Class Reflections: Cicero's On The Ends Book 1
my students get a brief introduction to Epicurean ethics
Now that our massive move to a new office and new living space is finished, I can get back to writing these reflections on what I’m leading my students through in my Foundations of Philosophy classes. We had one class session Iast week devoted to Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics books 3 and 7 which I didn’t write about, and since my back was hurting, I cancelled our class session earlier this week, which was supposed to be devoted to Cicero’s On Fate (I did suggest my students watch the videos I’ve produced on that work).
Today, we started discussing Hellenistic and Imperial Roman philosophy in earnest. I like to assign Cicero’s On The Ends books 1 and 3 as the texts that introduce my students to the Epicurean and Stoic philosophical schools, and then supplement the Stoic part with some of Seneca’s letters. In book 1, Cicero has an Epicurean, Torquatus, provide a sort of handy overview of Epicurean ethics, one that over the years I’ve come to find a bit more useful than the few texts we currently possess by Epicurus himself (if you want to learn more about those, click here).
Cicero’s overview covers a lot of the same ground that Epicurus’ Principal Doctrines, Vatican Sayings, and Letter to Menoeceus do, for example the distinctions between different types of pleasures (startc and moving, bodily and mental), the need for good practical reasoning, or the three objects of desires. But what’s particularly nice about Torquatus’ presentation is that it includes explicit and relatively systematic discussion about two other centrally important matters. These no doubt were discussed by Epicurus himself in texts that have been lost.
One of these, which we didn’t get to discussing in our class today (I had to devote a portion of class time to covering a few main ideas from On Fate) is the range of Epicurean ideas on the relationship between friendships and pleasure. The Epicureans got accused by other schools of treating friendship not just in a hedonist manner, but in one that is also at its basis egoistic, that is, concerned primarily not about the other but only about how things affect oneself. Epicureans did stress that while friendship might begin on that basis, over time, one becomes just as concerned about one’s friend’s pleasures and pains as one’s own. Cicero gives us three explanations that Epicureans put forth for how this dynamic develops.
The other really important matter that gets discussed is the Epicurean view on virtues and vices. As it turns out, Epicureans recognized and recommended the same four cardinal virtues that most other ancient Western schools or movements did. Epicureans, Stoics, Platonists, Cynics, as well as Hellenized Jewish and later Christian thinkers all stressed the need for human beings to cultivate and act upon wisdom (or prudence), justice, courage, and temperance (or self-control), if their goal is to enjoy a happy life.
Why would an Epicurean desire these states of character for themselves? As opposed to other ancient schools who viewed virtues as good in themselves, Epicureans are pretty clear that virtue is not the good. Pleasure is. And vice is not the bad. Pain is. But as Epicurus famously says: “it isn’t possible to live pleasantly without living prudently, justly, and honorably (kalōs). Notice that two of the cardinal virtues are preconditions for living a pleasant life, and the “honorably” would also presumably encompass living courageously and temperately. So while virtues aren’t valued for their own sake by Epicureans, they are necessary and indispensable means to the end of living the happy life, one with as much pleasure and as little pain as possible.
Why would that be the case? If you’re a hedonist, why not lie, cheat, steal? That is, why not be unjust? Why not indulge your sensual appetites as much as you’d like? Why not be intemperate? Why not shirk anything that seems scary, difficult, or dangerous? Why not be cowardly? For that matter, why not be foolish? Why make yourself think so much as prudence requires? The answers are pretty straightforward, and with one exception, fairly convincing, if you accept a hedonist basis for ethics.
You need prudence so that you can rightly understand what various pleasures and pains involve and are likely to lead to. You have to be able to decide which pleasures to pursue and which to forego, which pains need to be endured and which should be avoided. You need to break the spell imposed upon us by “vain opinions” (kenai doxai) that leads us to desire pleasures that are neither natural nor necessary for us as human beings. If you are a fool, simply put, your life is sooner or later going to suck.
Temperance and courage are also needed. You can’t indulge yourself in whatever pleasures come your way willy-nilly, or you’re going to preclude yourself from enjoying greater pleasures, and you’re going to land yourself in some serious pains. All pleasures are good from the Epicurean perspective, but there are plenty of them we need to say no to, or impose limits upon, and that’s the job of temperance. Courage really has more to do with taking on pains, and Epicureans used that notion in a very broad sense, where it included fears, toils, and dangers. If you can’t face these at the right times, you’ll lose out on pleasures and wind up in more pains eventually.
When we get to justice, the Epicurean case seems a little less plausible. Going all the way back to Epicurus himself, there’s a justification for being a just person advanced that essentially comes down to the actual or just potential (and feared) outcomes of unjust actions. If you violate norms, you’re likely to get punished for it. And even if your misdeeds are not discovered and punished, you always have to be worried that this will be the case. Given how many unjust people seem entirely unconcerned with getting caught, this argument seems pretty weak. At least to me it does!
As I wrap this up, I’d like to recall a point I made in a few previous posts. With these Marquette students, in this particular generation, it is often like the proverbial “pulling teeth” to get them to talk about sexual desire, pleasure, and activity. This goes for both sections of my class this semester, so it’s not just because one of them is scheduled at 8 AM! They are teenagers and early-20 somethings, mostly living in college dorms, so at least some of them have had relationships already that doubtless included some sexual experimentation and enjoyment. Doubtless some of them are engaged in it, or at the least desiring and seeking that, during their first semester at college. It’s not like I’m talking exclusively to a bunch of celibate virgins.
But to use a term I’ve employed before, they’re reticent to bring up sex when we’re discussing desires or pleasures. I’m not sure where that comes from for them. So I bring it up, sometimes jokingly, sometimes exploring matters in a thoughtful way. Today, we spent a bit of time talking about how humans like other animals have a drive for sex and seek out sexual enjoyment for purposes going beyond procreation.
And although Epicurus himself was deliberately celibate and suggested that sexual desire and pleasure was inherently problematic, that doesn’t mean that we can’t discuss what greater pleasures beyond just getting it on can emerge through engaging in sexual activity with a partner, namely the development of genuine intimacy with another person, the sharing of one’s own self through what the medievals often called “conjugal love”. I’m sure there will be more to reflect upon with this as we proceed through the semester, but this is as good a place as any to leave off for the day!