I do not wish to involve myself in too large a question, and to discuss the treatment of slaves, towards whom we Romans are excessively haughty, cruel, and insulting. But this is the kernel of my advice: Treat your inferiors as you would be treated by your betters. And as often as you reflect how much power you have over a slave, remember that your master has just as much power over you.
"But I have no master," you say. You are still young; perhaps you will have one. Do you not know at what age Hecuba entered captivity, or Croesus, or the mother of Darius, or Plato, or Diogenes?
Associate with your slave on kindly, even on affable, terms; let him talk with you, plan with you, live with you. I know that at this point all the exquisites will cry out against me in a body; they will say: "There is nothing more debasing, more disgraceful, than this." But these are the very persons whom I sometimes surprise kissing the hands of other men's slaves.
Do you not see even this—how our ancestors removed from masters everything invidious, and from slaves everything insulting? They called the master "father of the household," and the slaves "members of the household," a custom which still holds in the mime.
They established a holiday on which masters and slaves should eat together—not as the only day for this custom, but as obligatory on that day in any case. They allowed the slaves to attain honors in the household and to pronounce judgment; they held that a household was a miniature commonwealth.
"But I have no master," you say. You are still young; perhaps you will have one. Do you not know at what age Hecuba entered captivity, or Croesus, or the mother of Darius, or Plato, or Diogenes?
Associate with your slave on kindly, even on affable, terms; let him talk with you, plan with you, live with you. I know that at this point all the exquisites will cry out against me in a body; they will say: "There is nothing more debasing, more disgraceful, than this." But these are the very persons whom I sometimes surprise kissing the hands of other men's slaves.
Do you not see even this—how our ancestors removed from masters everything invidious, and from slaves everything insulting? They called the master "father of the household," and the slaves "members of the household," a custom which still holds in the mime.
They established a holiday on which masters and slaves should eat together—not as the only day for this custom, but as obligatory on that day in any case. They allowed the slaves to attain honors in the household and to pronounce judgment; they held that a household was a miniature commonwealth.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 47
When it comes to how those of superior social rank should behave toward those under their authority, Seneca suggest a variation of the classic Golden Rule. The beauty of such a maxim is that it cuts through all the clutter of the circumstances, and it asks quite simply whether I would wish to be treated in the same way I am treating my fellows. If I believe I deserve kindness and concern, why shouldn’t that be true for my brother, whatever his standing in life?
Some people snicker at the Golden Rule, but I should take note of how they usually struggle with the very concept of personal dignity to begin with, whether their own or that of others, and though they might get rich very quickly, they are always intensely bitter and lonely.
Some brush the Golden Rule aside as a merely religious sentiment, and while it is indeed common to all the great faiths of the world, it is also firmly grounded in reason. It flows from the logical principle of identity, such that what is necessarily true for the one instance of a type must also be true for the other. If you and I are both human, and we therefore share the same human good, there can be no differences in our fundamental responsibilities to one another.
If another has power over me, I hope he will exercise it for my benefit. Now what possible excuse can I have to expect otherwise when the roles are reversed? Strip away the accoutrements, and we are all the same underneath.
I will resist the temptation to dwell on any further metaphysical musings. Suffice it to say, on a purely practical level, a man who tries to squirm his way out of the Golden Rule is a man who wants to have it both ways. He believes he has a special dispensation because he will not accept himself as a part of the whole.
Can I perhaps escape such a duty by making certain that no one else ever has any power over me? I am then failing to understand how volatile Fortune will be, and why my own actions, however much they proceed from my own judgments, can never exist outside of a just relationship to what is greater, lesser, and equal to myself.
Once again, Seneca says that the Romans of the past were more capable of living with their slaves rather than lording over them. Now I do wonder why we would even tolerate the institution of slavery if our joined purpose should be one of cooperation instead of exploitation, and I suppose the trick to it would be that any legal theory, however entrenched in custom, could dissolve into a friendship of practice, as soon as we look at one another as people, not as things.
I have absolutely no desire to “own” a slave, yet our own contemporary practices do mean that I can become the “boss,” who has far-reaching powers over the welfare of others. If I find myself in that position, let me use the authority given to me as way to serve before I demand to be served.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I first saw Norman Rockwell’s Golden Rule, for that was a time when such values still commanded a certain respect. As with so many of his other works, it helped me to find comfort in a universal moral law.
A kind school librarian, who I will never forget, noticed my interest, and showed me a photograph of the notes Rockwell had used to help him with the painting.
When we cynically roll our eyes at Rockwell, or Fred Rogers, or classic Westerns like Gunsmoke, we run the risk of losing that critical sense of solidarity.
When it comes to how those of superior social rank should behave toward those under their authority, Seneca suggest a variation of the classic Golden Rule. The beauty of such a maxim is that it cuts through all the clutter of the circumstances, and it asks quite simply whether I would wish to be treated in the same way I am treating my fellows. If I believe I deserve kindness and concern, why shouldn’t that be true for my brother, whatever his standing in life?
Some people snicker at the Golden Rule, but I should take note of how they usually struggle with the very concept of personal dignity to begin with, whether their own or that of others, and though they might get rich very quickly, they are always intensely bitter and lonely.
Some brush the Golden Rule aside as a merely religious sentiment, and while it is indeed common to all the great faiths of the world, it is also firmly grounded in reason. It flows from the logical principle of identity, such that what is necessarily true for the one instance of a type must also be true for the other. If you and I are both human, and we therefore share the same human good, there can be no differences in our fundamental responsibilities to one another.
If another has power over me, I hope he will exercise it for my benefit. Now what possible excuse can I have to expect otherwise when the roles are reversed? Strip away the accoutrements, and we are all the same underneath.
I will resist the temptation to dwell on any further metaphysical musings. Suffice it to say, on a purely practical level, a man who tries to squirm his way out of the Golden Rule is a man who wants to have it both ways. He believes he has a special dispensation because he will not accept himself as a part of the whole.
Can I perhaps escape such a duty by making certain that no one else ever has any power over me? I am then failing to understand how volatile Fortune will be, and why my own actions, however much they proceed from my own judgments, can never exist outside of a just relationship to what is greater, lesser, and equal to myself.
Once again, Seneca says that the Romans of the past were more capable of living with their slaves rather than lording over them. Now I do wonder why we would even tolerate the institution of slavery if our joined purpose should be one of cooperation instead of exploitation, and I suppose the trick to it would be that any legal theory, however entrenched in custom, could dissolve into a friendship of practice, as soon as we look at one another as people, not as things.
I have absolutely no desire to “own” a slave, yet our own contemporary practices do mean that I can become the “boss,” who has far-reaching powers over the welfare of others. If I find myself in that position, let me use the authority given to me as way to serve before I demand to be served.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I first saw Norman Rockwell’s Golden Rule, for that was a time when such values still commanded a certain respect. As with so many of his other works, it helped me to find comfort in a universal moral law.
A kind school librarian, who I will never forget, noticed my interest, and showed me a photograph of the notes Rockwell had used to help him with the painting.
When we cynically roll our eyes at Rockwell, or Fred Rogers, or classic Westerns like Gunsmoke, we run the risk of losing that critical sense of solidarity.
—Reflection written in 3/2013
IMAGES: Norman Rockwell, Golden Rule (1961), together with his typed notes.
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