For what is baser than philosophy courting applause? Does the sick man praise the surgeon while he is operating? In silence and with reverent awe submit to the cure. Even though you cry applause, I shall listen to your cries as if you were groaning when your sores were touched.
Do you wish to bear witness that you are attentive, that you are stirred by the grandeur of the subject? You may do this at the proper time; I shall of course allow you to pass judgment and cast a vote as to the better course. Pythagoras made his pupils keep silence for five years; do you think that they had the right on that account to break out immediately into applause?
How mad is he who leaves the lecture-room in a happy frame of mind simply because of applause from the ignorant! Why do you take pleasure in being praised by men whom you yourself cannot praise?
Fabianus used to give popular talks, but his audience listened with self-control. Occasionally a loud shout of praise would burst forth, but it was prompted by the greatness of his subject, and not by the sound of oratory that slipped forth pleasantly and softly.
Do you wish to bear witness that you are attentive, that you are stirred by the grandeur of the subject? You may do this at the proper time; I shall of course allow you to pass judgment and cast a vote as to the better course. Pythagoras made his pupils keep silence for five years; do you think that they had the right on that account to break out immediately into applause?
How mad is he who leaves the lecture-room in a happy frame of mind simply because of applause from the ignorant! Why do you take pleasure in being praised by men whom you yourself cannot praise?
Fabianus used to give popular talks, but his audience listened with self-control. Occasionally a loud shout of praise would burst forth, but it was prompted by the greatness of his subject, and not by the sound of oratory that slipped forth pleasantly and softly.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52
I know I may come across as some deluded crackpot, obsessed with a single conspiracy theory, but I can’t help pointing out how so many of our problems arise from a fetish for play-acting. We assume our worth is determined by appearances, and so we turn life into an elaborate theater production. It does not end well for any of us.
It starts because we feel empty on the inside, and so we seek assurances from the outside. It continues when we beg the approval of others by crafting an image. It comes to a sad conclusion with an existence ruled by a desperate deception.
By our instincts we are pack animals, and by our reason we wish to share awareness with others, and yet all of this should proceed from who we are, not from how we seem. During most of the day, however, we are busy pretending, from bragging about our professional achievements to forcing those smiles for the family photos.
Just observe what happens to the people in a room as soon as someone takes out a camera. Similarly, I have recently noticed both students and colleagues who can’t spend an hour without checking how many “likes” they have accumulated on social media.
Instead of trying to impress all the worst people, thereby surrendering to the vices, I think it wiser to focus on the virtues, thereby acting in solidarity with all the best people. If I am worried first and foremost about looking good, I will be quick to take shortcuts in truly being good.
When someone demands praise, I should rather pity him; he simulates confidence while actually betraying his insecurities. If I strive to be a man of principle, neither the giving nor the receiving of applause will make me any better. I have gradually learned that silence is often a wonderful sign of genuine reverence, and hooting and hollering are often the mark of the charlatan.
Philosophy, rightly understood, is a cure for life’s deepest ills, and so it should hardly be treated like some trivial amusement—if it’s doing its job, it will hurt as it heals. Once a teacher basks in the attention, and the student is ready to pile on the flattery, rest assured that there is no learning taking place, only a whimpering of fragile egos.
There is crying out at a moment of profound insight, which stems from a love of the truth, and then there is making a boastful noise, which is a merely about striking a pose. I will know the difference as soon as I examine my intentions.
I know I may come across as some deluded crackpot, obsessed with a single conspiracy theory, but I can’t help pointing out how so many of our problems arise from a fetish for play-acting. We assume our worth is determined by appearances, and so we turn life into an elaborate theater production. It does not end well for any of us.
It starts because we feel empty on the inside, and so we seek assurances from the outside. It continues when we beg the approval of others by crafting an image. It comes to a sad conclusion with an existence ruled by a desperate deception.
By our instincts we are pack animals, and by our reason we wish to share awareness with others, and yet all of this should proceed from who we are, not from how we seem. During most of the day, however, we are busy pretending, from bragging about our professional achievements to forcing those smiles for the family photos.
Just observe what happens to the people in a room as soon as someone takes out a camera. Similarly, I have recently noticed both students and colleagues who can’t spend an hour without checking how many “likes” they have accumulated on social media.
Instead of trying to impress all the worst people, thereby surrendering to the vices, I think it wiser to focus on the virtues, thereby acting in solidarity with all the best people. If I am worried first and foremost about looking good, I will be quick to take shortcuts in truly being good.
When someone demands praise, I should rather pity him; he simulates confidence while actually betraying his insecurities. If I strive to be a man of principle, neither the giving nor the receiving of applause will make me any better. I have gradually learned that silence is often a wonderful sign of genuine reverence, and hooting and hollering are often the mark of the charlatan.
Philosophy, rightly understood, is a cure for life’s deepest ills, and so it should hardly be treated like some trivial amusement—if it’s doing its job, it will hurt as it heals. Once a teacher basks in the attention, and the student is ready to pile on the flattery, rest assured that there is no learning taking place, only a whimpering of fragile egos.
There is crying out at a moment of profound insight, which stems from a love of the truth, and then there is making a boastful noise, which is a merely about striking a pose. I will know the difference as soon as I examine my intentions.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
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