Seneca and Burrus put their lives and honor on the line over the success or failure of their political choice. Unfortunately, Seneca was also a philosopher, and one day he would be reproached for not having the expected attitude faced with a Nero, something no one would have dreamed of doing to Burrus. Face to face with the powerful, a sage would have borne witness fearlessly to the eminent dignity of his philosophical vocation… Seneca paid the price for his multiform personality: from a philosopher, a morality based on conviction was expected; but as counselor to the prince, he applied a morality of responsibility… As for politics, he pursued them in the only way still available, the recourse of so many opponents of Eastern bloc governments before 1989: keeping the torch of truth burning at least in thought. Seneca wrote as much in a text as anyone, Nero and his police included, could read: Letter 14. “Should a sage be involved in public affairs? Let us set this question aside for the moment. I will be satisfied to draw your attention to the attitude of present-day Stoics.” (Under the cover of this modest plural, Seneca means himself.) “They exclude themselves from all public activity.” (The Latin shows a willed ambiguity: it could equally well mean, “They are excluded.”) “They cultivate their private lives and have withdrawn (secesserunt) to be the legislators of the human condition, while avoiding any provocation of those more powerful than they.” Becoming, that is, prey of the despot and his police. This was the conduct Seneca himself attributed to Socrates in On Tranquillity of the Soul. Under the dictatorial oligarchy of The Thirty, with no remedy in sight and all trembling, Socrates went on preaching courage and virtue, offering “the great example of a citizen daring to walk in freedom under the eyes of the despots.” Seneca’s plan was to pretend not to see political reality, but to go on writing nonetheless, with a sincerity and ease that seemed oblivious to the tyrant and his threats; not to preach virtue in opposition to actual despotism, but also not to hide the light of truth or transgress against his principles. This is the mystery—lying in plain sight—of the Letters to Lucilius; their character as oppositional writing in such circumstances has been insufficiently stressed. Indeed, there was no possible outlet other than mute protest. On the part of the governed, any independent opinion or speech amounted to insubordination. Active politics was the privilege of the six or seven hundred members of the ruling class, and even they did not have the right to a personal opinion, but were limited to carrying out the policies of the prince. The whole arrangement was equivalent to the single party dictatorships of this century. Allowing the government to govern was not enough: warm endorsement was required and silence held as disavowal. ~ Paul Veyne, Seneca: The Life of a Stoic
Posted on: Sun, 21 Sep 2014 12:51:46 +0000
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