M. They say that even grief, which we have already said ought to be avoided as a monstrous and fierce beast, was appointed by nature, not without some good purpose, in order that men should lament when they had committed a fault, well knowing they had exposed themselves to correction, rebuke, and ignominy; for they think that those who can bear ignominy and infamy without pain have acquired a complete impunity for all sorts of crimes; for with them reproach is a stronger check than conscience.
From whence we have that scene in Afranius borrowed from common life; for when the abandoned son says, “Wretched that I am!”
The severe father replies,“Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.”
And they say the other divisions of sorrow have their use; that pity incites us to hasten to the assistance of others, and to alleviate the calamities of men who have undeservedly fallen into them; that even envy and detraction are not without their use, as when a man sees that another person has attained what he cannot, or observes another to be equally successful with himself; that he who should take away fear would take away all industry in life, which those men exert in the greatest degree who are afraid of the laws and of the magistrates, who dread poverty, ignominy, death, and pain.
But while they argue thus, they allow indeed of these feelings being retrenched, though they deny that they either can or should be plucked up by the roots; so that their opinion is that mediocrity is best in everything. When they reason in this manner, what think you—is what they say worth attending to or not?
A. I think it is. I wait, therefore, to hear what you will say in reply to them.
From whence we have that scene in Afranius borrowed from common life; for when the abandoned son says, “Wretched that I am!”
The severe father replies,“Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.”
And they say the other divisions of sorrow have their use; that pity incites us to hasten to the assistance of others, and to alleviate the calamities of men who have undeservedly fallen into them; that even envy and detraction are not without their use, as when a man sees that another person has attained what he cannot, or observes another to be equally successful with himself; that he who should take away fear would take away all industry in life, which those men exert in the greatest degree who are afraid of the laws and of the magistrates, who dread poverty, ignominy, death, and pain.
But while they argue thus, they allow indeed of these feelings being retrenched, though they deny that they either can or should be plucked up by the roots; so that their opinion is that mediocrity is best in everything. When they reason in this manner, what think you—is what they say worth attending to or not?
A. I think it is. I wait, therefore, to hear what you will say in reply to them.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.20
This is a point where many people will, along with the Auditor, object to Cicero’s line of reasoning. We have grown so accustomed to defining ourselves exclusively by our emotional states that we believe the intensity of the feeling to be the measure of our moral worth: surely being good is all about being passionate?
Recall, however, that Cicero, in this case together with the Stoics, is not arguing for any repression of desire, but rather for a moderation of desire, where we do not allow our feeling to be at war with our thinking. The difference between ordered and disordered emotions depends on whether or not they are in harmony with reason, for the right kinds of attachments and aversions will proceed from the right kinds of judgments.
Simply put, if you start with a confused mind, you will end up with a troubled heart; an informed conscience is the only way to bring peace to our passions. Using the old Stoic distinctions, gratification, lust, grief, and fear are the consequences of an unhealthy attitude, yet joy, wish, and caution are the consequences of a healthy attitude. Remember, of course, that we need not dwell upon a “reasonable” sort of grief, since any present evil can be overcome by a change in our own assessment of the true human good.
We should understand Cicero’s view in this larger context, and so also be on our guard against any claims about manipulating people’s behavior by appealing to their extreme emotions. Properly nurture a man’s reason, respecting his capacity to choose freely, and there will be no call for such crude constraints. Work from the inside out, not from the outside in.
I have often heard it said that grief is necessary to feel shame, or that pity is the best means to practicing charity, or that envy is a condition for achieving success, or that fear is what will force us to obey the law. If such feelings do come to us, let us certainly make good use of them, but we are made to transform them, not to encourage them.
No, a man will hardly become “better” by being urged into an ever more frantic mood: he will have lost control of his own faculties, and any external resemblance to virtue this might produce will be nothing but a perverse caricature. Teach him to embrace the best in his nature, rather than to merely settle for the worst in his nature, and inspire him to reach for excellence, instead of wallowing in his mediocrity.
There was nothing just about Judas returning the silver from a sense of anguish. Do not confuse the condescension of a politician with a service to the poor man. The jealousy of Achilles did not make him a finer warrior. My terror at being locked in a cage is no incentive to love.
At the risk of becoming even more unpopular, I will suggest that the failure of our schools, workplaces, and courts is due precisely to the philosophical blunder of tricking the passions instead of taming them.
This is a point where many people will, along with the Auditor, object to Cicero’s line of reasoning. We have grown so accustomed to defining ourselves exclusively by our emotional states that we believe the intensity of the feeling to be the measure of our moral worth: surely being good is all about being passionate?
Recall, however, that Cicero, in this case together with the Stoics, is not arguing for any repression of desire, but rather for a moderation of desire, where we do not allow our feeling to be at war with our thinking. The difference between ordered and disordered emotions depends on whether or not they are in harmony with reason, for the right kinds of attachments and aversions will proceed from the right kinds of judgments.
Simply put, if you start with a confused mind, you will end up with a troubled heart; an informed conscience is the only way to bring peace to our passions. Using the old Stoic distinctions, gratification, lust, grief, and fear are the consequences of an unhealthy attitude, yet joy, wish, and caution are the consequences of a healthy attitude. Remember, of course, that we need not dwell upon a “reasonable” sort of grief, since any present evil can be overcome by a change in our own assessment of the true human good.
We should understand Cicero’s view in this larger context, and so also be on our guard against any claims about manipulating people’s behavior by appealing to their extreme emotions. Properly nurture a man’s reason, respecting his capacity to choose freely, and there will be no call for such crude constraints. Work from the inside out, not from the outside in.
I have often heard it said that grief is necessary to feel shame, or that pity is the best means to practicing charity, or that envy is a condition for achieving success, or that fear is what will force us to obey the law. If such feelings do come to us, let us certainly make good use of them, but we are made to transform them, not to encourage them.
No, a man will hardly become “better” by being urged into an ever more frantic mood: he will have lost control of his own faculties, and any external resemblance to virtue this might produce will be nothing but a perverse caricature. Teach him to embrace the best in his nature, rather than to merely settle for the worst in his nature, and inspire him to reach for excellence, instead of wallowing in his mediocrity.
There was nothing just about Judas returning the silver from a sense of anguish. Do not confuse the condescension of a politician with a service to the poor man. The jealousy of Achilles did not make him a finer warrior. My terror at being locked in a cage is no incentive to love.
At the risk of becoming even more unpopular, I will suggest that the failure of our schools, workplaces, and courts is due precisely to the philosophical blunder of tricking the passions instead of taming them.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
IMAGE: Rembrandt, Judas Returning the Thirty Silver Pieces (1629)
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