Letter 48: On quibbling as unworthy of the philosopher
In answer to the letter which you wrote me while travelling—a letter as long as the journey itself—I shall reply later. I ought to go into retirement, and consider what sort of advice I should give you. For you yourself, who consult me, also reflected for a long time whether to do so; how much more, then, should I myself reflect, since more deliberation is necessary in settling than in propounding a problem!
And this is particularly true when one thing is advantageous to you and another to me. Am I speaking again in the guise of an Epicurean?
But the fact is, the same thing is advantageous to me which is advantageous to you; for I am not your friend unless whatever is at issue concerning you is my concern also. Friendship produces between us a partnership in all our interests.
There is no such thing as good or bad fortune for the individual; we live in common. And no one can live happily who has regard to himself alone and transforms everything into a question of his own utility; you must live for your neighbor, if you would live for yourself.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 48
You may say I am a hopeless idealist, but I am deeply saddened by the way friendship is reduced to a mere convenience. When pleasure and pain alone become the standards by which we distinguish the good from the bad, our commitments to one another will be subject to the whims of our conflicting moods.
If I happen to feel this way, while you happen to feel that way, and our preferences are no longer aligned, then we will cease to be friends. As long as I am pleasing, I have your attention. Once I have become a burden, I am discarded.
Yet it doesn’t have to be that way. Where understanding can give meaning and purpose to our passions, we have it within our power to recognize a common end, in which there never need be any conflict of interests. Aware of a shared human dignity, it is then possible to love others for their own sake, not for any utility they might provide at the moment.
This is why the Epicurean, who chooses to define a worthy life by the presence of pleasure, or at the very least by the absence of pain, can’t help but treat his friends conditionally—our diverging inclinations will keep us apart.
This is also why the Stoic, who chooses to define a worthy life by the presence of virtue, or at the very least the absence of vice, can see beyond the differences of desire to a unity of character—our love of Nature will keep us together.
I prefer not to call it friendship when it has a list of qualifications attached to it. I certainly will not call it love when it is simply granted in return for favors.
The sublime beauty of a creature gifted with reason and freedom is his capacity to judge beyond the immediate impressions, and thereby to embrace how his own benefit as a part is only fulfilled in a total service to the whole.
Once I start thinking of my own advantage at the expense of another, it is time for a comprehensive intellectual and moral tune-up. Nothing else can go right for me if I don’t rid myself of that illusion.
It troubles me when I see dogs with more loyalty to one another than exists between most men. We can do better.
You may say I am a hopeless idealist, but I am deeply saddened by the way friendship is reduced to a mere convenience. When pleasure and pain alone become the standards by which we distinguish the good from the bad, our commitments to one another will be subject to the whims of our conflicting moods.
If I happen to feel this way, while you happen to feel that way, and our preferences are no longer aligned, then we will cease to be friends. As long as I am pleasing, I have your attention. Once I have become a burden, I am discarded.
Yet it doesn’t have to be that way. Where understanding can give meaning and purpose to our passions, we have it within our power to recognize a common end, in which there never need be any conflict of interests. Aware of a shared human dignity, it is then possible to love others for their own sake, not for any utility they might provide at the moment.
This is why the Epicurean, who chooses to define a worthy life by the presence of pleasure, or at the very least by the absence of pain, can’t help but treat his friends conditionally—our diverging inclinations will keep us apart.
This is also why the Stoic, who chooses to define a worthy life by the presence of virtue, or at the very least the absence of vice, can see beyond the differences of desire to a unity of character—our love of Nature will keep us together.
I prefer not to call it friendship when it has a list of qualifications attached to it. I certainly will not call it love when it is simply granted in return for favors.
The sublime beauty of a creature gifted with reason and freedom is his capacity to judge beyond the immediate impressions, and thereby to embrace how his own benefit as a part is only fulfilled in a total service to the whole.
Once I start thinking of my own advantage at the expense of another, it is time for a comprehensive intellectual and moral tune-up. Nothing else can go right for me if I don’t rid myself of that illusion.
It troubles me when I see dogs with more loyalty to one another than exists between most men. We can do better.
—Reflection written in 3/2013
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