his generosity over and over. We can all fill in our own favorites.
What they all share in common, like the gluttonous Romans Seneca describes so vividly, is that they feel they have the right to be gratified, and the rest of the world exists to attend to them. Whether they consume food, time, or attention, they think of the rest of us as disposable commodities. For all intents and purposes, they assert themselves as masters, and reduce us to the status of slaves.
You will find at least one in every office, worksite, classroom, or church. You can recognize them by the way they look at people, interested only as long as they receive profit or satisfaction, and as soon as these qualities pass, they turn away, often cutting you off in mid-sentence. Then they move on to the next convenience.
I have a very vivid memories of a manager who would drop a crumpled napkin on the floor while he was eating lunch, and would wait until one of his underlings stooped down to pick it up.
I also had a teacher who would choose a different favorite student every week or so, moving on to another when the first was no longer entertaining.
Then there was the priest who surrounded himself with a crowd of adoring women, though I noticed how he would exile one of them immediately if he saw her speaking with another man for too long.
Observe how they smile smugly when you please, yet they are so easily consumed by a blinding rage as soon as you offend. Such impatience is a further symptom of their grasping nature.
Once people are treated like mere conveniences or burdens, we are already well on our way to denying their very humanity.
You may say that the times when the rich and powerful sat at their elaborate banquets while being pampered by servants or slaves are now long past, and it is certainly true that formal dining is no longer what it once was. Even the wealthiest wish to appear as if they have the common touch, though that hardly stops them from being fussy and gaudy.
But do not be deceived, for those who consider themselves to be important have all sorts of ways to be waited on hand and foot.
There is the boss who loves to hear himself talk, and he expects everyone else to listen. There are the diners who demand special orders, and they send their meals back to the kitchen at least once, just to make a point. There is that fellow who wishes to be seen as gracious, and he can’t help but remind us of his generosity over and over. We can all fill in our own favorites.
What they all share in common, like the gluttonous Romans Seneca describes so vividly, is that they feel they have the right to be gratified, and the rest of the world exists to attend to them. Whether they consume food, time, or attention, they think of the rest of us as disposable commodities. For all intents and purposes, they assert themselves as masters, and reduce us to the status of slaves.
You will find at least one in every office, worksite, classroom, or church. You can recognize them by the way they look at people, interested only as long as they receive profit or satisfaction, and as soon as these qualities pass, they turn away, often cutting you off in mid-sentence. Then they move on to the next convenience.
I have a very vivid memories of a manager who would drop a crumpled napkin on the floor while he was eating lunch, and would wait until one of his underlings stooped down to pick it up.
I also had a teacher who would choose a different favorite student every week or so, moving on to another when the first was no longer entertaining.
Then there was the priest who surrounded himself with a crowd of adoring women, though I noticed how he would exile one of them immediately if he saw her speaking with another man for too long.
Observe how they smile smugly when you please, yet they are so easily consumed by a blinding rage as soon as you offend. Such impatience is a further symptom of their grasping nature.
Once people are treated like mere conveniences or burdens, we are already well on our way to denying their very humanity.
—Reflection written in 3/2013
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