By Denise Breton and Christopher Largent, 1999
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE)—known as Cicero or Tully—was a Roman lawyer, philosopher, and statesman, educated in Rome. He became the best orator Rome had and one of the best translators and writers in Latin. Scholars still consider his works "high Latin." More than just an "ivory tower" intellectual, though, Cicero was also a courageous political activist. Risking his life, he exposed the conspiracy of Catiline to overthrow the republic.
An ardent republican, he refused to join the political alliance of Julius Caesar, Crassus, and Pompey, realizing that its success would mean the end of the republic. Even today, "Star Wars" episodes remind us of the difference between a republic (a state run on laws and principles) and an empire (run on the whims of rulers)—a difference first noted for us by Cicero.
Cicero wrote philosophy to help himself recover from the death of his beloved daughter and to endure the tyranny of Julius Caesar and Rome’s shift from a republican to an imperial nation (though he played no role in the assassination of Caesar). He eventually paid a terrible price for refusing to join one of the imperial factions: the ruling triumvirate of Octavian (later Augustus Caesar), Antony, and Lepidus had him executed.
The Good Life
Many people today use the phrase "the sword of Damocles" without knowing where it comes from. We didn’t until we found it in Cicero—and it relates to the inner life of tyrants. For those of us who are supposed to admire the wealthy and powerful, Cicero reminds us of the price they’re paying to play the power game. This account is from Cicero: On the Good Life, translated by Michael Grant, book V of "Discussions at Tusculum":
Dionysius himself [the king of Syracuse in the time of Plato] pronounced judgment on whether he was happy or not. He was talking to one of his flatterers, a man called Damocles, who praised the monarch’s wealth and power, the splendors of his regime, the immensity of his resources, and the magnificence of his palace. Never, Damocles declared, had there been a happier man than Dionysius the king.
"Very well, Damocles," replied the ruler, "since my life strikes you as so attractive, would you care to have a taste of it yourself and see what my way of living is really like?" Damocles agreed with pleasure.
So Dionysius had him installed on a golden couch covered with a superb woven coverlet embroidered with beautiful designs, and beside the couch was placed an array of sideboards loaded with gold and silver plate. . . There were perfumes and garlands and incense, and the tables were heaped up with a most elaborate feast. Damocles thought himself a truly fortunate person.
But in the middle of all this splendor, directly above the neck of the happy man, Dionysius arranged that a gleaming sword should be suspended from the ceiling, to which it was attached by a horsehair. And so Damocles had no eye for his lovely waiters or for the artistic plate. Indeed, he did not even feel like reaching out his hand towards the food. Presently the garlands, of their own accord, just slipped from his head. In the end he begged the tyrant to let him go, declaring that his desire to be happy had evaporated. (pp. 84-85)
On Clear and Free Thinking
As a philosopher, Cicero was one of the earliest to argue against dogmatism. He defined himself as a skeptic in the Platonic tradition. That is, contrary to the labeling he receives from scholars these days ("a Stoic"), Cicero conceives of himself as a follower of Plato. (The reason that scholars can’t handle this self-identification on Cicero’s part is that they keep trying to turn Plato into an absolutist.)
What this means is that Cicero feels free to search for higher meaning in life (Plato’s "ideas") while refusing to absolutize his values. Cicero wants guiding principles to live by while remaining open to learning. He doesn’t need certainty to feel secure in his intellectual adventures, and he wants the freedom from dogmatism to allow him to continue those adventures.
What’s refreshing about Cicero’s skepticism is that this openness used to be associated with mature thinking. These days, of course, the "mature" person is supposed to never change opinions. Those people who change their minds are looked down on as frivolous thinkers, having no intellectual ground to stand on. Meanwhile, the religious or scientific "experts" we meet in the media—or if we’re unlucky, in person—are absolutely convinced that they’re right and that everyone else should convert to their religious or scientific "truths." Cicero would have found these "experts" to be close-minded and immature.
The freedom Cicero found in his skepticism was the freedom not to be bound by circumstances, to find ways to rise above situations that would otherwise defeat human beings. He also wanted this freedom to help himself and others rise above the temptations that led the wealthy and the powerful to create the inhuman conditions that he saw developing in the empire.
These excerpts are from On Duties, which translator Michael Grant says, "has perhaps exercised more influence on the thought and standards of the western world than any other secular work ever written", which Cicero, a Platonist, wrote for his son, an Aristotelian:
Whereas the philosophical school I support [the Academy] maintains that nothing can be known for certain, here I am not only presenting views on all manner of subjects but actually trying to lay down rules indicating what our obligations are.
But I must ask our critics to understand our position. For in spite of our negative attitude towards the certainty of knowledge, we are far from being intellectual drifters who flounder about without any idea what we are looking for. To be without any sort of principles to base our discussions and our lives upon would totally rule out any intellectual life or indeed any life at all. . .
In fact, nothing prevents me from accepting what seems to be probable and rejecting what does not. Such an approach avoids the presumption of dogmatism and keeps clear of irrationality, which is the negation of all accurate thinking.
On the other hand, our people always argue against all categorical assertions. Their reason for so doing is that you can only get a clear view of what is probable by setting out, comparing, and weighing the arguments on both sides of every question. (p. 123)
Life and death, wealth and want, exercise an overwhelming effect on the entire human race. It is only when human beings become capable of displaying high-minded detachment and disregarding such outward circumstances, whether good or bad—when they get totally immersed in some noble, honorable purpose—that we cannot help admiring their splendid qualities.
The ability to rise above outward circumstances, then, wins special admiration, and that is why justice—which is the peculiar mark of a good person—is universally regarded as marvelous. And quite rightly. For if someone possesses this virtue, it means that he has freed himself from the fear of death, pain, exile, and poverty. In other words, he does not regard it as more important to achieve the reverses of these conditions than to behave like a decent person.
Above all, people admire someone who refuses to be influenced by money. To prove oneself in that particular direction is the equivalent of emerging triumphantly from a fiery ordeal. (p. 139)
