Classics and the Western Canon discussion

We now move from physics to, what should I call it, neurology? psychology? At any rate, to the science of mind and spirit.

I love these little introductions to each part. We've had the prayer to Venus to start part 1, the philosopher looking down on the throng from his citadel in part 2, and now to the effusive praise of Epicurus.

We then get down to the meat of the issue with, if I counted right, seven basic propositions seeking to "elucidate in my verses the nature of mind and of life." Starting with a sort of 1,500 year prior version of Hamlet's soliloquy on suicide,* and ending with an argument for the benefits of mortality.

On my first quick read, just to get enough understanding to open the week's reading, I was struck by the intermingling of the physical and mental aspects of the mind. Now I'm off to re-read in more depth and for, I hope, a deeper understanding of how view of the Epicurean philosophy, which I think really starts to come out in this section.


* Okay, I know that some Shakespeareans are adamant that that's not what it's actually about, but it's what I was taught in school and it's how I still read it, and let's not have a Shakespearean interpretative argument here, please.

Christopher wrote: "As if Books 1 and 2 weren't ambitious enough, Lucretius begins to connect the atoms of the universe with our soul or mind. I'm still debating the effectiveness of his arguments regarding the connec..."

Is it possible for anyone to summarize one's own life as just suffering or enjoyment (pain or pleasure)? Unless it's like some utilitarian calculation of the sum of all experience ending up on the positive or negative side, could we have a 'generalized' appreciation of our own lives to feel glad that it's over or feel thankful for what we have got in the end? This question has been a consistent bugger for me as it's a major dilemma to be considered in our lives.

Here in the hymn to Epicurus we see an affirmation of the mystical ecstasy open to the Epicurean. Nature opens to his gaze, and he enjoys the cosmic harmony before him. He bears witness to the bliss of divine life, and sees nothing of dark underworlds. He then contrasts this with the life of superstition and ignominy. His point seems to be that fear of death ruins people and destroys their character.

As for his critique of immaterialist philosophies of the soul, he adduces many interesting analogies and examples to make his point. Nevertheless, it only really works against particularly radical notions according to which a soul is the complete personality that has only happened to surround itself with matter--a conception that I believe would be more ancient/Homeric than contemporary/Hellenistic. His illustrations could be just as easily used to demonstrate that the soul is the form of the body or that it necessarily operates through the body. His whole understanding of the soul flows from his reductive materialism, and if his contemporary reader didn't accept this as a premise, I suspect that reader would find all this talk of spirit juices rather ludicrous.

When he says, speaking of how the mind "wrenches" the body about, "all these operations imply touch" (around 1:165), I cannot help but imagine a comic little homunculus controlling the levers inside one's head. I also imagine Lucretius trying to explain to a Tuscan plumber that his soul "is composed of very small seeds.... If you grasp this fact, my good friend, you will find that it will stand you in good stead in many connections" (1:205).

Anyway, he is at the top of his form rhetorically. He at once accepts and subverts the Orphic equation of soma and sema; the body is a prison, in a sense, but it's all that's keeping you together. You only exist while the prison gate is firmly locked, holding in all your mind-particles.

There seems to me to be Stoic influence somewhere in his description of the particles that make up the mind. The Stoic understanding of the four elements was that two were active and two passive. The two active, fire and air, comprise the principles of hot and cold, and together in dynamic relationship they are pneuma (spirit), which holds all things together. Water and earth are wet and dry principles respectively. I'm not sure where to go with this, but I was reminded of it while reading Lucretius. His belief that one's personality is determined by the kind of particles that make one up seems to share an affinity.

I bumped into Lucretius today while reading Charles Taylor's Sources of the Self: The Making of Modern Identity, and found that discussion interesting. Here seems as appropriate a place as any to post quotes, and I will do so presently.

Okay, so here beginning on page 345, Taylor is talking about the philosopher Hume. Sources of the Self is basically a genealogy of modern moral sources (and our cultural confusion thereabout), and here Taylor explains that Hume, unlike Locke and most Enlightenment philosophers, seemed to believe that the goal of rational self-exploration is not "disengaged control" but "self-acceptance." This, he thinks, is an idea that has only burgeoned in the twentieth century. Here's the part where Lucretius comes in:

Hume's sources were classical, and mainly Epicurus and Lucretius. For all the invocation of these two by Enlightenment utilitarians, they were in some ways far from their spirit. It is possible to interpret the Enlightenment mainly as "the rise of modern paganism", accentuating its ancient and particularly Epicurean sources. And there is a lot of truth in this.... But there was also much which came specifically from Christian sources, or was specifically modern.... In utilitarianism above all the emphasis on active benevolence, on making the world a happy place, had no ancient parallels, and certainly wasn't Epicurean.

But what was profoundly Epicurean-Lucretian was the notion that the metaphysical views which tie us to a larger moral order destroy our peace of mind, our psychic equilibrium, in the name of an illusion--that they impose extraneous demands which can only distract us from the true road to happiness and tranquility. The belief that the gods concern themselves with us can only inspire fear. We have to turn away from this preoccupation with moral order and take ourselves as we are, find our pleasures as we can, in the right order which fits with our nature.

In other words, we reject the "gods" not in order to be disengaged self-remolders but to be able to take our lives as they are, without fear..... It recognizes the crushing burdens laid on humans by their great spiritual aspirations.... In refusing these demands, the neo-Lucretian stance resembles closely the radical Enlightenment in its rebuttal of the calumnies against nature of religion and traditional ethics. And indeed, the two are allied against these common enemies. But there is a subtle difference. Where a writer like Holbach or Condorcet wants to proclaim the innocence of nature and ultimately the benevolence of humans properly educated, thus opening for us the exciting prospect of a restored humanity, the neo-Lucretian spirit is content to remove the burden of impossible aspirations. The liberation is not to a marvellous remaking but more like a home-coming to a garden, a grateful acceptance of a limited space, with its own irregularities and imperfections, but within which something can flower. The moral inspiration comes not from the prospect of transformation but from the hard-won ability to cherish this circumscribed space....

Taylor is of course talking primarily about how Lucretius was received 1700 years later, and in the context of ethics, but I wonder whether we can see any of this yet in Lucretius himself.

I'm also still reading this part, but already it's coming easier to me than the previous two...perhaps because the concepts of life and the soul are based on one's beliefs and not all on tangible evidence.

He says early on that the mind/reason (word choice per Bailey translation) resides in the chest, and the rest of the soul, though in union with the mind, is "spread abroad throughout the body." (p. 62) Of course, this sounds more like the heart, but did he really mean mind/reason as "brainwork"? I'd be curious to know what wording other translators use (or is it the same in all?).

Christopher wrote: It's arguably one of the biggest parts of being human, and Lucretius spends a good portion of Book 3 going into the concept of death and the fear of death, only to brush the problem aside. I definitely need to take another look at Book 3 because some of his arguments felt quite unconvincing to me.

I felt like his reference to death was more part of his argument for the physicality of mind and soul, rather than an in-depth examination of death. He realizes that the loss of a limb may not end our lives, but there are vital parts of our bodies that, when hurt, do cause death - he's using that to back his concept of mind/soul being held within a body. Then he observes that a dying person exhales at the last moment, on which he builds his four-part composition of life.

Now that theory actually made a lot of sense to me, though I'd probably group wind, air, and heat as being the same thing. The last component, of course, is atom of the soul (he's certainly consistent!). I did love where he finds correlation between heat/wind/air and emotions (as illustrated by lions, deer, and oxen). Here, even though he's not totally right on that concept, he really built a good argument based on what he observed.

Rex wrote: "When he says, speaking of how the mind "wrenches" the body about, "all these operations imply touch" (around 1:165), I cannot help but imagine a comic little homunculus controlling the levers inside one's head. I also imagine Lucretius trying to explain to a Tuscan plumber that his soul "is composed of very small seeds....."

The mind must be Swerve Central -- the main engine of free will, where all the mind particles swirl about and make things happen. His mechanics are not too far off, if we give him electrons as particles (as Patrice suggests above) but how the mind actually makes decisions is not yet explained. Do the mind particles form a committee?

He does make some interesting points concerning the mind/body connection. I thought his obsevations about the effects of sickness on mind and body were especially acute. However, I got the feeling that he was using mind and soul a bit interchangeably? That he is attempting to tie the two together so that they are essentially one?

I also thought, even if the soul/mind/body are connected physically, it does not necessarily follow that there is not a part of the soul that does not disembody after death and float around, or "go to heaven", or whatever? But Similar to what Marian said, it is difficult to "prove" either way that this does or does not happen....

Marian wrote: "He says early on that the mind/reason (word choice per Bailey translation) resides in the chest, and the rest of the soul, though in union with the mind, is "spread abroad throughout the body." (p. 62) Of course, this sounds more like the heart, but did he really mean mind/reason as "brainwork"? I'd be curious to know what wording other translators use (or is it the same in all?)."

It's interesting to see how Lucretius deals with the mind-body problem, though maybe for him it isn't a problem at all. It's all one thing. He does make a clear distinction between mind and soul, however. There's an interesting glossary entry on some of these terms in my translation that could be worth a gander:

mind (mens, animus, Gr. nous) , soul (anima, Gr. psyche), rational faculty (consilium, Gr. to logikon): These terms, especially mens, animus, and anima, occur frequently in Book 3 when Lucretius discusses the Epicurean view of the soul. Animus and anima are the Latin words Lucretius uses for "mind" and "soul" respectively. The Latin words are closely related, anima deriving from a root meaning "breath, wind, soul, physical life" and animus derived from the same root but taken more metaphorically "mind, rational soul, courage, will." The closeness of the Latin terms anima and animus serve Lucretius' argument about the soul and mind well, because as he argues in Book 3, the soul and mind are both made of extremely fine and mobile atoms that are intimately connected. The animus (mind) is located in the chest and is the center of thinking, memory and the emotions. The anima (soul) extends out from the mind throughout the body, playing a role similar to the nervous system. Thus when Lucretius argues that the mind and soul are intimately connected (3.136-144), the nearly identical looking and sounding terms he uses (animus and anima) help make the point. Mens (mind) is a term that Lucretius uses as a synonym for animus, and consilium (rational principle) is a term he uses in a few places as a synonym and explanatory term for animus and anima. (Walter Englert)

Christopher wrote: " I felt his way of dealing with this fear was a bit less convincing: if you suffered in life you should welcome the freedom of death ..."

But this was very much the philosophy of much of Christian thinking, especially during the harsh years of the Middle Ages. And many spirituals are based on this same premise -- we suffer here but we'll be rewarded in the life to come. There have been a number of Christian thinkers who have claimed that Christians should not fear but welcome death, and that funerals should be not sad but joyous occasions. Lucretius of course wasn't a Christian, but his suggestion isn't at all unreasonable.

Patrice wrote: "Then I loved the way he reasons that the atoms of the soul must be smaller, smoother, faster than others. He's right again.electicity is what the brain uses and a flow of electrons is smaller and faster. ."

I made the same marginal note in my book -- that the fourth element he posits for the mind is very close to the electrical impulses that we know activate the brain. Once again, it seems, as I forget who said in another post, Lucretius gets it very close to right for the somewhat wrong reasons. But his images of the movement of poppy seeds vs. stones or water vs. honey are compelling images.

Thomas wrote: "Marian wrote: "He says early on that the mind/reason (word choice per Bailey translation) resides in the chest, and the rest of the soul, though in union with the mind, is "spread abroad throughout..."

Thank you for the explanation. I've been a bit confused as well. I also believe his notion of mind and soul are distinctive, but that both mind and soul, as well as anything else in the physical world, is believed to be made of atoms and are therefore mortal regardless of its position or function.

Patrice wrote: "But the man whose mind remains and is able to think is still.

Sounds like Descartes, I think therefore I am.

Has anyone seen the butterfly and the diving bell? its a film about a man who has had ..."

Yes, even if we didn't see the film or the book, we have observed conditions of human lives where the mind/soul is 'locked in' the immobile body. On the other hand, there is also the situation concerning brain death, where the situation is reversed. Of course it's not dealt in this book, but the connectivity of mind and body and its significance in existence of oneself is a major dilemma in such medical conditions.

Light in the eye is like the life that can remain if the mind and spirit have not been destroyed.
-> Speaking of disabilities, I've reading some essays by Helen Keller these days, and many of her knowledge depends not on the direct sensations she receives from her bodily organs, but imaginations derived from second-hand descriptions of the world. Although she can't actually 'see' the beauty of the world, she 'feels' them and has 'dreams' that are just as lively and real. She also remarks that she doesn't believe the senses are as accurate or essential as people tend to believe in perceiving the world around them. I wonder what someone like Helen Keller would have said about Lucretius and Epicurus?

Thomas wrote: "The animus (mind) is located in the chest and is the center of thinking, memory and the emotions. The anima (soul) extends out from the mind throughout the body, playing a role similar to the nervous system. Thus when Lucretius argues that the mind and soul are intimately connected (3.136-144), the nearly identical looking and sounding terms he uses (animus and anima) help make the point. "

Thanks for sharing that! So he really did think that thoughts proceeded from the chest/heart area...interesting. I like the reference to the nervous system; Lucretius seems to describe it, in places, without using the phrase verbatim.

Am I wrong in thinking that he sees the "mind" as the collection of atoms that are responsible for the movement of the body and the "spirit" as the collection that is responsible for receiving input via the senses.

Genni wrote: "However, I got the feeling that he was using mind and soul a bit interchangeably?"

My translations use mind and spirit (both Latham and Melville) rather than mind and soul.

I'm wondering whether we're running into a translation issue where English just doesn't have the same nuances as the Latin terms. I wish we had a Latin scholar here to give us more insight into how the Romans (and before them the Greeks) understood these terms.

John wrote: "Am I wrong in thinking that he sees the "mind" as the collection of atoms that are responsible for the movement of the body and the "spirit" as the collection that is responsible for receiving inpu..."

I think that's right. He talks about not being able to feel chalk or the filaments of a spider's web on the skin because "so many particles must be stirred up in us before the soul seeds which are mixed within our bodies throughout the limbs begin to feel that the first beginnings have been struck..." (3.391)

The mind seeds are of a different sort. They seem to be isolated in one spot rather dispersed throughout the body, because a person can lose a part of the body -- a finger, for instance, which is alive and therefore ensouled -- and the mind still remains intact. But if the mind is lost, as when a person slips into a coma, the soul is endangered throughout the whole body.

Since Lucretius believes that all things are composed of atoms, including consciousness he posits that there exist atoms for anger, fright, etc.. However he also says that there are few atoms against which a man's reason cannot prevail.

Is he saying that someone who is quickly angered does so because they contain many "anger" atoms but through reason a man can overcome them?

"So it is with men: however education
may give them similar polish, yet each
retains traces of his first nature in his mind.
It is not to be thought that faults can be so eradicated
that one does not run too quickly into anger,
another not take fright readily, while a third
may take all things more easily than he should.
In many other things there are great differences
between men in their nature and behavior:
I cannot now explain the reasons for this,
nor find names for the shapes of all the elements
from which these many differences arise.
What, however, I think can be asserted
is that the traces of original nature
which reason cannot efface, are very few,
so that nothing can stop us living as the gods do."

As a followup, does Lucretius view the soul as composed of very small atoms of varying types such as "anger", "happy", "sad" as opposed to a single "soul" atom?

Patrice wrote: "John wrote: "Since Lucretius believes that all things are composed of atoms, including consciousness he posits that there exist atoms for anger, fright, etc.. However he also says that there are fe..."

The very small atoms of varying types forming emotions remind me of neurotransmitters such as dopamine and serotonin.

I think whether composed or influenced by atoms or neurotransmitters or hormones or any kind of molecules or by millions of years of evolution, psychology or human nature does not have to adhere to the 'traces of original nature' and I agree with Lucretius's view in that 'nothing can stop us living as the gods do'. This sounds a lot like what they are trying to emphasize in defense of sociobiology and evolutionary psychology. Sociobiology is NOT supposed to be biologic determinism and we should NOT slip from 'is' to 'ought' in describing any aspect of human nature.

Patrice wrote: "I kept thinking of how stoic he was too."

Interesting point, Patrice. I am sure there is some overlap between the two schools of Stoicism and Epicureanism but they were apparently rather bitter rivals. I would say the Stoics taught the "suck it up" attitude of endurance and Epicurus taught pleasure, or absence of pain was the highest good. Your post made me curious and found this comparison online: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1z...

I think this may be why some find his arguments unconvincing. Is it too rationalist to say: well, this is all the time you have, so what's the point of being upset about it? There is nothing to fear because it is what it is.

Some of his arguments are extremely clever even when they are based on factual errors, such as when he uses the belief in spontaneous generation of worms in the dead body to try to prove that thousands of spirits can't just be hanging out there waiting for the instant someone dies....

But what is unconvincing to me, for example, is his idea that people fear death because of incorrect ideas - this is where I see his extreme rationalism. Don't we fear death because it is a natural, animal instinct of self-preservation that we have evolved over millennia? You don't get rid of such a powerful instinct just by becoming enlightened. Even if, I must confess, Lucretius's rational stance is enormously appealing to me.

On the other hand, some arguments can be very convincing if you interpret them in a more - not sure what to call that - "spiritual"? way: the idea that "this is all the time you have" means that the present gets stretched out "as if" it were eternal. Our singular life is precious because it is all we have. This becomes more compelling, I think, given the way he ends this book, saying:

"Again, we live and move and have our being / In the same place always, and no new pleasure / By living longer can be hammered out" (Melville, 3.1079-81). And "Nor by prolonging life, one single second / Do we deduct from the long years of death" (3.1086-7).

David wrote: "Patrice wrote: "I kept thinking of how stoic he was too." ... found this comparison online ..."

Nice comparison, though we should keep in mind where it comes from: the New Epicureans. Would Seneca agree with this synopsis?

Stoicism: matter is a secondary aspect of the universe, truth can be known by those in possession of superior reason, reason shows us (always? everyone?) the right thing to do, don't set any purposes in life because fate rules everything, life has no intrinsic value except as a test of virtue, depending on the results of that test souls will be rewarded or punished (only males participate?), the gods guarantee ultimate justice, beauty has only a moral dimension.

One is tempted to compare the Stoic-Epicurean contrast with the Christian-Enlightenend opposition (Montaigne's development during the Wars of Religion is sometimes seen as a route from Christian-Stoic to Epicurean points of view).

Wendel wrote: "Nice comparison, though we should keep in mind where it comes from: the New Epicureans. Would Seneca agree with this synopsis?"

Very good point Wendel. Could the new Epicureans still be perpetuating those bitter old biases? Also, I have perceived that Stoicism has either evolved somewhat, or was interpreted differently from the time of Zeno, through Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius so that school may not fit so neatly in the categories of the comparison chart.

@Patrice and Wendel on Stoicism in De Rerum Natura
From my Ferguson Smith translation (italicized) and my own paraphrasing, the reasons not to fear death in Book III are listed as:

1. Death is nothing to us (830– 869)
The mind is imortal and thus we will not be aware of death or any pain of death when we are dead.
2. Fears for the fate of the body after death are irrational (870– 893)
You won't feel anything when you are dead.
3. The grief of mourners is unjustified (894– 911)
In death a person is at rest free from mortal pains and sufferings.
4. In death there is no longing for sensual pleasures or for anything else (912– 930)
You will be dead and will not suffer the wants of being alive.
5. Nature’s rebuke to those who complain about death (931– 977)
life is granted to no one for permanent ownership, to all on lease.
6. Hell and its torments exist only in our life (978– 1023)
Since death is nothing, Hell can only exist for the living.
7. Why should you be reluctant to die, when far greater people have died before you? (1024– 1052)
We are all mortal and thus everyone dies no matter their station in life.
8. Restlessness and discontent can be banished only by study of Epicurean philosophy (1053– 1075)
9. Why cling to life? Death is inevitable and will be eternal, no matter how long you live (1076– 1094)

I think #5, #7, and #9 sound like the "accept and endure" ideas that some Stoics may share. Although I am not sure about #9. A Stoic may count hanging on as a virtue if there is still some duty they can perform, however small.

I can’t help thinking that Lucretius really loves arguments for argument’s sake. And that I find tiresome. Why force so much in a philosophical straightjacket to argue that the soul is mortal? Why all this kicking and dodging where the burden of proof is so clearly on the other side?

However, in his time it was not - not yet - on the other side. Faced with an overwhelming unknown, man needed every help he could think of. Which came at a price. Roman gods didn’t give anything for free, the immortal soul was needed as a pledge. These were gods jealously guarding their prerogatives, demanding rituals as complicated as the small print on today’s insurance contracts.

We may think Lucretius makes too much of the terror of death, but when even today lives are occasionally wrecked by fear of divine retribution, this same fear may have been very common indeed in his time. If the elite adhered to the grim Stoic philosophy, what can have been regular Joe’s feelings?

Sure, Lucretius’ trust in enlightenment is naive. As if one can learn how to live from a book. Today the leftist trust in the power of reason, in human perfectibility, so charming and insufferable, feels dated. And yet, Lucretius’ descendants worry that they might not get the utmost out of their one life may be understood as progress.

Patrice wrote: "He ignores what, to me at least, is the biggest fear...the dying."

Yes, he is really talking about 'being dead'. I suppose that for a Roman fear of dying was a very unmanly thing, something not talked about. Moreover, it was only a temporary discomfort, while being dead is an eternal condition (like being unborn?).

I just happened to be reading Tom Holland's Rubicon: The Last Years of the Roman Republic and stumbled across his account of Julius Caesar's "last supper":

Confident that he was among friends, Caesar dropped his guard. "What is the sweetest kind of death?" he was asked. Back shot Caesar's response: "The kind that comes without warning." To be warned was to be fearful; to be fearful was to be emasculated.

(The question and Caesar's response are reported by Plutarch; the rest is Holland's embellishment, but it certainly fits the character of Roman virtue.)

Thomas wrote: "IConfident that he was among friends, Caesar dropped his guard. "What is the sweetest kind of death?" he was asked. Back shot Caesar's response: "The kind that comes without warning." To be warned was to be fearful; to be fearful was to be emasculated."

Doesn't that actually expose him as being fearful? I am not faulting him for it, but It seems like he would prefer to die in his sleep and may be fearful of going out in a conscious blaze of glory. Or compare it to the quote, unsourced but commonly attributed to Patton, "There's only one proper way for a professional soldier to die: the last bullet of the last battle of the last war."

David wrote: "Doesn't that actually expose him as being fearful?"

I can see that. It's a very subtle admission though. It's the fear itself that he's afraid of, because for him the fear of death is worse than actually dying, but it's hard to separate the two. I would imagine that he really was afraid of death, but wouldn't acknowledge it because it just wouldn't do for the newly crowned dictator to admit fear of something as plebeian as death. (Prophesies of the soothsayer notwithstanding.)

It is in any case a great contrast to Socrates's approach to death in the Phaedo. Which raises a question, for those who remember Phaedo, anyway: Is Lucretius's approach to death as satisfactory as Socrates's?

Thomas wrote: "David wrote: "Doesn't that actually expose him as being fearful?"

I can see that. It's a very subtle admission though. It's the fear itself that he's afraid of, because for him the fear of death i..."

Personally, I found Socrates' approach more consoling. I don't think it's because I think of myself as virtuous or wise. It just gave me a faint inkling of hope and some inspiration to become a better person, whereas Lucretius's approach to death just left me neutral.

Patrice wrote: "I actually see them as similar. Don't be afraid of death! There is nothing to fear. Total denial of human nature."

They are similar ultimately, but I think I prefer Socrates's method of putting his friends at ease. He gives them some hope, and at the same time an occupation: philosophy, which he says is a kind of preparation for death. By the end of the dialogue Socrates's friends are less afraid, and as Borum suggests, they have been inspired to improve and to live the philosophical life. I find Lucretius a little less inspirational. I can picture him telling his friends to just get over it, which is about as effective as telling someone who is having a panic attack to just relax.

Awww~ that story is very touching, actually. :-)
I wish my parents were a bit more considerate like that. As I said, I prefer Socrates's version because it is more consoling and inspirational, NOT necessarily because it's the more accurate version.

If I was a materialist, Lucretius would be my hero. The way I read him, he is basically saying, "How can you be afraid of death?Don't you understand that if you are dead, there won't be any "you" to worry about it? Suck it up."

Of course his materialist hypothesis is all bosh, and his definition of "soul" is not anything like what that term means in the majority of the Western canon; certainly not those works influenced by Christianity.

What would have been the Roman religious understanding of "soul" at this time period? Not something material, surely, since he argues so strongly for a materialist understanding of soul.

Kenneth wrote: "Of course his materialist hypothesis is all bosh, and his definition of "soul" is not anything like what that term means in the majority of the Western canon; certainly not those works influenced by Christianity."

Lucretius's definition is not religious, so I'm not sure if the comparison holds. He appears to be using a physical reference in some cases (anima) and a philosophical or psychological reference (animus) in others. The physical aspect refers to the principle of life, literally "breath." This is simply what makes a living thing alive. The philosophical aspect refers to the faculty of reason, the rational mind.

I'm not sure if Roman religion had any opinion on the soul in these respects. There was certainly a mythology of the afterlife, but I'm not sure if they identified the part of the person that survives death and goes to the underworld as the "soul" exactly.

Thomas wrote: ". . .for those who remember Phaedo, anyway: Is Lucretius's approach to death as satisfactory as Socrates's? "

I am reminded of the Bertrand Russell quote:

There is something feeble and a little contemptible about a man who cannot face the perils of life without the help of comfortable myths. Almost inevitably some part of him is aware that they are myths and that he believes them only because they are comforting. But he dare not face this thought! Moreover, since he is aware, however dimly, that his opinions are not rational, he becomes furious when they are disputed.

Socrates' version of the afterlife, or any afterlife for that matter, fits the into the comfortable myth category. This seems especially true when I or anyone else speculates or pretends to know the absurd details of what an afterlife may be like. Eternal harps and singing with endless wait times to meet the dead celebrities who are just dying to meet me as much as other dead celebrities is just a start. Accepting Lucretius' intent saves me the mental disturbance of realizing, however dimly, of my own feebleness and the contempt I would feel toward myself by otherwise perpetually fooling myself.

It appears at first to be a matter of comfort without freedom vs. freedom without comfort. However there is an overwhelming comfort in accepting without resignation the matter of fact material explanation of the way things are. That comfort combined with the freedom from superstition makes Lucretius' approach more satisfying.

David wrote: ".Almost inevitably some part of him is aware that they are myths and that he believes them only because they are comforting. But he dare not face this thought!"

This is interesting because I have seen many a spiritual person say the same thing about materialists. The saying would go something like this:

"Almost inevitably some part of him is aware that God exists and that he does not believe in him because he feels it would limit his freedom (or insert other various possible reasons). But he dare not face this thought!"

Some thoughts about Bertrand Russell's quote:
-I don't know that believing in God or an afterlife is necessarily always "comfortable".

-Socrates was never furious at being disputed. I only see him ever thoughtfully trying to give an explanation for his hope. Lucretius seems to me more polemic than Socrates.

Genni wrote: "This is interesting because I have seen many a spiritual person say the same thing about materialists. The saying would go something like this:"

I forgot to say no tag-backs! :) But you are right, it is a common response.

I do agree that an afterlife does not always prompt comfortable thoughts, which adds to Lucretius' point, regardless of whether one believes in it or not. For Socrates the afterlife was still located in "Hades", not a highly recommended vacation spot.

True, Socrates was pretty cool about it. In the Apology he at least admits to the possibility of both:

"Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason to hope that death is a good; for one of two things—either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another."

Also, please note he admits to the fact that the afterlife is "as men say". No tag backs! :)

David wrote: "Socrates' version of the afterlife, or any afterlife for that matter, fits the into the comfortable myth category. This seems especially true when I or anyone else speculates or pretends to know the absurd details of what an afterlife may be like"

Since the afterlife (or lack thereof) is not subject to observation, what one chooses to believe or not believe is entirely personal and not capable of proof or disproof. What I love about Phaedo is that Socrates shows this, but at the same time he turns the focus back to life rather than death. Reflection on death becomes a positive thing for the living, even if there is no afterlife.

What concerns Lucretius is that some people are afraid of the afterlife, and denying its existence frees people from that fear. This is liberating, but it doesn't necessarily help them live their lives any better. (Look ahead several centuries to existentialism, and this freedom might be even more frightening than superstition!)

Cicero, the voice of the Roman intellectuals, wrote about the belief in the immortality of the soul in On Old Age. His arguments here might remind some of us of Plato's Phaedo and Descartes' Meditations on Philosophy

Since such is the lightning-like rapidity of the soul, such its wonderful memory of things that are past, such its ability to forecast the future, such its mastery of many arts, sciences, and inventions, that its nature, which encompasses all these things, cannot be mortal; and since the soul is always active and has no source of motion because it is self-moving, its motion will have no end, because it will never leave itself; and since in its nature the soul is of one substance and has nothing whatever mingled with it unlike or dissimilar to itself, it cannot be divided, and if it cannot be divided it cannot perish.

And here is the punch-line:

And if I err in my belief that the souls of men are immortal, I gladly err, nor do I wish this error which gives me pleasure to be wrested from me while I live. But if when dead I am going to be without sensation (as some petty philosophers think), then I have no fear that these seers, when they are dead, will have the laugh on me!

The speaker says that belief in immortality gives him pleasure, so even from a pleasure-seeking perspective, immortality is worthy of belief. He is saying, "Call it a psychological crutch if you like, but as long as it gives me pleasure, I shall have it in this life. If there is no afterlife, I won't be any worse for it, but if there is, I shall have the last laugh."

Lucretius' materialism not only does not allay the fear of death, but also robs people of the pleasure in the hope of immortality. For what?

Nemo wrote: "Lucretius' materialism not only does not allay the fear of death, but also robs people of the pleasure in the hope of immortality. For what? "

To keep us honest.

“It seems to me a fundamental dishonesty and a fundamental treachery to intellectual integrity to hold a belief because you think it’s useful and not because you think it’s true.” ~ Bertrand Russell

David wrote: "Nemo wrote: "Lucretius' materialism not only does not allay the fear of death, but also robs people of the pleasure in the hope of immortality. For what? "

To keep us honest."

I was expecting that response. :)

Both Socrates and the speaker in Cicero's treatise showed intellectual honesty. They both acknowledged the possibility of being wrong, and the possibility of utter unconsciousness after death. On the other hand, they both presented logical arguments for their belief in the immortality of the soul, the rational basis of their belief.

By contrast, many materialists (I was one) do not acknowledge the possibility of being wrong, and assert that the other side are either ignorant or dishonest, and that logic is on their side, when the plain fact is that logical and rational arguments can be and have been made to support the other side equally well, if not better. That attitude is not honesty, IMO, that is pride arising from ignorance.

Thomas wrote: "What concerns Lucretius is that some people are afraid of the afterlife, and denying its existence frees people from that fear. This is liberating, but it doesn't necessarily help them live their lives any better."

I admit that the freedom like Lucretius champions is sadly uncomfortable for some, but consider that Lucretius also turns to life with an even greater emphasis than Socrates. The freedom from superstition both improves and enhances the rest of the Epicurean philosophy to focus on a life on earth lived in Epicurean virtue undisturbed and unhindered by fears of the afterlife like a god in a heaven on earth.

David wrote: "Genni wrote: "This is interesting because I have seen many a spiritual person say the same thing about materialists. The saying would go something like this:"

I forgot to say no t

No tag backs? No fair! :-)

I don't quite follow how a lack of comfortable thoughts, in either case, adds to Lucretius's point. If it is because of fear, then I think we have established that fear exists inside both materialists and their counterparts. I don't see how this adds to one point or another. To fear is to be human? :-)

Patrice wrote: "I love that genni. It's like one of those optical illusions do you see a witch or a pretty woman? They are both there."

I had forgotten about that illusion! Interesting.

ETA: now I am wondering...you know so much more about art than I do. Are they both actually there? Or is one only preceived to be there, but was no actually drawn by the artist?

David wrote: "but consider that Lucretius also turns to life with an even greater emphasis than Socrates."


How do we know that Lucretius does this? We know very little about his life. The one outside record we have, whether dubious or not, is that he committed suicide. We actually have no idea how his philosophy played out in real life?

David wrote: "The freedom from superstition both improves and enhances the rest of the Epicurean philosophy to focus on a life on earth lived in Epicurean virtue undisturbed and unhindered by fears of the afterlife like a god in a heaven on earth.

I'm going to admit that this argument makes no sense to me at all, and for two reasons.

#1 Let's say you have two people: Joe and Jane. Joe and Jane are training to be Olympic athletes. Joe simply thinks that you race, and that's it. Nothing comes after the race. You just go home. There is no competition. There are no medals. There is no glory. In fact, it wouldn't even be right to call it a "race," it's just a run.

Jane on the other hand knows that if she wins, she can get a gold medal. There is the glory of winning, of course. The joy of hearing your country's national anthem. The joy of knowing that you are the best in the entire world. And everything else that goes along with it.

Why does it make sense to say that Joe will focus on the running more than Jane will?

#2 Radical materialism as Lucretius argues lends itself as much to pessimism, despair, and suicide as much as it does "focusing on life." Whether Lucretius himself committed suicide or not, he can have no good argument against suicide, because in the end you are dead and there is no "you" to care one way or another. It's those who belief in an afterlife, or at least certain forms of belief in an afterlife, for whom pessimism and despair are as heterodox as materialism, and suicide as deplorable as determinism.

Now neither argument is an argument for the truth of the afterlife, just an argument that anti-materialist worldview is much more attractive than the materialist worldview.

David wrote: "Thomas wrote: ". . .for those who remember Phaedo, anyway: Is Lucretius's approach to death as satisfactory as Socrates's? "

I am reminded of the Bertrand Russell quote:
There is something feebl..."

You know, Patrice's story about making up a less traumatic version for her daughter and David's point on the matter of comfort without freedom vs freedom without comfort makes me wonder if I'm not mature or sophisticated enough to absorb Lucretius's version of afterlife. Am I still holding onto my inner child that prefers the comfort to the freedom or the truth? Am I in denial by finding more comfort in the thought of something more spiritual? It makes me reflect on not just materialism or Lucretius, but also makes me look back on myself.

(BTW, I'm not saying that everyone who is spiritual or who finds more comfort in the afterlife is immature! I'm just talking about me.)

Kenneth wrote: "David wrote: "The freedom from superstition both improves and enhances the rest of the Epicurean philosophy to focus on a life on earth lived in Epicurean virtue undisturbed and unhindered by fears..."

I think it's different strokes for different folks. I'm the kind of person who hates competition or being compared or graded. I like to run for running's sake and the cool morning air. On the one hand, there are people who have to have some kind of reward or competition or personal record to break for motivation.

Likewise, there may be some people who have different motivation and rewards in life apart from a rewarding afterlife or the freedom from the fear of a painful afterlife.

Borum wrote: I think it's different strokes for different folks. I'm the kind of person who hates competition or being compared or graded. I like to run for running's sake and the cool morning air. On the one hand, there are people who have to have some kind of reward or competition or personal record to break for motivation.

Likewise, there may be some people who have different motivation and rewards in life apart from a rewarding afterlife or the freedom from the fear of a painful afterlife. "

Of course people vary from person to person at how optimistically or pessimistically they view life. My point, however, is that as a worldview, materialism lends itself just as much to the pessimism of despair and suicide as it does to "grabbing the bull by the horns." Ultimately materialism means that reality is NOT good and it is NOT bad. It's not positive and its not negative. It just is. In materialism, your life has no inherent meaning... not a good or a bad. You are inherently worthless. You just are by accident, by blind random chance.

A theistic worldview, at least that of my creed, on the other hand, is by its very nature joyful and optimistic. Of course a person can be pessimistic even in that creed, I know many who are, but by doing so, they are showing they have not fully integrated the meaning of the creed they claim to believe in. According to my creed, I am here for a purpose... not based on my emotions or feelings, but on objective fact. My life has value and meaning as a result.

Again, this is not an argument for the truth of theism, merely for the attractiveness of theism far above materialism.

Here are a few lines from Lucretius that show the ultimate pessimism of materialism:

" Nothing for us there is to dread in death,
No wretchedness for him who is no more,
The same estate as if ne'er born before,
When death immortal hath ta'en the mortal life."

Translation: Once we die, it is the same as if we had never been born. In other words, we are valueless. Nothingness (as if we had never been born) has as much value.

"... Death is, then, to us
Much less—if there can be a less than that
Which is itself a nothing: for there comes
Hard upon death a scattering more great
Of the throng of matter, and no man wakes up
On whom once falls the icy pause of life."

I simply don't see how a worldview that sees life as ending with "the icy pause" can lend itself to people having a "focus on life." Except perhaps in the sense that a person is so terrified of losing everything that he curls himself in a ball to delay as long as possible that icy pause. Those of my creed can look at life and laugh; we can also look at death and laugh, and we have!

If Nature should [say]... 'But if whatever thou enjoyed hath been
Lavished and lost, and life is now offence,
Why seekest more to add—which in its turn
Will perish foully and fall out in vain?
O why not rather make an end of life,
Of labour? For all I may devise or find
To pleasure thee is nothing: all things are
The same forever....'
What were our answer, but that Nature here
Urges just suit and in her words lays down
True cause of action?"

Translation: All things are the same because all things are meaningless.


Far from helping people "focus on life," this is the absolutely most depressing worldview imaginable. Some of you materialists may rage against your worldview, and despite it find meaning and joy in life. But that is DESPITE your worldview, not because of it.