Amongst all insights gained by Seneca, his recipe for handling pessimism is particularly remarkable. I find it perennial in its validity and universal in its applications. Few philosophers have analysed this issue as profoundly as Seneca, and even fewer have come up with useful recommendations. I can sum up Seneca’s recipe for handling pessimism in one brief metaphor. Instead of adopting a fearful, worrisome view of the world, we should imitate the insouciance of dogs, cats or any other wild species. On good and bad days, they keep walking around, looking for food. They fail in most of their attempts to chase a prey or obtain food, but they keep trying nonetheless. Even when they succeed, they seldom get their favourite food, but they enjoy it anyway. Last but not least, when things turn for the worse, they look for solutions without exaggerating the problem. Their attention and capabilities are focused on addressing the problem at hand, leaving no time for blowing up future risks out of proportion. Seneca did not employ the metaphor of animal insouciance, but his Letters to Lucilius provide advice that corresponds one hundred per cent to this metaphor. I am referring in particular to the 49th, the 92nd and the 24th Letters. In the 49th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca addresses the question of how to face adversity. Life is full of crises, some of them heavier than others. When Seneca wrote the 49th Letter, he was surrounded by war and violence, fearing for his own safety. Even in the worst circumstances, it pays to keep going and making the best of each day, Seneca concludes. “Some people live a long life, but they waste most of their time,” he notes. It’s up to us to seize the available opportunities each day without wasting time with complaints. Thus, my metaphor for dogs and cats, or wild animals. Seneca considers a pure time waste to engage in pessimistic thinking. In his own situation, amidst bitter military hostilities, he could spend the whole day agonizing over the risk that “this might be the last day of my life.” Such a pessimistic attitude is useless and counterproductive. We should rather imitate cats and dogs in their ability to stay relatively insouciant in times of trouble. They keep going each day, not wasting time agonizing over potential risks. Seneca complements this important insight in the 49th Letter to Lucilius, where he reminds us of the human ability to deal with adversity. I would call it a formula for attaining happiness to the maximum extent possible. The philosopher knows how to deal with negative elements and make the best of each day. In the original Latin text, Seneca is referring to any material setback, external or internal. For instance, he is talking about health problems as much as material poverty. I have translated this concept by “negative elements beyond his control.” In my metaphor, I refer to the animals’ contentment in cases where they do not find their favourite type of food. This covers the great majority of cases. Nonetheless, they are happy to eat whatever is available and call it a day. We should not grow pessimistic by the fact that we have not yet achieved our goals, or due to the uncertainty of ever getting to our desired destination, argues Seneca. In the 92nd Letter to Lucilius, Seneca affirmed that we can deal successfully with anger. It has taught me that our soul enables us to deal with negative issues and elevate us above a purely perceptual level. In this area, we are far better equipped than dogs, cats or any other creature. Seneca emphasises the need to maintain our equanimity and keep pessimism at bay. In this respect, I must mention Publius Rufus Rutilius (2nd century BC) as an illustration of the human ability to deal with setbacks and still find happiness. Rutilius was twice prosecuted on dubious ground, absolved the first time, but the second time sent into exile. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/seneca-on-handling-pessimism/

I pity those who ignore the lessons from antique thinkers because they are leaving remarkable wisdom on the table. It is a sign of deep ignorance to categorise Socrates (470-399 BC), Plato (427-347 BC) and Aristotle (384-322 BC) as impractical, and to sustain that their works are no longer worth studying. Curiously enough, Seneca often battled with prior Greek and Roman thinkers; he regarded their conclusions as superficial or incomplete, and claimed for himself the credit of having discovered a higher truth. Are those debates too theoretical? No, not at all. Does it make a real difference whether we favour modern thinkers to the detriment of the ancients? Yes, it makes a large difference because it is costly to acquire wisdom. If we foolishly discard our intellectual inheritance, we may prove unable to replace it when things turn from the worse. If we fail to absorb the wisdom from the past here and now, we’ll miss those insights when we need them badly. Seneca made this mistake in his treatment of doubts, fears, and threats. In his 90th Letter to Lucilius, he put aside the ideas and wisdom of Posidonius (135-50 BC) all too quickly and all too recklessly, just because Posidonius was not a Stoic. Let’s not forget that Posidonius had written fifty-two history books that, in Seneca’s lifetime, constituted the most accurate record of the late Roman Republic. Those books contained lots of details about philosophy, psychology and culture. Posidonius’ works gave a first-hand account of how Ancient Romans addressed problems, individually and societally. Their stories illustrated especially how people dealt effectively with doubts and fears. In the 90th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca discards all inherited wisdom as fruitless, and calls for “returning to nature” in terms of clothing, nourishment, habitation and social mores. He calls Posidonius’ reflections undesirable because they make our life easier and safer. Seneca expects readers to use their philosophical skills to overcome doubts, fears, poverty and lack of comfort, but fails to realise the high cost associated with his recommendation. This error becomes obvious when Seneca, discussing how people protect themselves from cold, puts on an equal footing primitive fur clothing and a well-built, comfortable home. Who can affirm truthfully that the former is as good as the latter? Antique philosophy teaches us how to overcome doubts and fears by thinking rationally. This entails employing the insights and resources available in our culture. It would be foolish to go back in history and discard the knowledge accumulated by our predecessors. In the 39th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca somewhat remedies his mistake because he praises a moderate lifestyle as the essential Stoic strategy for dealing with doubts and fears. He speaks in favour of “aiming high when following our natural drives” and avoiding excesses. Stoicism calls for dissolving doubts and fears through daily virtue. Seneca does not expect his readers to deploy impossible levels of willpower and determination. His method is soft and incremental, and simply encourages us to live in accordance with nature. In the 39th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca regards “uncontrolled passions” as the most dangerous enemy to Stoic virtue. His call for a tempered, moderate lifestyle summarises his prescription against doubts and fears. Does Seneca’s recipe work in real life? Only to the extent that we complement it with state-of-the-art knowledge. Unless we adopt Posidonius’ love for existing know-how, chances are that our attempt to “return to nature” will create more problems than it solves. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/seneca-on-overcoming-doubts-and-fears/

How many people do you know that are able to remain calm under extreme pressure? My guess is that you know very few. I can count those I know with the fingers of one hand. Serenity is not taught in school, and when people most need it, then it is far too late to acquire it. Seneca came up with effective strategies for staying calm under pressure, although, to be fair, I must point out that he built on the ideas of Zeno of Citium (334-262 BC), Cleanthes (330-230 BC) and Chrysippus (279-206 BC). The most important innovation of Seneca’s in this respect is that he combined the ancient Stoic wisdom with the doctrines of Epicurus (341-270 BC). The resulting advice carries, in my view, a much heavier weight than the ideas of prior Stoics. Seneca addressed this matter fragmentarily in the 22nd and 75th Letters to Lucilius. We need to pick up those separate observations and put them together into a powerful recipe that can be still employed today. In the 75th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca conveys the idea that most people tend to suffer gratuitously due to their poor habits. If they practised Stoicism, he argues, they would be protected from “the surrounding horrors and temptations.” Seneca affirms that the only valid method for staying calm under pressure is “to break with bad habits and tendencies.” He is referring to the severe fear that handicaps individuals when they are confronted to sickness, poverty or social exclusion. For staying calm under pressure, Seneca’s prescription calls for adopting good habits (intellectual and physical habits) and practising them day after day. Seneca strongly condemns individuals who are willing to practise virtue when it is already too late. He is employing the wording “people who practise virtue only sporadically.” Let us take note of this recommendation as the first step for staying calm under pressure. From those Letters, I have concluded that it is not generally a bad idea to complain and give other people too many details about our problems. If we do so, those problems will remain unsolved and the pressure will not relent. Seneca acknowledges that “conversation can appear deeply appealing, almost like love or drinking wine,” but we shouldn’t engage in counterproductive actions when we are surrounded by trouble. There is a high risk, argues Seneca, that lamentations would make things worse. Instead of solving the underlying problem, there is a high risk that those conversations would elicit “envy, disdain, fear or hatred.” Those elements can surely not help us to stay calm under pressure. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/senecas-advice-on-staying-calm-under-pressure/

Despite his extensive philosophising, Seneca never showed a systematic approach to philosophy. His Letters to Lucilius employ hundreds of times the word “virtue,” but do not connect it to metaphysics, epistemology, politics, aesthetics or to the Aristotelian tradition. Seneca was a gifted writer, but not a systematic thinker. His goal was to prevent misery more than to promote happiness. In his works, we are led to assume that he knew the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle, but he does very little to prove this point. How can I then summarise Seneca’s insights? I will do so in seven principles that condense the essence of his philosophical works. These seven ideas are spread all over Seneca’s works. It would take days for anyone to go through all of Seneca’s works and come to these conclusions: Life is to a great extent unpredictable, and philosophy is the best tool for navigating the uncertainty. In his 71st and 88th Letters to Lucilius, Seneca acknowledges that Stoicism views philosophy as the study of virtue, but the study is not a purely theoretical study. The goal of philosophy is to help us make good decisions, especially when we only possess incomplete information. Even if living conditions have improved enormously since the times of Ancient Rome, Seneca’s insights remain true: Every person is going to be confronted, sooner or later, with setbacks, failure and sickness. Wisdom is philosophy in practice. Seneca employs the metaphor of the voyage in the 71st Letter to Lucilius. This Letter prompts me to conclude that, if life is a voyage, then philosophy shows us the goal, and wisdom delineates the path to follow. Wisdom is the skill that we acquire through careful, detailed and sustained study of philosophy. It is a skill that protects our serenity when things turn for the worse. In those Letters to Lucilius, Seneca fails to quote Aristotle (384-322 BC) and his “Nicomachean Ethics” and “Eudemian Ethics,” which also conceived ethics as a practical science, but one that is fully consistent with other branches of philosophy. I miss in Seneca this concern for consistency and integration. Stoicism admits that philosophy also deals with politics, nature, aesthetics and logic, but in practice, pays little attention to those matters. Seneca focused almost exclusively on ethics, just as the prior Stoics had done. The extant works of Cleanthes (330-230 BC), Chrysippus (279-206 BC) and Zeno of Citium (334-262 BC) don’t contain many disquisitions on logic, aesthetics and politics. Peace of mind was their priority and everything else came second. Seneca calls for concentrating our efforts on learning all the intricacies of Stoicism. In the 32nd Letter to Lucilius, he is condemning those who make material abundance their priority because, in doing so, they are unlikely to find happiness. Stoicism, says Seneca in the 32nd Letter, can render us calm, peaceful and satisfied. Later Stoics, such as Marcus Aurelius (121-180 AD) and Epictetus (55-135 AD) gave more weight to minimising suffering and increasing our resilience. Philosophy is for practising, not for preaching. Seneca is often coming back to this idea in his Letters to Lucilius and in his essays “On the Constancy of the Wise” and “On the Happy Life.” He views it as a waste of time to try to convince other people to change their ideas and lifestyle. In the 29th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca considers philosophical proselytism ineffective because it is doomed to fail most of the time. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/senecas-philosophy-explained/

Amongst all paths to serenity, the one delineated by Seneca is the most straightforward. It rests on a single principle that can be applied to all problems and circumstances that we encounter in life. Seneca’s path to serenity has been proven effective through twenty centuries of experience. In contrast to the recipes given by Marcus Aurelius (121-180 AD) and Epictetus (55-135 AD), Seneca’s path can be summarised in one word: flexibility. Nowadays, most people regard themselves as flexible, but is it really true? Does their flexibility correspond to Seneca’s idea as presented in his Letters to Lucilius? Surely not. Seneca was not referring to the willingness to eat fish and chips instead of hamburger, or take the early flight when later flights are fully booked. His conception of flexibility is wider and deeper. In the 36th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca underlines the fleeting nature of life and exhorts us to practice virtue. It has led me to conclude that most problems pale when we accept the fact that, one day, we will pass away, just like every other human being. The philosophical mind looks at the present and the future at the same time. In doing so, it strengthens its resolve to enjoy each day to the maximum. Stoicism calls for mental flexibility, for the ability to weigh the pros and cons of each situation, and automatically gravitate to the best alternative. Cleanthes (330-230 BC) personified the idea of flexibility because he was willing to take a succession of menial jobs to fund his philosophical quest. Seneca’s meaning of flexibility encompasses the willingness to relocate, change professions, change friends, accept failure and setbacks as a normal part of life, and cope with dire illness if need be. His concept of flexibility was as radical as one can imagine nowadays. In the 67th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca explains how to lead a happy life, but it does not tell us, for instance, how to cope with debilitating illness. Instead of complaining about poor health, should we declare ourselves happy that, due to our illness, we can devote more time to reading or music? Seneca enumerates many setbacks that confront individuals in the course of their existence: War, physical injuries, material privations or accidents of all sorts. What to do in those cases? The fool will waste his energy crying and complaining. His goal is to elicit compassion from other people, and obtain help and comfort. The problem is that, even if he succeeds, he will remain anxious about the future. His supporters might change their mind, or his problems might grow worse over time. Seneca explains that the path to serenity consists of patience and flexibility. The Stoic regards problems as the price we pay to be alive. No problems, explains Seneca, means death. In the 67th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca is quoting Demetrius, a philosopher who had compared a smooth life to a “dead sea.” I find the idea of a totally smooth life unrealistic anyway, but the point made by Seneca is that, even if it was possible, it would prevent us from developing our intellectual and physical skills. Seneca was referring to Demetrius, a contemporary of his, more closely associated with the Cynics than with the Stoics. Curiously enough, Demetrius also endured exile under the rule of Nero, just as Seneca had done. Flexibility entails the automatic capability to see the hidden benefits that go hand in hand with seemingly dire situations. In the 81st Letter to Lucilius, Seneca encourages readers to count their blessings and express gratitude at every opportunity. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/senecas-path-to-serenity/

Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) had no understanding of the concept of justice, and what is even worse, he did not care. As a result, his version of Stoicism lost touch with the social and economic fibre of the Roman Empire. It would have been easy for Seneca to endorse the doctrines of Aristotle (384-322 BC) on justice. In the “Eudemian Ethics” and the “Nicomachean Ethics,” Aristotle considered justice a major virtue. A rational man aims at giving each person his due, Aristotle argued. Fairness and justice arise from the human capacity to think. Animals have no concept of justice, and no expectations thereof. Without rationality, we cannot determine who deserves what, who owns what, and who has earned what. Seneca gained important insights on the subject of serenity, equanimity and happiness, but he would have done even better if he had devoted some time to reflecting about justice. He did acknowledge the problems caused by malfeasance and abuse, but without pointing to their root cause. The 47th Letter to Lucilius exemplifies Seneca’s astonishing indifference to injustice. It recounts that Calvisius Sabinus, a Roman aristocrat, had mistreated his servants, but fails to rate Sabinus’ behaviour as evil. Instead of condemning Sabinus for mistreating his servants, Seneca expresses his dislike for Sabinus’ ignorance in matters of literature and social decorum. The Letter demonstrates deep moral and social blindness on Seneca’s side. Obliviousness to justice is a general problem affecting Stoic thinkers. In the ensuing generations, Marcus Aurelius (121-180 AD) and Epictetus (55-135 AD) show slightly more sensitivity for justice than Seneca, but their passive acceptance of abuses remains worrying. What about earlier Stoics? Zeno of Citium (334-262 BC), Cleanthes (330-230 BC) and Chrysippus (279-206 BC) had not remained insensitive to injustice, but they viewed it as a source of suffering that cannot be eradicated. For Seneca, philosophy is a balsam for the victims of abuse, mistreatment and other injustices, but its effects are limited in scope. The balsam may heal existing injuries, but does nothing to prevent new abuses from occurring. Due to Seneca’s underlying indifference for justice, I find it difficult to take his advice for victims seriously. The 47th Letter to Lucilius affirms that “only the practice of virtue can help us secure happiness,” but does not mention justice a single time. Seneca systematically avoided social or economic criticism. I have not found in all his writings even a couple of paragraphs commenting on Aristotle’s theory of justice. The avoidance of this sensitive subject is of course deliberate, not unintentional. In comparison, Seneca devoted hundreds of pages to issues of little importance. As a salient illustration, I can point to the 15th Letter to Lucilius, which criticises pointless exercise. The banality of its contents barely justifies the cost of the paper that Seneca employed for writing it. In any case, I think that Seneca should have rather praised the benefits of moderate exercise. Seneca arrives at the wrong conclusion that we should not expect too much from life. He regards failure and injustice as perennial and universal, as something we cannot avoid even if we deploy our best efforts. The 67th and 78th Letters to Lucilius present shipwreck (in a figurative manner) as normal. We can choose a good pilot for our ship and he can deploy his best efforts, but a storm may appear out of nowhere and cause the ship to sink. As philosophers, Seneca says, our job consists of fortifying our soul, so that we can cope with shipwrecks (setbacks). His most definite statement reads as follows: “Neither poverty nor suffering nor any other storm can have negative effects on wise individuals.” I couldn’t disagree more and I regret that Seneca missed the point completely. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/senecas-teachings-on-justice/

Romantic literature defends the thesis that it is better to go through ups and downs in life rather than leading a smooth and peaceful existence. I have my doubts about their exaltation of adventure, but when it comes to real life, none of us is afforded the luxury of perfect smoothness and peace. Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) was conscious of the detrimental role played by heartbreak and grief in human existence. Some men and women bring about their own misery, for instance because they engage in reckless behaviour; others are simply victims of circumstances. In all cases, heartbreak and grief can make bad situations even worse. I reckon that, amongst all Stoic philosophers, Seneca gave the most sensible advice for dealing with heartbreak and grief. His recommendations remain valuable today, twenty centuries after he had consigned them to paper, but require some minor adaptations. Seneca provides his universal prescription in the 20th Letter to Lucilius, where he advises us to “moderate our desires,” although in a different context. His views are drawn from three centuries earlier, from the writings of Epicurus (341-270 BC). The 20th Letter is coupling the material with the intangible by referring to Epicurus advice to Pythocles: The best way to grow wealthier is to moderate one’s desires. Seneca is using the quotation from Epicurus in the sense of physical desires and professional ambitions, amongst others. How does this recommendation apply to individuals that are suffering from heartache or grief? Their suffering comes from the desire to have reality changed, recover their lost fortune, get their lost friend back, or resurrect their deceased spouse. Seneca calls for moderating our desires in good times and bad times; excessive ambition will prove as pernicious as blind faith in the impossible. The wise man knows the difference between fantasy and feasibility, and avoids the former. Heartache and grief are aggravated when individuals look at others that seem to enjoy vast advantages. The impression that other people are luckier can magnify one’s feelings of misery. I find it sensible of Seneca’s to clarify, also in the 20th Letter, that such public images of power and wealth tend to be transient. Seneca remarks that many people who occupy a powerful or influential position will be quickly forgotten upon their passing and nobody will pay homage to their feats. It is thus irrational to compare oneself to public images that may not depict solid achievement or enjoyment. Heartbreak and grief are best combatted by focusing on the best kind of role models: people who have surmounted failure and hardships. I’m referring to individuals who have personally experienced setbacks and have emerged triumphant. In the 33rd Letter to Lucilius, Seneca warns us against weak role models. Victims of heartache and grief should pay special attention to this recommendation. Seneca invoked Pythagoras (6th century BC) as an example of teachers “who not only talk, but also do as they say.” Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/seneca-on-dealing-with-heartbreak-and-grief/

Disappointments can have dire consequences. I am referring to the victims of lies, deception or treason, to people who find themselves left behind when their rightful expectations crash. I pity those who prove unable to deal with disappointments and get back on their feet because their lives may be shortened. Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) provided excellent advice about how to deal with disappointments, but his insights are spread all over his writings. I regard the “Consolation to Polybius” as particularly relevant in this respect. Some experts question whether Seneca was its real author, but the matter has not been finally settled. Polybius, a friend of Seneca’s, was the personal secretary of Emperor Claudius (10-54 AD). His job was to handle all state correspondence in Rome and with the provinces. Seneca wrote to Polybius to console him about his brother’s death, and gave advice equally suitable for dealing with disappointments. Seneca recommended to Polybius to avoid lamentations and focus on his work, which was interesting, meaningful and very demanding. When we concentrate on productive tasks, Seneca explained, we automatically stop thinking about other subjects. Polybius was also reminded that his distress was normal and inevitable. Everybody experiences losses of friends and family members now and then. The same applies to disappointments: now and then, we all see our expectations crashed, unfulfilled, or destroyed. Seneca does not blame Polybius for blowing up the impact of his brother’s death out of proportion, but in the case of deep disappointments, we should first look for the cause within our beliefs and actions. Where the 50th Letter to Lucilius says that we should check the facts carefully before making major decisions, it prompts me to think of Theophrastus (370-288 BC). Nevertheless, I cannot ascertain if Seneca had gained this insight from reading Theophrastus, a thinker who had already observed that we can avoid disappointments if we check the facts before committing ourselves emotionally. The insights of Theophrastus mirror those of Aristotle (384-322 BC) in the “Eudemian Ethics” and “Nicomachean Ethics.” If we want to prevent disappointments, deception and betrayal, it is up to us to practise the virtue of justice, and assess people and events accurately. Disappointments can be substantially minimised if we judge people and circumstances correctly. In life, large numbers of disappointments are to be blamed on the victims, on their naive assessments of risks, on their outlandish expectations, or their underestimation of costs. However, Seneca didn’t consistently call for proportionality and reason. If he had followed Theophrastus’ advice, he might have lived longer. If he had assessed risks more accurately, he might have avoided disappointments carrying harsh, deadly consequences. I consider it abominable when Seneca adopts a pessimistic, defeatist tone which categorises disappointments as inevitable, and identifies resignation as the only possible response. This is the case of the 26th Letter to Lucilius, where Seneca makes an exhortation reminiscent of Epicurus (341-270 BC). The latter had told his disciples to prepare for death, meaning that they should keep in mind their limited lifespan, and not expect too much joy or pleasure. If we proceed according to this insight, we will likely shun disappointments, but we might also shun happiness. I regard such a piece of advice as potentially pernicious. Seneca’s best recommendations are those given to Polybius: stop complaining and focus on interesting work. Failing that, we can focus on interesting hobbies, persons, books, movies or any other activity that can capture our attention and steer us in the right direction. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/seneca-on-how-to-deal-with-disappointments/

In our century, motivation seminars have become a sizeable industry. Companies send their employees to those seminars in the hope of increasing sales, productivity and innovation, but it is hard to keep people motivated month after month, especially during periods of economic stagnation. Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) didn’t invent the motivation seminar, but he achieved the same effect by writing letters and essays. If a friend had lost a beloved family member, Seneca would give him advice about how to regain motivation. The same applies to letters that Seneca wrote to friends confronted with setbacks or illness. In the next paragraphs, I’m condensing Seneca’s best advice on motivation, pointing in each case to the original source. The examples I have selected, all drawn from Seneca’s works, help illustrate how to put Seneca’s recommendations into practice. The Letters to Lucilius provide advice that goes beyond the generalities contained in Seneca’s essays. For instance, in his essay “On the Happy Life,” he talks about living honestly and cultivating virtue, but barely addresses the issue of motivation. Seneca’s essay “The Constancy of the Wise” emphasises the virtue of equanimity more than any other. It provides extensive examples of individuals able to stay calm in times of adversity, but tells us little about their motivation. I am all for staying calm, living honestly, cultivating virtue, and practising all the other tenets of Stoicism, but I would have preferred to see Seneca address the issue of motivation. Why did he expect his readers to carry out his recommendations day after day? From where are they supposed to draw their long-term motivation? Seneca rarely mentions happiness as the driving element in human motivation. He could have done so by quoting Aristotle (384-322 BC), the “Eudemian Ethics” and the “Nicomachean Ethics,” but he chose to remain vague on this subject. In the 1st Letter to Lucilius, Seneca acknowledges indirectly that motivation is linked to time, that is, a person’s motivation becomes visible in the way he uses his time. The Letter warns us against wasting time on activities that are either worthless, unpromising or detrimental. Seneca regards the acquisition of knowledge, especially of philosophical knowledge, as a common characteristic of sound motivation, but is this really true? In his 6th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca affirms that he loves to learn because he wants to teach, but what happens to people who have no interest in teaching? The 6th Letter praises the motivation of Cleanthes (330-230 BC) for recording and conveying the insights gained by Zeno of Citium (334-262 BC), but what if Cleanthes had opted for developing his own philosophy? Is an individualist motivation less worthy than the devotion to someone else’s ideas? Neither does Seneca attain clarity in identifying the source of human motivation. In the 8th Letter to Lucilius, he calls for periods of seclusion and meditation, so that we can learn to tell important goals apart from trivialities, but fails to deliver solid criteria to separate the former from the latter. In the 16th Letter to Lucilius, Seneca gives his most detailed recommendation on motivation: he commends readers to seek spiritual wealth by living according to nature, and condemns those who are primarily motivated by becoming popular. I am afraid that Seneca’s views on motivation suffer from a great deal of personal bias. He was able to understand why he, and people like him, did what they did, but failed to deliver a general motivation theory. For instance, the 28th Letter to Lucilius criticises people that leave their home and engage in long-term foreign travel for no good reason. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/senecas-letters-on-motivation/

It is easy to keep a clear mind during a sunny day, when all elements are in our favour: good health, a regular income, old friends that appreciate us, and a loving family around us. It is a different story to keep our wits when things fall apart and keep getting worse. Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) devised the perfect recipe for staying calm and focused in times of trouble. I am convinced that his recipe works because, in history, many people had practised it successfully. I regard this aspect of Seneca’s philosophy as one of the most valuable. For Seneca, the purpose of philosophy is the acquisition and practice of virtue. What did he mean exactly? In the 34th Letter to Lucilius, he defined a virtuous person as “someone who will refuse to commit evil acts under any circumstances.” Moral clarity depends on virtue, not on the memorisation of sayings from philosophers. A conscientious student can learn a large number of texts by heart, but his rote learning will not do him any good in a crisis. Seneca knew that adversity will make a person’s true moral stature visible, for better or for worse. It brings forth the best in virtuous people, and the worst in evil ones. When we are under pressure, we must make quick decisions relying on our beliefs. Seneca was referring to our deep-rooted views of what’s good and what’s evil, of the need to respect other people’s rights, and our levels of self-confidence, self-reliance, and self-development. If our beliefs are consistent and virtuous, we will make the right decisions automatically, just as Seneca had predicted. On the contrary, if our beliefs are inconsistent or unethical, we will panic in times of adversity and commit one error after another. How do we keep a clear mind in a crisis? Seneca argues that we must take action before the risks materialise. Virtuous must be acquired early in life and practised assiduously, so that they become automatic. A crisis doesn’t change individuals fundamentally, explained Seneca. It just prompts them to display their ethical values and practical skills as they are, without delays or embellishments. The 87th and 94th Letters to Lucilius enumerate some of the vices and virtues that can save or break a person during a crisis. Seneca condemns sternly the habit of making excessive expenditures or going into debt beyond what we are able to repay. Seneca considers it harmful to embrace a lifestyle that leads us to borrow sizeable amounts of money just to stay afloat. His praise goes for Cato (234-149 BC) and his frugality, recalling Cato’s habit to travel on horse, instead of a carriage, and carry his own possessions on two bags with him on the horse. I must, however, clarify that Seneca was not encouraging us to refrain from making necessary expenditures. His concept of frugality is different from blind penny-pinching. The fact that Cato had adopted a fairly modest lifestyle did not prevent him from speaking in favour of a new sewerage in Rome. When he was elected censor in 184 BC, he carried out the project with great determination despite the high cost. Seneca regards mental clarity as a consequence of ethically correct behaviour, not as a cause in itself. In order to preserve our mental sharpness in a crisis, we should keep practising the Stoic virtues day after day, in particular prudence, risk aversion and simplicity. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/senecas-approach-to-mental-clarity/

If fourteen-year old students received a solid introduction to Aristotle’s logic, it would change their lives; it could help them stay away from trouble, prevent bad decisions and acquire self-confidence. Aristotle (384-322 BC) did not teach ready-made solutions, but methods for solving problems. The purpose of logic is to see beyond the obvious, assess the facts, and draw conclusions that are in line with all available evidence. Aristotle’s teachings on logic and reasoning are presented in his book “Categories” and the twin treatises “Prior Analytics” and “Posterior Analytics.” They outline a method that is easy to grasp, but hard to apply consistently in every area of life. “Categories” is just an introductory work to logic. Its goal is to define terminology to describe the characteristics of objects, plants, animals, and human beings. For instance, Aristotle talks about categories relating to space, time, cause and effect, etc. “Prior Analytics” and “Posterior Analytics” are devoted to a single subject, namely, how to draw correct conclusions from statements and facts. Aristotle uses examples consisting of two statements or facts; he calls those statements “premises” and explains how to use them to draw an accurate conclusion. In Aristotelian terminology, a syllogism typically consists of two premises that lead to a conclusion by means of deductive reasoning. From the premises A and B, we draw an inescapable conclusion that is verifiable and true. In the example “all sentences contain words” and “a story is made of sentences,” we can draw the conclusion that “a story is made of words.” The premises share the term “sentences.” The conclusion connects the “story” and the “words” through the middle term “sentences.” Does Aristotelian logic sound simple? Indeed, it seems easy but we make mistakes all the time. Very often, people will not see the facts that are right before their eyes; their blindness can be self-inflicted or caused by ignorance, tiredness, or fear. Apathy is another reason why we fail to employ Aristotelian logic. People will clearly perceive the premises or facts but fail to draw any conclusions; they will overlook the obvious due to laziness, apathy, or discouragement. “Posterior Analytics” is devoted to inductive reasoning. It is the method for drawing general principles from specific facts, statements, or experiments. The key to accurate inductive logic is to check that the premises and conclusion are connected by a solid, verifiable link, not by chance or coincidence. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/aristotles-teachings-on-logic-and-reasoning/

The great Aristotle (384-322 BC) presented his thoughts on human nature in his three books “Eudemian Ethics,” “Nicomachean Ethics,” and “Politics.” He wrote or dictated them in the last period of his life after he had started his own school (“the Lyceum”) in Athens. What is Aristotle’s key idea on human nature? He defined humans as “rational animals.” Compared to all other creatures, humans are the only ones that possess the ability to reason and choose their behaviour on ethical grounds. Modern science has proven that some animal species have a limited capacity to think. I’m talking about dolphins, elephants, chimpanzees, ravens, cats, and dogs, for example; they possess the ability to draw simple conclusions but I wouldn’t categorise them as “rational animals” in the Aristotelian sense. As a result of their rationality, humans are uniquely able to give direction to their lives. They can set long-range objectives and pursue them steadily. They can allocate their energies and other resources to achieve their goals as quickly as possible. For humans, argued Aristotle, the overriding goal is to attain happiness. In all his books, Aristotle employed the Greek term “eudaimonia.” It translates not only as “happiness,” but also as “well-being,” “flourishing” or “thriving.” These translations show that Aristotle’s idea of happiness is dynamic. It is not a spiritual status of lethargic contentment but the result of determined action by the concerned person. It is something that you achieve or earn, not an undeserved present. In Aristotelian philosophy, it is up to each person to actively seek his own happiness. The philosopher’s task is to delineate the path and set up guideposts. The sole purpose of ethics is to teach individuals to attain happiness, understood as a radically personal experience. How do you attain happiness according to Aristotle? It is all about acquiring good habits (virtues) and practising them daily. The Aristotelian virtues (self-discipline, benevolence, courage and persistence, amongst others) are tools for achieving a goal. Compared to animals, human nature is highly complex. For the sake of analysis, Aristotle split the human mind (soul) into three areas. He called them rationality, emotions and vegetative in the same way as prior and later philosophers have done. Even Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) employed this tripartite division when he spoke of the conscious, subconscious and the societal constraints, although his explanations differ from those given by Aristotle. The Aristotelian division of the soul in three elements helps us grasp human nature better. When we refer to a certain aspect in someone’s personality, we can connect it to reason, emotions (desires, appetites, tastes) or vegetative drive (survival, growth, nutrition, reproduction). Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/aristotles-thoughts-on-human-nature/

Aristotle (384-322 BC) made a large understatement in his work “Politics” by writing that “education is the best provision for old age.” He should have written that “education is the best investment one can make.” The problem is that most education lacks quality, but should we not say the same about most newspapers, clothing, movies, television shows, books, songs, food, and many other items? If you apply the Aristotelian theory of virtue and character development, you should do well, but can you ensure a consistent application? How do you turn Aristotelian virtues (temperance, courage, justice) into second nature, so that you make the right choices every time? At present, there is no educational model fully based on the teachings of Aristotle; once and again, educators have come up with proposals to improve the current system, but their insights failed to meet their promises. Despite vast investments in new educational methods, I find it hard to believe that classrooms are delivering better results today than fifty years ago. What are the underlying reasons for this decline? The poor understanding of the Aristotelian theory of virtue and character development, and the failed attempts to replace it with random nonsense. Aristotelian ethics is based on the principle that humans can think. Of course, when I say “think,” I mean “think logically.” I don't mean “experience emotions” such as fear, anxiety, stress and confusion. I also don't mean “making arbitrary decisions.” The whole Aristotelian philosophy is based on logic. It is all about assessing facts, looking for connections, and figuring out the objective truth. Real life imposes heavy penalties on people who choose to ignore the truth. No amount of crying and wailing will be able to hide the dire consequences of mistakes. That's why Aristotle placed so much emphasis on virtues (good habits). If you practise virtue (courage, temperance, justice), you'll make good decisions in most cases. Occasionally, you'll make some mistakes, but those should be relatively minor. The acquisition of a good character (a virtuous character) is the key purpose of education. Aristotle wrote in book six of his “Nicomachean Ethics” that “the primary goal of wisdom is to differentiate good from evil.” In the Aristotelian tradition, character development includes knowledge accumulation (history, literature) and logic training (mathematical, causal, ethical), so that students learn to assess facts and draw correct conclusions. Unfortunately, today's education conveys neither sufficient facts nor a strong logic. Students are asked to memorise details without understanding them. They are required to regurgitate answers without grasping their justification. It's no wonder that such a process will generate graduates that are unable to think. The problems are well known already for some time. Let us now take a look at two modern attempts to correct them. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/education-and-aristotles-theory-of-virtue-and-character-development/

In his work “Rhetoric,” Aristotle (384-322 BC) identified a triad of pillars for persuasion and effective speaking. His three pillars (ethos, pathos and logos) refer to the three key elements in communication, namely, the speaker’s fame and credibility, the strength of his arguments, and their emotional impact. Hundreds of books have been written on the subject of how to communicate effectively, but most of them rehash Aristotle’s teachings on rhetoric without adding value. Although it only takes a few hours to familiarise oneself with Aristotelian rhetoric, it is tricky to put it into practice. It is a fact that most people aren’t effective public speakers and that, by attending a communication course, they will barely improve their skills. Why are rhetoric and persuasion so difficult? Plato (429-347 BC) pointed out one of the main reasons that render rhetoric and persuasion so difficult, namely, that people do not want to be perceived as manipulative. They do not want to be seen as pushy marketeers that will tell lies for personal gain. In his dialogue titled “Gorgias,” Plato presents a discussion between Socrates, the rhetoric teacher Gorgias, and his student Polus. In fact, Plato is himself speaking through Socrates. Socrates remarks that rhetoric is often misused and attacks Gorgias (a teacher of rhetoric) for his willingness to teach how to manipulate other people for personal gain. He accuses Gorgias of ignoring truth and virtue, and giving more importance to style than to substance. Socrates considers evil to employ persuasion for personal gain (financial, political or in court cases) and obliterate genuine knowledge. Socrates believed that rhetoric should be used only to foster justice and virtue. Thus, he admonished Gorgias for his moral indifference. Socrates found it appalling that Gorgias, as long as he got paid, was willing to accept anyone as student. When people state that they feel uncomfortable speaking in public, they may be experiencing the same ethical reservations that Plato had presented in his dialogue. What Plato and Socrates had called manipulation, modern psychologists may call aggressive salesmanship. The point is that some people regard all persuasion techniques as evil, and refuse to use them. No wonder that learning about Aristotelian rhetoric does not do them any good. Plato and Socrates were wrong because they hadn’t grasped the concept of individual freedom. Their demand that Gorgias should teach persuasion only for virtuous purposes was absurd. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/putting-aristotles-theory-of-rhetoric-and-persuasion-into-practice/

Despite its innovative, accurate character, philosophers first rejected the philosophy developed by Aristotle (384-322 BC) on knowledge and learning. His empiricism fell into disregard, and his detailed causal analysis (material cause, formal cause, efficient cause, and final cause) was seldom taught to students. For instance, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) was a fierce contender of Aristotle’s philosophy, and exerted great influence in medieval Europe. Bernard of Clairvaux was born in Burgundy, France, into a noble family. His father, Tescelin le Saur, and his mother, Aleth de Montbard, possessed large parcels of land. Their wealth and social position enabled them to give Bernard the best education available. By the time he became a teenager, Bernard was well-versed in arithmetic, Latin, rhetoric, philosophy and the Bible. He was an avid student and devoted countless hours to re-reading and memorising key ideas. Despite his established social position, Bernard decided to renounce his wealth upon turning twenty-three and join the Church. Together with a small group of friends, he travelled to the monastery of Citeaux, and requested to become a monk. Shortly after, Bernard was sent to set up a new monastery at Clairvaux, where he was elected abbot. Under his leadership, the Clairvaux monastery grew rapidly and led to establishing additional monasteries across Europe. Bernard was very familiar with Aristotelian philosophy, but regarded it as irrelevant. His focus was on adopting a Christian monastic lifestyle, which he defined as an austere life devoted to prayer, manual labour, and contemplation. Bernard wrote extensively on love, contemplation, modesty and austerity. His most famous works are “The Sermons on the Song of Songs,” “Humility and Pride,” and “On loving God.” In contrast to Aristotle’s empiricism and logic, Bernard only cared for mystical inspiration. He regarded Biblical texts as the only source of true knowledge. For all practical purposes, he obliterated and extinguished Aristotelian philosophy. When Bernard passed away in 1153, he was so famous and influential that a campaign was immediately set in motion to elevate him to sainthood. The process took two decades, and he was canonised as a saint in 1174 by Pope Alexander III. Bernard wasn’t alone in the efforts to wipe out all memories of Aristotelian philosophy. To a great extent, he had based his mysticism on the works of Augustine (454-430 AD). In contrast to Aristotle’s focus on facts and logic, Augustine had argued that the Christian faith provides the foundation for reason. He believed that true knowledge comes from God (that is, from the Bible), and shows us the path to follow. When it comes to learning, Augustine did not advocate facts gathering or logical analysis. He believed that true knowledge should come from a deep, personal relationship with God, who is the only source of wisdom and enlightenment. Knowledge, he said, is to be acquired spiritually, not intellectually. The vast dissemination of works by Augustine and Bernard of Clairvaux led to removing Aristotelian philosophy from the educational curriculum. Fortunately but unexpectedly, the tide turned a century after Bernard’s death. Thomas Aquinas (1125-1274) devoted large efforts to popularising Aristotelian logic and making it roughly compatible with Christianity. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/impact-of-aristotles-views-on-knowledge-and-learning/

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) was more a gatherer than a creator of philosophical ideas. He devoted twenty years of his life to writing essays on history, literature and morality, but all his conclusions are based on prior philosophers. Montaigne’s contribution is the personal touch that he gave to his compilations of knowledge. He mixed up observations on ancient literature with comments about his own children, his farm, and his personal troubles. When we read his personal comments nowadays, we get an accurate idea of the lifestyle in the French Renaissance. We get to know about their working habits, the harvest, sickness and medicine, nutritional habits and religious perspectives. Montaigne’s own life is also fascinating. He started like any other heir of a French wealthy family by learning Latin at an early age. At that time, a knowledge of Latin opened the door to higher education and high employment in the government. It was a prerequisite of a successful career. The whole point of learning Latin was to be able to read books, either contemporary or ancient. I meant the books from Ancient Rome and Ancient Greece. The knowledge of Greek was less important because all major ancient Greek books have been already translated into Latin. For instance, Montaigne was very familiar with the works of Aristotle, but he had read them in Latin, not in Greek. As far as we know, Montaigne had only learned some rudiments of Ancient Greek and was unable to read books in that language. Montaigne was not unique in his breath of knowledge. In the Renaissance, thousands of people in Europe had read as much as he had, especially in France, Italy, Spain and England. His uniqueness comes from his writing, not from his level of knowledge as such. He made an effort that nobody else had even thought of doing, the effort of taking notes and compiling them into brief essays, addressing philosophical themes. Montaigne also did something that nobody else had done until that time, namely, he revised and expanded his own work. He published his first essays in 1580, when he was forty-seven years old, and kept revising and expanding them. By the time he republished them in 1592, many essays had doubled in size. Despite their wide range of subjects, Montaigne’s essays revolve around just three ideas. First, Scepticism about any kind of absolute ideals, especially in politics and religion. Second, a mild form of Stoicism for coping with setbacks and failure in life. Third, the determination to enjoy each day to the maximum. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/michel-de-montaignes-thoughts/

The uniqueness of the ethical system put forward by Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) becomes clear when we compare it with other philosophies. I regard it as particularly enlightening to compare Schopenhauer’s ethics with Taoism and Stoicism. Taoism was created in ancient China. It predicates harmony with nature, spontaneity, modesty, simplicity and steering away from violence. Lao-Tzu (6th century BC) preceded Plato by a century. After his death, his disciples put his teachings in writing. For Taoists, the higher values are inner balance and tranquillity. They view those as more important than justice and self-fulfilment. A commonality between Taoism and Schopenhauer’s ethics is that both of them regard compassion as a cardinal virtue. For Taoists, compassion rests on the belief that all living creatures are interconnected, and that it’s good to help alleviate suffering in others. Nonetheless, Schopenhauer’s ethics call for self-awareness, foresight, and taking initiative against impending danger. This is not the case of Taoism. Its emphasis on aligning oneself with the world and living in harmony with events is not compatible with determined action. Taoists call for Wu Wei, that is, “non-action” or “effortless action” as their main tool for achieving balance and tranquillity but such a tool is doomed to failure. Schopenhauer understood this problem perfectly well. If you want to do the right thing, it is not sufficient to go with the flow. If you devote yourself to Wu Wei, you might find harmony, naturalness and spontaneity, but you will also find catastrophes and suffering. Passivity and effortless action are insufficient to solve severe problems. Wu Wei can easily turn your life into hell. Schopenhauer rejected passivity in his book “The world as will and representation” (1818). It is naive to expect Wu Wei to lead to effectiveness and happiness. If you follow “the natural flow of life,” chances are that the will (“life force”) drives you to harmful action because of its extreme short-term orientation. In daily life, Schopenhauer adopted many habits that match the Taoist paradigm; especially after settling down in Frankfurt in 1830, he led a lifestyle of frugality, moderation, simplicity, and self-reliance. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/analysis-of-schopenhauers-views-on-ethics/

Few philosophers agree with the positive views on solitude put forward by Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860). I am going to make comparisons, identify the differences, and look for the truth. Aristotle (384-322 BC) acknowledged the value of solitude for learning and self-awareness, but considered it impossible for humans to reach their full potential without social connections. By “social connections,” Aristotle did not mean only family and friends; his definition of “social connections” encompasses the “polis,” that is, a Greek city with a population around three hundred thousand people in the case of Athens. In his Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle defines “eudaimonia” (translated as “happiness”) as the outcome of flourishing. It’s a dynamic state of mind arising from activities: work, art, sports, learning, etc. A large part of those activities require social interaction. It’s possible to achieve happiness in solitude, but not to the highest level. For instance, the pleasure of conversation with friends or from competing in sports cannot be easily replaced. Like Schopenhauer, Aristotle held solitude in high regard in order to enhance self-reliance and self-confidence. It supplies a quiet environment for examining one’s actions, identifying one’s goals, and making plans for the future. In the Middle Ages, the balance tipped in favour of solitude, which many regarded as a virtue. For instance, St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226) often retired into the woods for periods of solitary reflection. Solitude, although intermittent, was an important part of St. Francis’ lifestyle, coupled to poverty, simplicity and spirituality in the Christian context. St. Francis regarded solitude as a method for achieving a deep understanding of God, nature and society. During his long retirements, he sought tranquillity and practised prayer. From time to time, he walked away from his community to spend a couple of weeks in a cave, forest, or little hermitage in the mountains. In contrast to Schopenhauer, St. Francis didn’t view solitude as a tool for self-development in the sense of skill learning. On the contrary, St. Francis resorted to solitude to learn humility. He wanted to detach himself from pride, ambition and material possessions. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/analysis-of-schopenhauers-views-on-solitude/

Like most great philosophers, Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) considered education as a lifetime activity. Schooling is only the first step, however necessary, and should build at the same time the student’s character, knowledge, and skills. Schopenhauer was very precise in defining the purpose of moral education; the principal purpose is to help students build their self-awareness and self-discipline. Self-awareness enables individuals to perceive the influence of the will (“life force”), identify the risks and assess the costs. Self-discipline allows them to implement the countermeasures to minimise the influence of the will and increase happiness. In his book “The world as will and representation,” (1818), Schopenhauer spoke in favour of developing self-awareness as a prerequisite for other virtues. In order to acquire the virtue of prudence, you must grow aware of the dangers of imprudence. According to Schopenhauer, education should teach people to make good decisions, that is, decisions that avert, minimise, or remedy suffering, or that help increase one’s happiness. In his book “Two fundamental problems in ethics” (1843), Schopenhauer stated that the purpose of ethics is to steer away from suffering, and cultivate tranquillity and inner peace. When it comes to education, the same goals should apply. It does not make sense, argued Schopenhauer, to give priority to rote learning and conformity. Memorisation cannot help you develop self-awareness and self-reliance. The ability to think critically is a prerequisite for averting the negative influence of the will; thus, it’s crucial that students learn to think independently. Schopenhauer did not prescribe a precise school curriculum, but gave guidelines about how to educate oneself. He regarded education as a lifetime process, not as a predetermined path. The more we learn, he remarked, the more we discover how much we still do not know. Self-awareness grows when students (or readers) open their field of vision as a result of their learning. People become self-aware when they start to look critically at themselves and their own actions. The wider your field of vision, the deeper your awareness. Solitude is another prerequisite for becoming self-aware. I am talking about the regular solitude periods (a few hours each day) that are necessary for reading complex texts and grasping their content. Schopenhauer considered the study of a limited number of well-selected books more beneficial than wide, indiscriminate reading of hundreds of volumes. The size of your library does not determine the size of your wisdom because reading becomes useful (“wisdom”) only after having integrated the ideas and data into coherent principles. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/schopenhauer-and-the-philosophy-of-education/

The possibility of drawing teachings from Eastern religion didn’t occur immediately to Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860). It does not appear in his early work “About the fourfold root of the principle of sufficient reason” (1808) and only starts to take shape in “The world as will and representation” (1818). Schopenhauer grew acquainted with Buddha’s teachings in the years after 1815. Initially, he read extensively about the life of Siddhartha Gautama, the creator of Buddhism. The insights gained by Siddhartha Gautama appear rather harsh for thinkers trained in Western philosophy. Buddhism in its original form entails a radical rejection of Western comforts and values. Schopenhauer was unwilling to endorse a radical rejection. I have no problem understanding his logic; he wanted Buddhism to enrich his life, not to render it miserable; he wanted to attain higher levels of happiness, not to give up happiness altogether. In the sixth century of our era, Bodhidharma (also called Da Mo) made the ideas of Siddhartha Gautama even more radical. When Bodhidharma said that “everybody knows the way, but few people actually walk it,” he was appealing to emotions and demanding visceral reactions. He wasn’t offering a smooth path from Western philosophy to a Buddhist lifestyle. Those radical teachings did not appear to Schopenhauer. He had realized that Buddhism had very much to offer in terms of stress reduction but was unwilling to abandon the comforts and sophistication of Western culture. Schopenhauer found after further research a milder form of Buddhism, a form that appears more practicable to the Western mind. The developer of this milder variant was Nagarjuna, a Buddhist thinker of the second century of our era. Nagarjuna presented himself as a follower of all Siddhartha Gautama’s precepts, but developed additional doctrines that are known as The Middle Way. Nagarjuna’s doctrines are outlined in poetic sentences compiled by his disciples. According to Nagarjuna, we can overcome all suffering and achieve enlightenment if we understand the nature of reality and act accordingly. The process of understanding, he said, can require extensive meditation, accompanied by study. Schopenhauer did not care much for the stories of miracles attributed to Nagarjuna and other Buddhists thinkers. Miracles cannot be reproduced by the reader. Schopenhauer was mainly interested in techniques for stress reduction, increasing one’s effectiveness, and making better decisions. Nagarjuna had acknowledged the suffering inherent in each individual existence. He wrote that “birth is suffering, ageing is suffering, illness is suffering, a displeasing environment is suffering, loss of pleasure is suffering, frustration is suffering, and death is suffering and inescapable.” Those elements are dominated by the will (“life force”) that Schopenhauer had described in his book “The world as will and representation. Nagarjuna’s teachings are greatly appealing to people who want to keep suffering at bay without having to renounce the world. Here is the link to the original article: https://johnvespasian.com/schopenhauers-teachings-drawn-from-buddhism/