Letter 85: On some vain syllogisms
I had been inclined to spare you, and had omitted any knotty problems that still remained undiscussed; I was satisfied to give you a sort of taste of the views held by the men of our school, who desire to prove that virtue is of itself sufficiently capable of rounding out the happy life.
But now you bid me include the entire bulk either of our own syllogisms or of those which have been devised by other schools for the purpose of belittling us. If I shall be willing to do this, the result will be a book, instead of a letter. And I declare again and again that I take no pleasure in such proofs. I am ashamed to enter the arena and undertake battle on behalf of gods and men armed only with an awl.
“He that possesses prudence is also self-restrained; he that possesses self-restraint is also unwavering; he that is unwavering is unperturbed; he that is unperturbed is free from sadness; he that is free from sadness is happy. Therefore, the prudent man is happy, and prudence is sufficient to constitute the happy life."
I had been inclined to spare you, and had omitted any knotty problems that still remained undiscussed; I was satisfied to give you a sort of taste of the views held by the men of our school, who desire to prove that virtue is of itself sufficiently capable of rounding out the happy life.
But now you bid me include the entire bulk either of our own syllogisms or of those which have been devised by other schools for the purpose of belittling us. If I shall be willing to do this, the result will be a book, instead of a letter. And I declare again and again that I take no pleasure in such proofs. I am ashamed to enter the arena and undertake battle on behalf of gods and men armed only with an awl.
“He that possesses prudence is also self-restrained; he that possesses self-restraint is also unwavering; he that is unwavering is unperturbed; he that is unperturbed is free from sadness; he that is free from sadness is happy. Therefore, the prudent man is happy, and prudence is sufficient to constitute the happy life."
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 85
I came to philosophy early, because I felt a desperate need for answers to the fundamental questions, and I then stayed in it for the long haul, because I was amazed at how we did not merely have to assume, but we could work to offer sound reasons for our convictions. I will still maintain that this exercise must come before any other human endeavor, for the what is meaningless without the why.
I have no special gift for logic, so I take my sweet time when working through a chain of syllogisms, fully aware of how my conclusions will only be as good as the proofs that stand behind them. I have made it a lifelong effort not to confuse my preferences with my principles.
I too often come across those who take an argument to be a form of quarreling, not a form of demonstration, much like those who treat a judgment as a condemnation of another person, not as an estimation of a shared truth. This sort of conflict, driven by pride instead of prudence, is what sadly gives philosophy such a bad name.
So, while I do enjoy my syllogisms, I am, like Seneca, not so terribly fond of the endless haranguing and bickering that can easily go along with them. The example of the Stoics has taught me a little about walking away from a debate that is lacking in goodwill and common sense, though if the various factions insist on exhibiting their catalogs of disputes and grievances, I will do my best to find something of worth out of the contest.
Indeed, a contrast between the views of the Stoics and their critics might help us to overcome some confusion about the relationship of the virtues and happiness, not to vindicate this or that school, but to clarify the very truth of the matter. Unclear terms will inevitably lead us to sloppy conclusions.
If an ordered understanding can provide us with all that is necessary for a good life, then we do not need to rely on other conditions beyond our control; where self-mastery is present, all circumstances can become opportunities. If we take these definitions strictly and precisely, the Stoic train of thought establishes a sure connection between the veracity of our judgments and the quality of our happiness.
I came to philosophy early, because I felt a desperate need for answers to the fundamental questions, and I then stayed in it for the long haul, because I was amazed at how we did not merely have to assume, but we could work to offer sound reasons for our convictions. I will still maintain that this exercise must come before any other human endeavor, for the what is meaningless without the why.
I have no special gift for logic, so I take my sweet time when working through a chain of syllogisms, fully aware of how my conclusions will only be as good as the proofs that stand behind them. I have made it a lifelong effort not to confuse my preferences with my principles.
I too often come across those who take an argument to be a form of quarreling, not a form of demonstration, much like those who treat a judgment as a condemnation of another person, not as an estimation of a shared truth. This sort of conflict, driven by pride instead of prudence, is what sadly gives philosophy such a bad name.
So, while I do enjoy my syllogisms, I am, like Seneca, not so terribly fond of the endless haranguing and bickering that can easily go along with them. The example of the Stoics has taught me a little about walking away from a debate that is lacking in goodwill and common sense, though if the various factions insist on exhibiting their catalogs of disputes and grievances, I will do my best to find something of worth out of the contest.
Indeed, a contrast between the views of the Stoics and their critics might help us to overcome some confusion about the relationship of the virtues and happiness, not to vindicate this or that school, but to clarify the very truth of the matter. Unclear terms will inevitably lead us to sloppy conclusions.
If an ordered understanding can provide us with all that is necessary for a good life, then we do not need to rely on other conditions beyond our control; where self-mastery is present, all circumstances can become opportunities. If we take these definitions strictly and precisely, the Stoic train of thought establishes a sure connection between the veracity of our judgments and the quality of our happiness.
—Reflection written in 1/2014
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