[11] Look, isn’t wheat grown for the express purpose of turning brown, and doesn’t it turn brown in preparation for being harvested? It is not grown for its own sake. [12] If it could talk, I suppose it would beg never to be harvested? Come, that’s actually a curse we put on people’s crop, that it not be brought to harvest. [13] Know that for humans, too, it’s no less of a curse not to die – the same as ‘Please, God, don’t let their wheat ripen, don’t let it be brought in.’ [14] But because we’re the only animals who not only die but are conscious of it even while it happens, we are beset by anxiety. The reason can only be that we do not know who we are, and have not studied what it means to be a human being – the way horse trainers, for instance, learn the ways of horses.
[15] Look at Chrysantas, though: just as he was poised to stab an enemy combatant he heard the trumpet sound retreat and froze; that’s how much he set the captain’s will above his personal welfare.22 [16] Yet even when fate calls, not one of us is prepared to obey. We suffer what we suffer not willingly, but with sobs of protest, and call it all ‘circumstances’. [17] What are circumstances? If by that you mean your situation, everything is ‘circumstances’. But if you mean ‘problems’, where’s the problem in something that was born, dying? [18] Death could come by way of a knife, torture, the sea, a piece of masonry, a despot – why do you care? ‘All roads to Hades are of equal length.’23 [19] Well, to tell you the truth, death by despot is less protracted. No despot ever took six months to cut a throat, whereas a fatal illness often lasts a year. ‘Circumstances’, ‘troubles’ – this is all a lot of noise and a clamour of meaningless names.
[20] You say, ‘I risk execution by the emperor.’
I face no less a danger here in Nicopolis, where earthquakes are a common occurrence. As to you, aren’t you risking your life every time you cross the Adriatic?
[21] ‘But even one’s opinions can get one into trouble here in Rome.’
Do you mean your own? No one can force you to hold an opinion against your will. And if you are referring to other people’s, how can their wrong opinions pose any danger to you?
[22] ‘I also face the danger of exile.’
What is exile? Being somewhere other than Rome?
‘Exactly. My God, what if I’m sent to Gyara?’ Well, if that’s tolerable for you, you will go; if not, you have the choice of another destination, the place even the person who sent you to Gyara is headed, whether they like it or not.
[23] So why make such a big deal of going to trial? It isn’t worth all the preparation. A young man with any talent might well say, ‘I wasted my time listening to so many lectures, writing so many compositions, and sitting for so long next to an old man who didn’t amount to much himself.’
[24] There is only one thing you need to remember, the rule that distinguishes what is yours from what isn’t. Don’t ever lay claim to anything belonging to others. [25] Court and prison are two places, one high, the other low. Your character, however, can be kept the same in either place – if you decide it should. [26] We will rival Socrates when we can spend our time in prison composing hymns. [27] But considering our attitude up to now, I wonder if in prison we could even stand someone else offering to read us his own compositions.
‘Don’t bother me; don’t you realize the problems I’ve got?∗ You think I can listen to poetry in my position?’
‘Why, what is it?’
‘I’m sentenced to death!’
‘And the rest of us aren’t?’
II 8 What is the substance of the good?
[1] God is helpful. Whatever is good is also helpful. It is reasonable to suppose, then, that the divine nature and the nature of the good will correspond. [2] So what is the divine nature? Is it flesh? Be serious. Do we associate it with real estate and status? Hardly. It is mind, intelligence and correct reason.
[3] So look no further than there for the substance of the good. Of course, you won’t find it in plants and animals. In man, however, it consists in just those qualities that distinguish him from other animals. [4] Since plants do not even have the power of perception, ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are not applicable to them. Evidently, ‘good’ and ‘bad’ presume the power of using impressions. [5] But is that enough? If it is, then you must speak of ‘good’ in connection with animals besides man, as well as ‘happy’ and ‘unhappy’ – [6] but there is a very good reason that you don’t. Because, however well they may use impressions, animals lack the ability to reflect on them. Nor should they have it, since they were bornto serve, not command. [7] Is the donkey in a position of command? It was created because man needed an animal with a strong back able to carry big loads; the creature had to be able to walk, as well. Which is why it was endowed with the power of using impressions – otherwise it couldn’t walk. And that is about the extent of its endowments. [8] After all, if the donkey had also acquired the ability to reflect on its use of impressions, it would quite rightly refuse to obey us and serve our needs. It would, in fact, be mankind’s equal and peer.
[9] So if it is absent from plants and animals, it’s only logical that you should look for the nature of the good where you ordinarily apply the word. [10] True, they are God’s creatures too, but not creatures placed in a position of authority, not parts of God. [11] You, on the other hand, are a creature placed in charge, and a particle of God himself; there is a bit of God within you.
[12] Why don’t you know of this relation, and of your origins? When you eat, bear in mind who it is exactly you are feeding. When you have sex, reflect who you are during the act. In conversation, exercise, discourse – do you remember that it is God you are feeding, God you are exercising? You carry God around with you and don’t know it, poor fool. [13] Don’t imagine I am talking about some external deity made of silver or gold. You carry the living God inside you and are blind to the fact that you desecrate him with your dirty words and dirty thoughts – [14] none of which you would dare repeat if there were even a mere statue of a god near by. God himself is there within, seeing and overhearing everything you do and say – and do you care? You pariah, you have no sense of your own heritage.
[15] What are we anxious about when we graduate a young man from school and out into the real world? That he will make mistakes, eat poorly, have sexual affairs, humiliate himself and go around in rags, or else affect the latest fashions. And why? [16] Because he is ignorant of his personal god and does not realize who goes with him when he leaves school and his former friends. Yet we indulge him when he writes to us to say, ‘I wish you here with me.’ [17] You have God there with you – who else do you need? Whoever you invite to come and visit – would they tell you any different?
[18] Suppose you were one of Phidias’ statues – his Zeus or his Athena.24 You would certainly have a sense of who you were then, and of who brought you into being. And if you had a brain, you would make an effort to avoid doing anything that would bring shame on either your creator or yourself, such as being caught in an embarrassing position by the spectators come to see you. [19] But Zeus has created you; shouldn’t that make you even more careful about the impression you make? What is Phidias compared to Zeus? How, for that matter, can their creations be compared? [20] What other work of art comes ready equipped with the very powers the artist displayed in making it? Do marble statues? No, nor do bronze, gold or ivory ones. The Athena of Phidias, once its arm was raised to support the statue of Victory, has maintained that pose for the duration of its long existence. Zeus’ works, on the other hand, are living, breathing creatures, with the power of perception and judgement.
[21] He made you, and you mock him. Why? He not only made you; of all his creatures, you alone were given the power of self-determination. [22] You not only ignore that, you bring shame on the faith he placed in you. You would not have been so negligent in caring for an orphan if God had put one in your way. [23] He has entrusted you to yourself, saying, ‘I had no one more dependable than you; just see that he keeps the qualities he was born
with: integrity, honour, dignity, patience, calmness and poise.’ But you can’t even do that.
[24] However, there will be people who say, ‘Why is this person so serious and self-important?’ If it seems like pretension, it’s only because I don’t have complete confidence in the principles that I’ve learned and espouse. I still fear for my own frailty. [25] But grant me the confidence, and I will show you the right look and bearing; then you will see the finished statue all bright and gleaming. [26] And don’t expect a study in smugness. After all, the Zeus at Olympia does not project an air of hauteur. He looks at us right in the eye – just the way one ought to look when on the point of saying: ‘My word is true and irrevocable.’25
[27] That is the sort of person you’ll find I am: trustworthy, honourable, noble and poised. [28] Not, to be sure, immune to death, age or disease, like God, but still prepared to die and face illness with a godlike dignity. [29] That much is mine to do, even if I cannot accomplish the rest.
In short, I will show you that I have the strength – of a philosopher. ‘And what strength would that be?’ A will that never fails to get what it wants, a faculty of aversion that always avoids what it dislikes, proper impulse, careful purpose and disciplined assent. That’s the human specimen you should prepare yourselves to see.
II 10 Social roles as a guide to conduct
[1] Who are you? In the first place, a human being, which is to say, a being possessed of no greater faculty than free choice, with all your other faculties subordinate to it, choice itself being unconfined and independent. [2] Next, consider the gift of reason: it sets you apart from wild animals; it sets you apart from sheep. [3] By virtue of these two faculties you are a member of the universe with full citizen rights; you were born not to serve but to govern, because you understand the divine order and its pattern.
[4] Now, what does the title ‘citizen’ mean? In this role, a person never acts in his own interest or thinks of himself alone, but, like a hand or foot that had sense and realized its place in the natural order, all its actions and desires aim at nothing except contributing to the common good. [5] Therefore, philosophers rightly say, ‘If a good person knew that sickness, death or disability lay in his future, he would actually invite them, because he realizes that this is part of the universal plan and that the universe has precedence over a constituent, and the city over any one citizen. [6] But since we don’t know the future, we’re justified in sticking to things that are preferable by nature, because this, after all, is our instinct from birth.’
[7] Next, remember that you are somebody’s son. What does this social role mean? It means regarding everything of yours as belonging to your father as well, always letting him have his way, never trying to hurt him with your words or actions, or griping about him behind his back. Defer to him at every opportunity, and in the same spirit cooperate with him as best you can.
[8] Next, know that you are a brother. This role also calls for deference, respect and civility. Never get into family fights over material things; give them up willingly, and your moral standing will increase in proportion. [9] Make a gift of your box seat in the theatre, or a bit of food, if that’s at stake, and see the gratitude you get in return – how much greater it is than the sacrifice.
[10] Finally, reflect on the other social roles you play. If you are a council member, consider what a council member should do. If you are young, what does being young mean, if you are old, what does age imply, [11] if you are a father, what does fatherhood entail? Each of our titles, when reflected upon, suggests the acts appropriate to it.
[12] If you go off and yell at your brother, my reaction is to say, ‘You’ve forgotten who you are and what you stand for.’ [13] I mean, if you were a metalworker who fumbled with his tools, you would have lost touch with the metalworker you once were. If you forget what it means to be a brother and become your brother’s enemy, don’t think you’ve made a trivial exchange. [14] If you are transformed from a decent, social human being into some mean, snarling, dangerous beast, is there no loss involved? Or do you have to lose money before you feel penalized? Is losing money the only loss that counts with us?
[15] If you lost the capacity to read, or play music, you would think it was a disaster, but you think nothing of losing the capacity to be honest, decent and civilized. [16] Yet those other misfortunes come from some outside cause, while these are your own fault. Moreover, it is neither honourable to have those other abilities nor dishonourable to lose them, whereas it is dishonourable to lose these capacities and a misfortune for which we have only ourselves to blame. [17] A catamite is deprived of his manhood, his seducer is no longer the man he was either, and is compromised in a hundred other ways besides. [18] An adulterer does away with a just, decent and honourable human being – the good neighbour and citizen he might have been. A sorehead incurs one kind of loss, a coward another – [19] but no one is bad without loss or penalty of some kind.
Now, if you look for their penalty in terms of money, you might find them all safe and scot-free; they could even be helped and rewarded for their offence if they gain by it financially. [20] But, if money is your only standard, then consider that, by your lights, someone who loses their nose does not suffer any harm.
‘Yes they do, they’re maimed physically.’
[21] But what if they are deprived just of the sense of smell – in other words, isn’t there an associated psychic faculty, which is good to have and a misfortune to lose?
[22] ‘What do you mean by “psychic faculty”?’
Aren’t we born with a sense of fairness?
‘We are.’
If you destroy it, is there no harm, is nothing sacrificed, don’t we lose something dear? [23] Don’t we have an innate sense of honour, a sense of benevolence, a sense of kindness and compassion? Well, if someone willingly parts with these sensibilities, do you suppose they go unpunished and unhurt?
[24] ‘Well, does that mean that if someone wrongs me I shouldn’t hurt them in return?’ First of all, look at what wrongdoing is and remember what you have heard about it from philosophers.26 [25] Because if ‘good’ as well as ‘bad’ really relate to our choices, then consider whether your position does not amount to saying something like, [26] ‘Well, since that guy hurt himself with the injustice he did me, shouldn’t I wrong him in order to hurt myself in retaliation?’
[27] So why don’t we actually picture it to ourselves this way? Instead, we see injury only where physical or financial loss is incurred, whereas if the loss stems from our own choices, then we don’t suspect any harm has been done. [28] After all, we don’t get a headache after an error in judgement or an act of injustice; we don’t get eye trouble or stomach ache, we don’t lose property. [29] And for us those are the only things that matter. As to whether our character will remain loyal and honest, or become false and depraved, we don’t care about that in the least – except insofar as it comes up for examination in school; [30] the result being that our debating skills improve at the cost of our character.
II 11 Starting philosophy
[1] People who come to philosophy the right way – by the front door, as it were – begin by acknowledging their own faults and limitations in areas of most urgency. [2] The isosceles triangle and the half-tone or quarter-tone scale – we have no knowledge pertaining to these subjects when we come into the world. We have to learn about them later through specialized training; with the result that no one untrained in these subjects pretends to know about them.
[3] The situation is otherwise in the case of our ideas about good and bad, right and wrong, appropriate and inappropriate, happiness, duty, and obligation. We are born with an innate understanding of what these words mean. [4] So everyone uses them, which is to say, everyone tries to apply the related preconceptions to specific things. [5] ‘Her action was good, it was her duty, it was not her duty, she was fortunate, she was not fortunate, she is honest, she is dishonest…’ You hear such phrases all the time, because no one is in any
doubt about how to use the words. No one feels they have to wait to be told their meaning, the way we once had to learn our letters or be taught how words are pronounced. [6] The reason is that we come into the world knowing some things that nature, you might say, has taught us already; and, building on this knowledge, we come to form our opinions.
[7] ‘Well, whatever you may say, I know good from bad, and have an idea of the good.’
You have one, I allow.
‘And I put it into practice.’
You use it in specific instances, yes.
‘And I use it correctly.’
[8] Well, that’s the crux, because this is where opinions become an issue. Starting with the ideas we take for granted, we get into arguments whenever we apply them incorrectly. [9] If, along with the innate ideas, we came into the world with knowledge of how they should be applied, we would be perfect wise men from the moment we were born.
[10] Now, you think that you do possess this extra knowledge of how to apply preconceptions in particular instances. How did you come by it?
‘It’s my opinion.’
But someone else has a different opinion, and also believes that he is the one applying his preconceptions correctly. Am I right?
‘I guess so.’
[11] And if you clash over the application of preconceptions, you can’t both be using them correctly.
‘Agreed.’
[12] Well, can you come up with a better aid to their application than your opinion? I mean, a lunatic acts in accordance with his own opinion of what is good; but in his case can it function as an adequate guide?
‘No.’
So let’s move beyond opinion; is there nothing better?
[13] Here you have philosophy’s starting point: we find that people cannot agree among themselves, and we go in search of the source of their disagreement. In time, we come to scorn and dismiss simple opinion, and look for a way to determine if an opinion is right or wrong. At last, we focus on finding a standard that we can invoke, just as the scale was invented to measure weights, and the carpenter’s rule devised to distinguish straight from crooked. [14] That is the beginning of philosophy.